“Why do you work so hard when you don’t have to?”
A child asked me that question recently, curious about why my own strength training sessions are relatively intense compared to the general population.
“I like the feeling of being strong,” I said.
“But you’re already strong,” she said.
“And how did I get this way?” At this point I thought I had her. Surely the logic of a 40-year-old man would trump that of an 11-year old’s.
“But you keep doing more and more. You don’t need to do that, do you?” It was a fair point. She’s right. I have certain numbers in my head that I’m trying to hit, for no other reason than pride and maybe more than a little ego. This was a classic case of an adult being forced to boil something down to its essence because of the logic of a child–granted, a really smart child, but a child nonetheless.
So why do I keep pushing? I don’t need a 500-pound deadlift in order to age well, and my young interlocutor understood this intuitively. The truth is that I’m addicted to being strong, and I’m trying to get as strong as I possibly can while I’m still able because there will be a day when getting stronger isn’t possible. I’ll have to rely on my “muscle reserves,” so to speak, to thrive in my octogenarian years.
But it’s more than that. While there is a part of me who is trying to bank as much muscle as possible for when I get (even) older, if you strapped me to a lie detector test I’d tell you that I’m doing this for the right now. I’m doing this because:
I enjoy the way a strong body works.
I enjoy the way a strong body feels.
I enjoy the way other people respond to a strong body.
I enjoy the self-sufficiency that comes with a strong body.
The difference between you and me if you’re not working out isn’t just physical. You’d enjoy all of the things I listed too. It’s that I’ve always worked out, and thus I don’t have the same insecurities you do.
I leave my cards at the coffee shop I frequent. I hear from people all the time who tell me that they picked up my card there “six months ago” or “several weeks ago.” What took them so long to finally get in touch?
Fear. Insecurity. Previous bad experiences in fitness (usually involving judgment). They spend half a year building up the courage to seek out the help they need to get strong, to feel the way I do.
I’ve not solved this problem. I don’t know how to prove to people that I won’t judge them, make them feel less than, or belittle their skills in the gym. People who study human behavior and change might say that there’s nothing I can say because people have to be ready to change. I understand this intellectually, but I want to solve the puzzle. I want people to know that the gym can be a safe, empowering place.
I want everyone to know this. I want this understanding, this belief in the power of strength, to reside deep in everyone’s soul, from the 22-year-old with body image issues and a questionable relationship with food to the 60-year-old grandmother who’s never touched a dumbbell in her life.
My industry has tried to solve this problem by lying to people, selling them supplements they don’t need, and telling them that the answer to their fears is a singular piece of equipment or THIS exercise modality (and definitely not THAT one).
So when you add extant fear and insecurity, mix in a layer of smokescreen-induced distrust, then you get the recipe for you not walking into that local gym or yoga studio.
But remember this:
I enjoy the way a strong body works.
I enjoy the way a strong body feels.
I enjoy the way other people respond to a strong body.
I enjoy the self-sufficiency that comes with a strong body.
And you will too.
I promise you.
