Keys to Progress Part Triceratops; Do It For Yourself

This series of articles is going to lay out what I feel are the intangible virtues of those that progressively get better in whatever pursuit they may have. While these articles can be applied to any facet of life I'm going to use predominantly weightlifting examples because I'm a meathead at heart. You can see part I here, and Part II here.

"It'll destroy you if you try to make it mean anything to anyone but yourself." -Henry Rollins

Recently a couple of friends have been recruiting me to play on their semi-pro football team with them. Semi-pro football is inhabited by mostly well-meaning guys with no delusions of grandeur who just like to play football. Nothing more; nothing less. I gave it serious consideration even going to their combine and a practice. But, I came to the realization that I just didn't want to play anymore. There were a few other minor reasons as well, namely that I would be missing almost half the season due to other commitments. But it came down to that if I did play I would only be doing so because others wanted me to, not because I wanted to. I know that if I played I would have fun because it is a great group of guys but my heart just wasn't in it. I wouldn't be doing it for me.

The bigger picture of that story is that living life to meet other's expectations is the road to mediocrity, self-loathing and an overall bad time. I've known men that have been devoted to their significant others, spending time and money and whatever else it took only to be repeatedly shit on. Shit, I've been in that position a few times. I've seen people tear themselves inside out and completely lose track of who they really are to meet some impossible societal standard of how someone should look or talk or smell or feel.

One more reason I'm in favor of compulsory sterilization.

This brings me to the whole of physical culture. Although it's incredibly ironic- and maybe that was the point- it's like that scene in Fight Club where Brad Pitt holds up the picture of the male model and asks, "Is this what a man is supposed to look like?" Our ideal body image and the human ideal in general have been and always will be sold to us. Use this ab widget and have ripped abs! Use this buns widget and have a butt that no man can touch but no man can keep his eyes or hands off! Hide those extra pounds with Skinny Jeans! Breast implants really improve your self-esteem! Only women with 24" waists and pretty smiles with brilliant white teeth marry rich doctors! And so it goes.

She caught her husband cheating then tried to turn herself into a cat to win him back. She must be so happy.

What happened to people using the gym or the road as therapy? What happened to people using exercise to challenge themselves to something? What happened to people striving to better themselves in an effort to eschew societies standards instead of to embrace them? Lifting weights gives my life regularity. It gives me clarity of thought. Some guys get that on the toilet. I get it under a bar. Lifting weights gives me an outlet for my frustration, my anger, my creativity, my passion, my competitiveness. Lifting weights is sometimes the only thing that I ever feel in control of. The 400 lbs on the bar doesn't care about my mortgage. It doesn't care that my dog ripped up some carpet in the living room. It doesn't care that my right IT band feels like it's going to pop out of my leg. It doesn't care that underneath I've always felt a river of inadequacy coursing through me. All it cares about is being as close to the ground as possible. The law of gravity is the only thing it obeys. It's always going to tell it to me straight. I've either got it or I don't.

Where many a battle have been waged.

I joke around a lot but I'll be the first to admit that I'm not exactly the peak of physical evolution. With that said I never know how to respond when people admire or say they want to emulate my physical appearance. When I was done with football and was beginning on my weight training journey I will admit that was one of my goals. I tried the 12-week this diet and the 16-week that training plan. I soon realized it was mostly smoke and mirrors. I was looking for the magic bullet. I was looking for the thing that would allow me to stop the strain and the struggle and the sweat and the blood and just coast for the rest of my life. I was looking for someone else's ideal. I was trying to put my square peg into someone else's round hole.

Wait....

Once I gravitated towards competition that all changed. I didn't give fuck number one what someone else lifted, weighed, or looked like. Competition introduced me to the best competitor I'll ever have, myself. My football coaches used to love the saying, "You are either getting better or getting worse. There is no staying the same." Therefore, I'm striving to be better than myself. Better than I was the day before. Not better than some air-brushed model. Not better than some impossible ideal. The compliments are nice, but I like PRs better. The wayward looks from the bachelorette party are flattering, but don't compare to three white lights from three intently watching judges.

I do this because I know no other way. I've never been one to follow the flock and I don't think you should be either. There is a certain safety and comfort in numbers. There is the warm blanket of never having to wear the fact that you don't care what the others may say on your face that you get from blending in. Break free from the ties that bind. The door that imprisons you has never been locked. All you have to do is open it. If you don't nothing will change. Your life will go on as planned. If you do, all you will gain is yourself.

“I believe that one defines oneself by reinvention. To not be like your parents. To not be like your friends. To be yourself. To cut yourself out of stone.” -Henry Rollins