The Death of Hardcore

I'm going to get one thing off my chest right now.  There is no such thing as "hardcore" exercise.  There is impressive, there is masochistic, and there is unhumanly (Google is telling me that unhumanly isn't a word, but fuck that.).  But there is nothing that even comes close to "hardcore".

To paraphrase Shelby Starnes, exercise is a luxury that we should feel lucky to be able to do.  Hardcore is standing up for what is right.  Hardcore is raising three kids the right way on your own.  Hardcore is hanging out on the ocean for over a month and then surviving hellish POW camps for years.  Hardcore is sacrifice and doing what absolutely needs to be done.

And to go along with that one does not go into "Beast Mode" or turn into a "Hulkamaniac" simply because you are lifting weights.  You're lifting weights, not pulling a car off a trapped child.

Do you even lift?

Now I've been guilty of saying these things in the past.  I freely admit the error of my ways.  But growing older and gaining some perspective of where I stand in this world has led to my thinking that I lead a pretty charmed life.

Compared to the experiences of a lot of people past and present if you're reading this (or writing it) you live like little princesses.  And it doesn't matter how much you dead lift or how fast you can ride a bike.