“it is a disgrace to grow old through sheer carelessness before seeing what manner of man you may become by developing your bodily strength and beauty to their highest limit. But you cannot see that if you are careless, for it will not come of its own accord.’ – Socrates
Lifting is a thing I can’t do without. I started years ago to improve my wrestling.
Now I do it because I must. Shell is the same. She pushes me beyond my limits.
Our priority when we arrived in Phnom Penh was to find an early opening gym.
I am a morning trainer.
There are too many excuses not to train in the afternoon.
We have not missed a session. When we visited Bangkok and Malaysia, we found gyms.
Training is beyond the way I look or the numbers. However, I do love being lean and strong. Shell certainly prefers it this way. And does not mind letting me know if it is lacking.
If I miss a session, I feel like shit. It is not guilt. I just feel better when I lift. Mentally. Physically. Emotionally.
Sunday is rest. The body needs it. I feel lethargic and moody all that day.
It is a drug. Science tells us there is a suite of chemicals released during training. Serotonin, norepinephrine, dopamine, endorphins, and a heap of neurotrophic factors.
Your body wants you hooked. Why wouldn’t it?
I did not train during our bicycle trip. I was a flabby mess when we finished. Disgusted with myself.
Absolute self-loathing. But not pity.
I have been back in the gym for six weeks. It is coming back faster than I expected. Some ways to go.
Today I pulled 160kg for five. A long way to go from where I was.
I have friends who train. Friends who don’t.
My friends who train accept no excuses. Age, time, fatigue. No excuses.
If I tell them I am attempting 160, they want to know where 170 is. Everything is ‘can’. There is never ‘cannot’.
They are not careful and push me beyond what I believe I am capable of.
I am in their debt. I am sure I give to them what they give to me.
My non-training friends do not understand. I hear things like ‘you won’t be able to do this forever’.
‘You can’t do this when you are…’ whatever age. They seem concerned about my fragility.
Both come from a good place. Maybe.
I am 48. Close enough to 50.
I feel 25.
In a few months, I will be as strong as I was when I was 30.
I train my body as hard as I train my mind.
If either fails, what is the point?