I’m a woman who lifts heavy. It’s interesting to read this because, as a woman and just due to my very average genetics, I’m not really capable of putting on tons of muscle and really don’t look much different than I did when I was a runner, at least when I have clothes on.
I often wonder why I do it, especially when struggling under a heavy bar. I think there’s a very visceral confrontation with reality that I don’t get in my work life- real objects and bodies and limitations and laws of physics that I get to experience. It takes me out of my trance of abstract thinking. I literally cannot think of anything else when I’m near max effort except that effort.
Second, it feels physically good to be strong. Third, I like being able to lift things on and off shelves. Fourth, I think loss of strength and (especially) mobility is one of the worst parts of aging and I’d like to slow that way down.
Powerful reflection on your uncle. Building better habits needs something as powerful as what you’re moving away from, not just a potential promise of what you’re working towards.
A few recent essays you linked has got me close to getting started on some strength training of my own. Want to get myself some of those “noob gains” you wrote about.
Going through a bulk right now and really enjoyed this. I like the idea that not every blog post has to be about some major breakthrough realization. Some can just be simple.
As a slim person who at one point became quite muscular in a short period of time, it is absolutely true that people look at you differently. Kindness from a skinny person often seems tinged with a subtle weakness, as though they couldn’t be afford to be mean even if they wanted to. By contrast, kindness from a strong person seems potent, supererogatory, surprising and genuine and virtuous. It’s ridiculous to think this way, of course. And yet we all do, in quiet ways.
I’m a woman who lifts heavy. It’s interesting to read this because, as a woman and just due to my very average genetics, I’m not really capable of putting on tons of muscle and really don’t look much different than I did when I was a runner, at least when I have clothes on.
I often wonder why I do it, especially when struggling under a heavy bar. I think there’s a very visceral confrontation with reality that I don’t get in my work life- real objects and bodies and limitations and laws of physics that I get to experience. It takes me out of my trance of abstract thinking. I literally cannot think of anything else when I’m near max effort except that effort.
Second, it feels physically good to be strong. Third, I like being able to lift things on and off shelves. Fourth, I think loss of strength and (especially) mobility is one of the worst parts of aging and I’d like to slow that way down.
+1 on real objects and bodies
Powerful reflection on your uncle. Building better habits needs something as powerful as what you’re moving away from, not just a potential promise of what you’re working towards.
A few recent essays you linked has got me close to getting started on some strength training of my own. Want to get myself some of those “noob gains” you wrote about.
! do it
Lift, write, be happy
Enjoyed this. I've done a silly bulk before (5-8 pints of full-fat milk + usual meals each day) for months and got pretty fat.
Eventually lost the weight and haven't bulked since. Thinking of bulking again but sensibly this time!
I also relate to wanting more muscle for when my face and hair start to deteriorate with age.
How many days do you lift currently?
3-4! and i do some climbing.
i am bad enough at bulking that i apparently need to be somewhat silly...
Going through a bulk right now and really enjoyed this. I like the idea that not every blog post has to be about some major breakthrough realization. Some can just be simple.
This blog post is so well-written. Really enjoyed reading it. Thanks .
As a slim person who at one point became quite muscular in a short period of time, it is absolutely true that people look at you differently. Kindness from a skinny person often seems tinged with a subtle weakness, as though they couldn’t be afford to be mean even if they wanted to. By contrast, kindness from a strong person seems potent, supererogatory, surprising and genuine and virtuous. It’s ridiculous to think this way, of course. And yet we all do, in quiet ways.