How Weightlifting Gave My Life Purpose

     I’ll open this with a caveat: I feel as though my life has had a purpose for a long time. Finding the drive, the reason, though was something else altogether.

     When you decide to lift iron for the first time, it’s scary. It’s intimidating. It hurts. You struggle, you’re not sure what you’re doing or if what you’re doing is correct. You worry you’ll hurt yourself or pull some muscle. Muscles will activate that you've never felt.     

      

      Starting is the hardest part.

      You may be overweight. You may be super skinny. You may want to get jacked, or you may just want to be more healthy.

       I started back in 2005. It feels like it’s been a hell of a journey. In 2005, I was active duty in the U.S. Air Force stationed in Iraq for my first deployment. The only stress reliever at the base I was stationed at was the gym. There was no pool. There was no movie theater or café or restaurant. There was no GNC or Vitamin Shop. No mom’s home cooked meals and you slept in some bed with stains on it that made you question what happened to the last guy/girl that slept there.

        So what did we do? We ran. We lifted weights. We played basketball.

        I went to Iraq about 40% bodyfat at 5’6” and I was definitely over weight. I estimate that my weight was somewhere around 180 or so back then. I had to start leaving the top button undone on my work pants because my belly was getting in the way. I was eating McDonald’s, Burger King, drinking so much soda I’m surprised I don’t have any cavities. It was bad. Real bad. Not the standard one thinks of America’s war fighters, I know. But I wasn’t alone. When I got to Iraq, there were other overweight folks just like me! Some part of me wonders if this was the military’s way of letting you take time to get in shape before they do it for you or kick your ass out. I digress.

          I eventually started working with a fellow whose name escapes me now, but he got me started lifting weights. He wasn’t overweight. He was a nice guy and he seemed to know what he was doing. The important thing is that I had someone to teach me and show me and get me in the gym in the first place.

          The first workout we did some machines. We did preacher curls and shrugs and leg presses. Walking to work the next day hurt. But I couldn’t wait to do it again that night after my 12 hour shift.

           Essentially, the rest is history. The take a way is: get started. It’s scary, but so is the alternative. Don’t let the fear paralyze you. Take control now. Do something for yourself. It may not be iron that you fall in love with. Maybe it’s cycling, golf or CrossFit. Pick something, try something, and give it a shot. Give yourself a shot. And just maybe, that thing that you avoided for so long will take you by the hand and put you on a course that gives your life purpose, too.

            See you in the DUNGEON.