Lifting lifts my spirits. It’s pretty simple to say, but hard to explain. Why would moving heavy weights up and down be a pleasure, much less feel like anything but tedious work? What is the point of it all?
The point of it all is to feel good.
A lot of guys lift to look good. They have a long term goal of getting ripped, looking built, and bench pressing twice their own body weight. Admirable goals actually, I have to say. I’d like to reach those myself, heh.
Other guys do it to get healthy. Getting strong implies that your body is in order. And the exercise builds up lean muscle and strengthens bones. Over time, your risks for cardiovascular disease drop, your joints stay limber longer than your peers’, and your mental focus stays sharp. I want all these things, too: I’m planning on being spry till I die.
But my own goal, my personal desire, is to just feel good. The contractions as I lift fill me with determination that I can accomplish anything. The sweat dotting my skin cools down negative moods, like anger and frustration. The grunting I make as I reach my max weight releases a rush of dopamine that awakens me from complacency. In essence, I feel like a man in control. The weights are the worries of the world and my movements are the practiced wisdom of our ancestral elders. The focus on correct and purposeful movements trains my mind along with my body.
And man does it feel good!
Even if you’re not a fan of weights, I encourage you to try lifting. You never know if you might pick it up.
A contemporary log of fragmentary pleasures 