nihiloexnihil
01-29-07, 12:46 am
I know I am not alone.
I remember sitting, exhausted and my legs shaking, staring at my fifth and final set of squats after leg pressing more than I ever had in my life. I knew that the skin would rub off the back of my neck, that my legs would sear, that I might feel like passing out. I didn't want to lift it. I just wanted to pack up and stagger out of the gym. But I had one more set, and fuck it if I wasn't going to get it done.
And then I wept. Sitting there, alone in the gym, I wept. This weight could kill me. It would hurt me, no matter what I did. I knew it. I knew that every agonizing rep would feel like the weight of the world pushing as hard as it could, trying to crush me. I wept because I felt it, in that moment-- the spiritual and mental lightness of being that binds every single one of us in this game together. Every dry piece of chicken, every can of tuna, everything-- everything was culminating in this one moment. The moment I pushed past my limits, my expectations, and myself, to finish the impossible.
You see, brothers, you are the only ones who understand why I didn't give up on that last set. I can't explain it to anyone else, because no one else is willing to hear. All of us know something. The iron reveals it to us, in our darkest moments: it shows us who we are. We accept pain for what it is, and then we move beyond it.
And that is why I wept. I wept because I had just met myself for the first time.
I remember sitting, exhausted and my legs shaking, staring at my fifth and final set of squats after leg pressing more than I ever had in my life. I knew that the skin would rub off the back of my neck, that my legs would sear, that I might feel like passing out. I didn't want to lift it. I just wanted to pack up and stagger out of the gym. But I had one more set, and fuck it if I wasn't going to get it done.
And then I wept. Sitting there, alone in the gym, I wept. This weight could kill me. It would hurt me, no matter what I did. I knew it. I knew that every agonizing rep would feel like the weight of the world pushing as hard as it could, trying to crush me. I wept because I felt it, in that moment-- the spiritual and mental lightness of being that binds every single one of us in this game together. Every dry piece of chicken, every can of tuna, everything-- everything was culminating in this one moment. The moment I pushed past my limits, my expectations, and myself, to finish the impossible.
You see, brothers, you are the only ones who understand why I didn't give up on that last set. I can't explain it to anyone else, because no one else is willing to hear. All of us know something. The iron reveals it to us, in our darkest moments: it shows us who we are. We accept pain for what it is, and then we move beyond it.
And that is why I wept. I wept because I had just met myself for the first time.