Change comes in a lot of forms. Sometimes it is the blinding flash of light epiphany like Saul on the road to Damascus, but I think a lot of times, it’s more of a slow build over time. For me, the latter tends to be true much more often than the former. It certainly was the case recently when I finally accepted for myself that powerlifting was not the draw it once was for me.
While the change was slow and over time, I can think of two more distinct moments that helped drive this path.
The first was returning to playing indoor soccer a year or two ago (before being driven off by nagging injuries). I thought I was in fine shape – I was stronger than I had ever been, I had been working back in conditioning and I thought I was ready to roll. Then, I hit the field and stumbled around, moving with a grace that could be described as “wooden” if we were being highly charitable about it.
The second was when I went out to EliteFTS for a training session and seminar. I went heavier on deadlifts than I had in a long time… and in the days that followed, my training felt crushed. My recovery was just not great and I felt beat up for the umpteenth time.
In the days that followed that, I realized that returning to my athletic roots as a focal point moving forward was what I wanted. I thought I was always training to be a strong athlete and realized I spent a lot of time on the strong and not nearly enough on the athlete portion of that mix. Maybe I came to this realization because I was older and wiser. Maybe it was because my body was yelling loud and long at me “Bro…this ain’t working out like you think it is.” Maybe age was catching up with me (although I fight this notion with every core of my being that age should ever be an acceptable excuse for not doing what you love).
Regardless of the reasoning, I knew that at 44, it was time to change course for myself and get back to what I knew would be enjoyable for me in the long term.
The funny thing about all of this is part of the reason I struggled with making this change over the last year or two was how easy it had become to be too concerned with a neat and tidy label for what I was as a lifter. I was a POWERLIFTER. That was a distinct classification and readily identified me as part of a community of likeminded folks. There is comfort and power in that kind of identity – we’re social creatures and community matters.
But what happens when, as the cliché states, the juice is no longer worth the squeeze? That the enjoyment you derive from that has gone way down for what you get back from the work and sacrifice?
What if I went back to training that did not have that neat and tidy little box that had become so cozy for me? The opportunity to provide a ready answer when people asked what kind of lifter I was? How would I answer that question?
In the days following that lifting session in Ohio, I smiled and realized exactly how I would answer that question… any damn way I really wanted. I’m a lifter and an athlete. No other details needed beyond that. I lift heavy weights. I throw things around. I row. I do yoga. I play golf. I sprint hills. I push Prowlers. I will, hopefully, start running again. I may even play soccer again (if my right knee will stop being an obstinate pain in the ass and get on board with this plan).
Those boxes are tempting for everyone and often we slide into them without even realizing it’s happening – they can be lovely boxes, perhaps velvet-lined and gorgeous. If you want to be part of that group, that’s clearly not a bad thing at all. But when you realize it’s more convenience or comfort than conscious choice, that’s when things get interesting (and something I’ve thought about before when I wrote “Your Pathetic Little Box” a few years back). And that’s why this Churchill quote hits home so much with me:
I’ve chosen a new path and I must admit the details of a lifting program aren’t terribly interesting to anyone but the person writing it or training under it. The interesting part is assessing your why and seeing if it’s what you want or just part of a sitting in your neat and tidy little box.
Because the thing about those boxes? They are a certain shape and a certain size… and you can only grow in them just so much.
And I never want to stop growing.
