Battling the demons

Image from Flickr, by oneselfsacrifice

 

Today was a workout day.  Two more sets down, and might could have banged out a third if I didn't decide to do stiff legged deadlifts instead of squats.  My lower back started twinging.  Stupid, right?

Live and learn.

Still, it was a decent enough workout and I'm pretty proud of it.  The shortening of the length for each exercise seems to be paying off.  All in all, I'm pretty happy about it all.

Yesterday, I wrote about my own past with body image issues, and if I'm completely honest those issues are still here.  Today, while lifting that kettlebell, it was easy to see me slaying the demons.


I have an image in my head of what I want to look like, and I really need to purge that crap.  That needs to go.  If you're doing that, get over it.  Unless you're a competitive body builder, no one gives a damn what your body looks like. 

Guys always think that you need to be built like Brad Pitt in Fight Club for the women to want you.  Bull.  One thing I've learned in 39 years of life is that women are far more likely to be attracted to a guy who's comfortable in their own skin.  I've seen guys who look like they kissed a moving Mack truck and yet still always seem to have a woman on their arm.

So what's a fat boy to do?

Get fit.  Get healthy.  Recognize that you're good to go.  Get stronger.  Be happy with who you are.  Want to get your teeth straightened?  That's fine, but do it for you.  Do it because you believe it will make you better.  Do it because it will mean that you'll have an easier time brushing your teeth.  Don't do it for "the ladies".

I'm not there.  I don't pretend to be.  I'm further along the road than a lot of folks.  I'm also further back than some other folks.  I don't care.  This isn't a contest against them.

No, this is a contest against the demons.  This is a battle...no, a war...against those demons in my own head that tell me I'm not enough.  They were the ones that hit me in the past, and they're still here.  They're the ones whispering in my ear that I'll never be fit.  They're the ones telling me I don't have it in me.  They're the ones telling me to screw my diet and go back to the chili-cheese dogs and pizza.  They are the enemy.  They are the opponent.

I am an athlete.  I may not look like one, but I don't give a damn.  I know what I am.

Do you?