Legs. They are the meatiest muscle group, containing most of our body’s growth hormone and also where most of our blood circulation occurs. Legs are tough to grow properly. I decide to increase the weights by ten pounds today.
There are times we can draw on our inner reserves of strength. A low, guttural growl turns into a roar of rage, startling everyone else near, but it is a way of unleashing our beast, or pushing ourselves for that last repetition regardless of how badly our body is shaking, our muscles burning. For some, it is drawing on a damaging past experience, something intimately personal that brings up all kinds of negative emotions, giving us something tangible to hold onto and overcome. For me, I think of all the Amarr have done to my people over time, of their sheer disdain for all that is right, of their self-righteousness in the name of their “God”, and I grit my teeth. My veins bulge, my muscles push, as I strain for one more rep.
It is these moments where we define ourselves. It is so easy to give up even when our body has. We can only push so hard, so far, before we risk injuring ourselves, before we risk sacrificing good form. Now is not the time to quit. Not the time to reinforce that the mind is stronger than the body. Still, this victory can be achieved safely. I reduce the weights for the remainder of this one set and push forward, finishing the round.
There is still a sense of accomplishment. There is still a personal achievement and accomplishment. Not giving up is what matters.
I lay on the floor in a pool of my own sweat. My legs tremble beneath me. A couple of gym goers come by and ask if I am ok, alarm in their faces. I laugh and wave them away, letting them know I’m just going to enjoy the floor for a few more minutes. Perhaps I am a drama queen, but it’s really comfortable here.
I feel like I could puke. I feel like I could pass out.
I’m doing it right.