War in the weight room
War in the weight room
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest”
There is a war in the gym. It pulls me in. In captivates my mind, and silences my mouth. It shatters me to the core. I see strength, I feel strength. I don’t believe strength. I feel the heavy weight of my body crushing my spirit. It suffocates my thoughts. I walk into the comfort of knowing, it’s not going to be easy. Why can’t it be easy? How is this even comfortable? Why am I even here?
Swooping in like a vulture, I’m ambushed with the dark presence. I feel defeated. It tells me I can’t do, I’m not going to, I’m not good enough, I’m hated, I should feel shame. My thighs are disgusting, I’m disgusting. I hear all the name calling, back stabbing replay in my head. I see the faces of the past. It’s no wonder I find this troubling, I’m allowing these thoughts.
I start to fall apart. I put down the weights. I call out to God, “Why, what is going on? Why can’t I just finish this workout?”
Nothing, I hear nothing. I don’t hear him.
I say out loud, “Lord I forgive them, help me please, I want to move forward.”
There’s a baby I hold. I rock him slowly. Suddenly he begins to wail uncontrollably. I panic, I rock him side to side. He won’t stop. He’s anxious. He’s uncomfortable. He kicks and tries to get out of my arms. I try, I try I tell you. I try to soothe him. I don’t know what to do. I lose control, and spank him. He screams. I scream in agony of not knowing what is wrong. I feel worthless. I’m useless. I can’t do this. I feel shame that I spanked him because he wouldn’t calm down, when he can’t even speak yet.
Then I wake up. Thankful it was all a dream. A dream that has been haunting me for years. Who is this baby? What causes him discomfort? I’ve been asking that question for years.
There is a war in the weight room. Where things are bulky. The weight drags me down. I lift. I push through the pain. They say “pain is weakness leaving the body.” The pain enters my weak body. I feel attacked. I shake my head in disappointment of the last rep. Work on your form I tell myself. You got this. You were made for more. You are beautiful, fearfully and wonderfully made. I say the “The Lord’s Prayer,” 5 times.
One rep, two reps, three reps. It’s hard. It’s heavy, and my back hurts, I hate this. No, I’m going to push through. I take a break, come back. One, two, three, four. Take another break, now my wrist hurts.
He comes over and spends 10 minutes showing me good form, explaining that my butt should be below my shoulders. I make a face..Of course, I have no idea what he is talking about. Then I shake that off and ask him to explain. He is patient. He knows my struggle. Another 10 minutes pass and he is still correcting my form.
I love him, but why can’t I get this right and show him I got this. Oh yes, because I want to be perfect for him, and show no signs of weakness. We’ve been married for a while now and I’m still trying to win him over. I get back to the bar and try again then say, “maybe I’ll just try without the extra weight.” He agrees, and sets a bar up for me then goes back to his area.
Another 10 minutes go by, I’m still trying. still pushing. I can’t give up because the label on this apparatus push cart thingy I can’t remember the name to, says DON’T QUIT! So I keep going. Alright 5 reps of that and I’m back. Let’s do this. 5 more sets of deadlifts, and 5 more push the cart thingy I can’t remember the name to. I’m feeling stronger, my grip is better. 30 minutes go by, I’m focused. I’m proud. I’m doing better.
I ask him to check my form. He tells me with a smile it looks much better. I finish my set.
I walk out feeling accomplished and emotional. The tears role down my cheeks. I realized what this all means. This weight I try to take up, it’s hard, it’s heavy. These sprints I do, they take up a lot of air. And I try to just get over it as fast as I can.
But you see friend, I can’t, we can’t get over it. We give it up to a higher calling, God. Our burdens, the weights in the gym I had in hand, if we continue to carry them alone, are heavy.
We try to sprint through life, like me with that apparatus telling me DON’T QUIT! The miles we run, if we run hard without purpose, they are hard to push through. The joy is lost. The joy of enjoying. The joy of learning, of getting stronger, enjoying the process.
I realized that in all things we must learn to first nurture them. Take up in love, be patient, grow and extend grace. This is my baby I hold. This baby that was wailing uncontrollably. I can have control, over my thoughts, what I say, how I feel. I just have to learn to love the process of letting go of perfectionism. And it’s a perfectly flawed adventure, filled with joy in knowing that I am perfect in His eyes.
When things seem like you can’t control them, hand you’re moments of infancy over to God. These are gifts to grow us, make us better. They are seeds that need watering. Like the muscles that once they tear, they rebuild and get stronger. Enjoy the joy of knowing He’s got this!
his is my war in the weight room, and I will overcome, in the name above all names, Jesus.
God Blessed, now GO Bless,