Why am I at the gym?

I am a vain and toxic narcissist. I care too much about my body image. I crave strength so that I can dominate those without. I do not live by the Lord’s teachings of humility and the inner value. I am big and strong and I can throw big boulders. I am stronger, faster, and better than everyone. My BMI is overweight, but I can see my abs. This brings me great joy. I eat a dozen eggs every day. My cholesterol has exploded. I will be dead within a month.

Just kidding! Only half of that is true. But I do have a problem, or so everyone keeps telling me. I go to the gym five days a week, which is too much. I’m on a replacement TRT dose after years of natural optimization failed to break the 300ng/dL wall (thanks, dad). I bench 275, squat 365, and deadlift 405. My friends gas me up, but when they find out how much or how long I’ve been lifting for, they become concerned. Wait until they hear that my numbers aren’t even considered impressive. My deadlift is meager and I barely managed to achieve 1/2/3/4 at the ripe old age of 20. But I digress. This seems like a lot, so why do I do this?

Nobody who’s reading this cares. You all know the answer. It’s the first paragraph. That shit is all true. Everyone who doesn’t keep fit (whatever that looks like to you) has already decided that. For those who do keep fit, you know that I do it for the same reasons you do. But “fit” to me is just a little more. Why? Because I’m strong. Tsuyoi dakara. God gave me physical gifts and using them makes me happy. It’s the same fulfillment that anyone gets from living the life they were made for; I just don’t get paid for it! And I’ll never find a career that makes me as happy as the gym, but I can’t be a coach because I’m not charismatic enough! It sucks.

This might be a little redundant with my last post, but being weak when you have the potential to be strong is an insult. Conversely, achieving the strength that you were given potential for is a compliment to God. It shows Him that you appreciate His gift. Shows a little fucking gratitude! But you can’t really admit to a mental health professional that you believe that you owe anything to God. After all, psychiatry IS God. And lifting is fine, as long as it doesn’t interfere with your heckin’ wholesome mental health journey. If it does, then, oh… you sweet child… let me hold your hand when I say this… YOU DESERVE BETTER! Write 300 self-affirmations. Your goal is: to be ok inside of your body. :)

I need to eat 3,500 calories a day, far beyond my natural appetite (unless I just completely eat shit). This is too much, but if a fat person does exactly that (just completely eats shit), it’s okay because they aren’t “forcing themselves.” Discipline is the enemy. Anyone with less discipline than me is a bum, and anyone with more is insane. I have the most discipline of all of my friends, just as Moses was the most humble man on Earth (Numbers 12:3, written by Moses). My friends all judge me! They think I’m a gym rat. They think I have a chemical addiction, that I can’t quit. Of course, they make jokes of how envious they are about the fruits of my labor; they just don’t like the labor. I am no exception to this behavior. I look at priests the same way. The discipline it takes to dedicate one’s entire life to celibacy? Not for me, man, but I do wish I could be closer to God.

I should clarify a little, because I’m talking about two different people at the same time. On one hand, we have hostile people who have psychoanalyzed me down to the first paragraph, because they are jealous of me and they have diseases. On the other hand, we have people to whom discipline is not a foreign concept, but who still have less than me. Both hate me, but they hate me differently. Then, finally, we have people who are just better than me, but this post isn’t about them. I’d like to imagine they don’t think about me. The throughline between the other 99% of the world is this: they don’t understand me. It feels like nobody understands why I go to the gym.

Just last month, I was in the hospital, and they were fucking bewildered. I felt like some alien specimen. Why is your heart rate so low? You were just working out… IN YOUR HOSPITAL ROOM!? Are you trying to lose weight or something? Do you have a girlfriend? It’s all so tiresome. And of course, the TRT. They tried to psychoanalyze a “reason” why I was taking it. Even if I didn’t have the hormonal disorder that I have (which of course, they didn’t believe me), who the fuck cares? It helps me put in more work. Putting in work is actually good.

I am at the gym because I enjoy it. I enjoy forcing myself to do hard things. I’m not even reaching the edge of my discipline, where I would actually have to tap into some willpower. I pity those who are less masochistic than me. It’s not some mystery. I don’t have a mental disorder. I was simply created by God to do these things, and I am honoring Him by putting myself through the trials He built me for. Some people were built for different trials, and that’s okay. Some people are inclined towards serenity and don’t even like to challenge themselves at all. That is usually okay. But why is everyone so hostile to me? Leave me alone. Jeez.