Enjoy the weight
Today is a short story about why weightlifting – and movement in general – is so important, particularly for those of us managing chronic diseases. Like a messed up head and mood.
It’s no secret that I’ve experienced mental health issues for much of my adult life. It’s crap, but it is what it is. Some have diabetes, some people have other chronic diseases, this one just happens to be mine. Medication has been ever present since my early 20s.
Without going into too much detail, yesterday was not a good day. Neither was the day before. In fact, the last little while has not been great. I didn’t train on Monday because I didn’t want to be around people. My training has been very consistent lately, I am actually proud of what I’ve managed to do, after a couple of years of injury and a lack of belief. Four days a week, without fail, for several months. I lifted off the floor (not off a block to make it easier on my knees) for the first time in almost 18 months. I managed a clean and jerk PR for the first time in two years.
So, taking a day off was a statement in terms of my head. I let it take over. I chose to ignore everything that people like Alex, Danica and Evie have told me: you have to make training a non-negotiable. I don’t know if this is what they meant, but turning up to training without argument, without thought, without discussion and negotiation, isn’t only essential if I want to become a better lifter. It’s critical for me to manage this illness.
Yesterday Alex messaged me. Evie messaged me. Training was mentioned. My brain was saying “As IF ladies, I’m not showing up THERE today”.
But my body had packed my training gear that morning and it was in the back of my car.
I am lucky that I have people around me who understand that I’m a bit high maintenance, that I tend to avoid things and that my confidence is dented enough to allow me to put others ahead of myself when it comes to things like taking up space in a small gym.
I take all these things and let them fester in my brain and forget what I am trying to achieve and in short: how good lifting makes me feel.
That’s what it comes down to: lifting works in ways that nothing else ever has. Not even medication, and especially not the alcohol. I am still trying to convince myself to believe this and put the correct things in place and accept training is THIS important.
So I show up at the gym and I feel creaky but I walk in, and Ricky gives me his little smile and greets me with the usual “DR G!” and there’s no going back. I’ve forgotten all the arguments I was having with myself.
I warm up, Danica comes and sits next to me while I’m trying to work the foam roller into my recalcitrant quads and asks if she can put a question to me. It might be delicate.
Oh shit, I think.
“So what’s going on with the Giants women?”**
That’s not delicate AT ALL. I launch into my rant and she is satisfied with my answer and I finish my one-legged wall sits, not realising that I’ve gone through my stuff without even realising it (talking about the Giants will do that to me).
I get on the platform and no matter how many warm up snatch variations I do, my knees are not having it. I rarely have days like this anymore. I’ve done my physio rehab (yes, it’s a fucking miracle), Evie has managed my load by programming strictly and emphasising how doing more than I should is not a virtue.
I try to get into the main snatch exercise. It’s clear that my knees are not playing along today.
“Do straight leg”, Ricky says, after noticing my obvious grimacing when I try to lower myself to catch the bar.
I try that but it’s not really working.
I move on to cleans. Same thing.
So I give up.
But here’s the difference: whereas before I may have peeled off my knee sleeves, taken off my shoes, packed my bag and left the gym, last night I did not.
I found other things I could do. I kept going. I was starting to notice that familiar feeling flow through my body. The one that blocks out everything except that which is in front of me. The one that slows my brain and tests my body in ways that it likes.
I was annoyed at my knees – that’s my usual state, to be honest – but I didn’t think it was the end of my lifting or even my week. It was just today. It didn’t undo the work I had done and didn’t preclude me from lifting again tomorrow.
Evie turned up and said “You’re here!”.
She knew just walking through the door was the win.
As I drove home I was almost annoyed. OF COURSE YOU FEEL BETTER YOU KNEW YOU WOULD AND EVERYONE TOLD YOU IT WOULD HELP.
So just accept it.
Why I fight this very obvious treatment is anyone’s guess. That is a problem for another day.
If you don’t believe me:
** My favourite team in the entire world have not won a game since Round 1 LAST SEASON. But I am travelling to the Gold Coast this weekend to watch them play instead of staying in Sydney and watching the men’s team play an elimination final because that’s what you do when you’re a fan.
Thank you, as always, for reading.
Georg x
I write this stuff because I have to, it’s a compulsion. However, if you like it and you want to show your appreciation, I admit that I get pretty chuffed when someone ‘buys me a coffee’ (makes a small, one-off contribution to the ‘Georg is a writer fund’). Also, I need some new sports bras and those things are freaking expensive.