At D&D on Wednesday one of the other players commented that she liked my gym photos on Facebook/Instagram because I look like I am suffering. I’m not sure if she hates me, was flirting, or something else, but she is correct, I am usually pretty miserable at the gym (and while running).
I’ve never been someone who enjoys working out. I don’t find it relaxing or therapeutic. I don’t easily jump out of bed and throw on my shoes to pound the pavement. I do everything I can to procrastinate it including, but not limited to, cleaning the house, masturbating, reading, writing, doing laundry, etc. But I do try to exercise daily for one simple reason: I love life a whole fucking bunch.
From all the research I’ve read there are a few key factors in our control that can increase the quality and quantity of our lives: don’t smoke, exercise regularly, eat whole foods plant-based diet, drink water, and sleep. Everything else is just details. So, I exercise in order to increase my chances as a longer and more pleasurable life. It sucks, but I view it as an investment. I spend 4.17% of my day in order to make my one life better then that is probably a good payoff, particularly since the gains are not only a longer life but one in which I can do things I’m interested in…
I want to climb mountains and camp under the stars and see the Pyramids, Great Wall of China, Pantheon, Dead Sea, Red Square, and Antarctica. I want to raft down rivers and sail across oceans and take a spaceship to the moon. I want to know what it feels like to be exhausted and sweaty and bleeding as I wander up to the top of a mountain and see the world below me. I want to weep tears of joy and suffering as I see land for the first time in days or weeks.
I want to dance at my great grand-nephew’s wedding. Cycle across the country with my partner when I’m 100 years old. I want to be able to give 1,000 pints of blood. I want to see what the next five generations of Neigers will be like.
Sidebar: Despite having five siblings (four of which are male), at this point, there is nobody carrying on my last name. That doesn’t really matter to me, I just find it funny. My sister has two boys but they took her husband’s name (as did she when they got married) and I my two brothers who have reproduced have only had daughters. This isn’t important, just kinda funny.
I want to know what my body is capable of, whether that is getting a six-pack, trying out for American Ninja Warrior, or climbing Mount Kilimanjaro without a shirt. My body is the greatest gift I have ever received, I don’t know if there is a conscious source of this gift but I am still going to try and respect it, care for it, and take it to the limits. It would be a shame to go to waste because I don’t want to be uncomfortable for 4.7% of my day.
I want to live. I love life and to get the most out of this (probably) one life then I need to suck it up and go for a run, lift some weights, and practice yoga. Very few things are within my sphere of control but, to some degree, my body is.
As I think about it, this love of life is really a big part of a lot of my identities. I’m a vegan because I love life and don’t want non-human animals to suffer or die for my pleasure. I’m an atheist (partially) because I love this life and want to make the most out of this one existence, looking towards an afterlife would hold me back. I’m an anarchist because I see the state as the largest threat to and violator of life and freedom would expand life. Part of why I’m polyamorous and pansexual and a psychonaut and kinky is because I want to taste and experience love and intimacy and reality in as many forms as possible.
So, that is why I run and lift and suffer. That’s why I pay money for someone to push me beyond my comfort zone or why I sign up to run with strangers at the buttcrack of dawn. Because in those moments I experience life and I expand my potential for more life in the future. And damn it, I love life.
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