Who Are You Talking About?

Magnificent? Inspiring? Strong? Athlete?

Nice words, I like them. I use them in reference to other people. Sometimes they get used to describe me. There's where my confusion comes in. I can own strong, I like to think of myself as strong. Even when I'm working on overhead presses with kettlebells and wonder if dropping one on my head will stop that form of torture I recognize I'm strong.

You already know I don't see how I'm inspiring. I just don't and I'm not asking anyone to try to explain it to me again. I am pretty sure that I'll never see how I inspire others and that's really okay. I'm just trying to do me and working on figuring out just who "me" is.

If I have difficulty with inspiring you can imagine how "magnificent" makes me feel. Just in case you wondered it makes me feel uncomfortable, very, very uncomfortable. I know I don't see myself as other people do. I see the faults, every one of them, in glaring detail. For the sake of honesty I probably manufacture some faults and see true faults as much bigger than they really are. I'm my own worst critic that's never going to change. There are times I am proud of myself, but underlying that pride is thinking about how I could have been better. There's nothing wrong with striving to be better and working to be better, but even I know that sometimes it is okay to just feel proud.

Athlete, there's the word I struggle with the most. I've even looked up the definition and here's how Merriam-Webster defines athlete: a person who is trained or skilled in exercises, sports or games requiring physical strength, agility or stamina. Okay, so that seems to fit me: powerlifting is definitely a sport, I consider my fellow powerlifters to be athletes. I still have a hard time referring to myself as an athlete.

I don't see myself as an athlete because for so many years I was not much more than an accomplished couch potato. I was a fat kid who grew into a fat adult. I could and would devour huge quantities of junk food without thought and without tasting most of it. I regarded exercise as a form of punishment.

I was almost 42 years old when I discovered fitness. I'm 5 years older, possibly a little wiser and I can't imagine my life anymore without the gym. I consider the Pride Fitness Performance Center my second home, though in reality I may spend more hours there than I do in my own home. My coach commented recently that he sees me more in a week than he sees Coach T. He's not wrong, I know I see him more than I see my mother. I'm not complaining and I don't think he was either, it's just the way it is. I asked to go to the next level and Coach D thought I had the potential so he signed on. He claims he knew he was signing on for the big ball of crazy that I am, but I'm not so sure. Poor guy he's tough, strong and exceedingly patient with me. I am still amazed at times that a man 20 years younger than me can be so much wiser.

Last night I went to dinner with a group of friends. Hailey, the extraordinary organizer, said it was to celebrate my last meet. That made me uncomfortable, so I thought of it as celebrating the wonderful people who give their time to sit around for hours waiting to watch me lift heavy stuff. I've talked with Nikki about it and she said she truly enjoys it. I think everyone who comes feels the same and I am beyond thankful. There is nothing more comforting than stepping onto that platform knowing my friends are close by, hearing their comments and then going inward to find that place the beast rests and spur her to action. I'm not always successful, but I always try and I know I try harder because I want them to be proud, I want them to feel like their time is well-spent.

I've come to another realization recently: I don't just powerlift for me. That wouldn't be enough to keep me training and perfecting my technique and form. I'd like to tell you that I would push through those times when nothing goes right and it feels like I've forgotten how to do everything, but I might as well be honest. If I were doing this just for myself then I wouldn't do it. As much as I love my coach and my friends I don't just do it for them either.

So who do I do this for? I do it for other couch potatoes. I do it for those who don't think they have any worth. I do it for people who feel so battered and scarred by life that it they think it would be better to just quit. I do it for everyone who is self-conscious about their body and themselves in general. I may not see how or why I am inspiring, but I figure if some people see me that way I should capitalize on that. I should use what I have to make the world a better place if I can. I fail spectacularly at that at times, but it doesn't mean I'm not trying. I'm not perfect, I'm never going to be perfect, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to try.

Of course I recognize that powerlifting may not be at the forefront of everyone's life the way it is in mine. I have always heard that you should use what gifts you've been given and I was given this body that seems suited to squatting, deadlifting and bench pressing so I'm going to use it. Maybe I won't reach anyone, maybe no one really cares. That's okay too. I'm not doing it for attention or applause: those things are nice, I'm not complaining, but they are uncomfortable. If just one person sees that despite feeling all lumpy and awkward in my singlet I'm still doing what I love and it makes them feel better about themselves that's a wonderful thing.

Before I go a picture of most of the fabulous people who support me and encourage me to be better.

Bottom l-to-r: Carole, Jamie, Keri, Nikki. Top l-to-r: Gregg, Barry, me, Hailey, Lyndsay, Lindsay. Not in the picture and missed: Jen, Sylvie, Eric, Pat and Dane

Thanks for reading!