Strength

There is a certain power that I inevitably find in working out. It is the power of beating myself down, yet at the same time building myself up. When I work out, nobody can touch me. It's just me. I hear the music blasting, my own ragged breathing, I see the sweat glistening on my body and the hair falling into my eyes, I feel my lungs and muscles pushing the limits of physical ability, and I love it. In that state, I am invincible. Even if my legs shake and I need to lean on something for support, I am on top of the world.

I love waking up the morning after a good workout, when it hurts to move. The tightness in my legs and core makes me smile. When my arms are so sore that it hurts to carry my laptop further than a couple of steps and my legs don't want to move properly, that's when I feel truly proud of myself. Working out is a battle for myself. It is a fight to prove that I can live, to show that I'm not afraid of the challenge. It is me pushing my body relentlessly to get the most out of it that I can.

I'm in my own world in this contest of strengths. My pounding heart sets the rhythm, my passions direct my body to keep going, and the pain drives me to prove my strength. It's a competition against myself. It's working out the weaknesses and imperfections. In this struggle, I don't worry about the things around me, the concerns of everyday life. People and events fade away and it's just me in my zone. I don't have to listen to anybody or do anything. I block all thoughts from my mind and let myself go.

A good workout makes everything better. It lets me accept reality and find a new source of strength. When I exercise, I work out all of my emotions, I can release them through the movement of my body. When I am at my weakest because of a workout is precisely when I am strongest because I made it. I toughed it out. I did it. That's the sort of strength that really gets me through life. This is how I live.