I hate to lose. When I was a young tot, my father dubbed me a sore loser because I would holler and sulk after losing a game. It didn’t have to be a high stakes game; It could be a round of Uno or Mario Kart on the 64 (which my roommate still has by the way), I was always more competitive than my opponents. Dad, get out of my way. Grandmom, I am taking you down. By any means necessary. I enjoyed the physical act of winning, of lapping someone on the field or smacking someone’s king off the chess board. It was therapeutic. Recently, I find myself racking up a lot of L’s in life. Although I do not sulk much these days after a loss, it still gnaws at me. I need to get back to the business of winning to do away with these maturing agitations. I believe the answer is in fitness.
It’s been months since I stepped foot in the gym. My body is starting to miss the explosive concoction of free-flowing adrenaline and endorphins. The same concoction ran through my body as a child when winning a game or playing sports. After going hard in the gym, I experience a chemical win that is nostalgic and indescribable. It is my body against the weights; Earth’s gravity–a worthy competitor. I can see the glorious effects of the bouts in my body. Despite the benefits, I fail to make training sessions a consistent thing in my life. This weekend I am creating a system to ensure I almost never fall off again. This will begin the momentum I need to solidify the basics.