Suffer In Silence

When I was younger I injured my shoulder playing baseball. Before the setback I was playing on four different teams at the same time, I was pretty good and was trying to get my name better known in the area before my first high school season started. I was on second base during a big game in a travel tournament in Wisconsin when I took a Jackie Robinson-esque lead that was big enough to make the pitcher decide to attempt to pick me off. Unfortunately, neither of his middle infielders covered the bag and the ball nailed me in the arm instead of a glove.

I finished the game (first bonehead move) before heading to the doctor the next day. "You need to rehab this once a day for the next 3 months." Unfortunately, I was young, and dumb and stubborn... qualities that can be a blessing one day and a curse the next. So I thanked her, stuck the paperwork in my backpack and headed to practice, albeit I was 10 minutes late.

I still feel the consequences of my decision to this day, some of which I am oddly enough thankful for. Because of my grit at such a young age, I got called up to varsity by the time playoffs rolled around my freshman year. Because of my dumb decision, I was ready to cry like a schoolgirl during some of my workouts this past week. And because of my stubbornness, I am a far better athlete today than I ever could have imagined.

Pullups, toes to bar, handstands, it all sucks. Weighing in at over 200 pounds, seeing anything on the whiteboard that involves gymnastics movements or shoulder blasting exercises puts me in a "I just got dumped at prom" depression. Big men like myself shouldn't be doing cardio or gymnastics of any form, lest you want to see a grown man cry... but I do them every day anyways.

BLUE, YOU'RE MY BOY!

One of the greatest lessons I learned in recent years was to "suffer in silence", an idea first introduced to me while I was participating in my first Goruck challenge, an endurance event ran by former military special operations instructors. 13 hours and almost 23 miles later, I had gotten pushed passed my limits both mentally and physically. The physical wounds were evident, broken metatarsal bones in both of my feet, terrible shin splints and chaffing out the wazoo near my yohoo.

And although when I woke up most people would think I was relieved it was all finally done, all I felt was anger. Because although I was in pain there were plenty of people in my class in far worst condition than I... and they didn't bitch during it. Instead of making excuses, instead of taking the easy way out, instead of side stepping opportunity for growth, they put their heads down and trudged forward. I felt as though I had failed my team and I decided from that day forward to find some testicular fortitude and learn how to harden the fuck up.

No matter your exercise regiment, you will ultimately have to do things you dislike and some stuff you absolutely hate if you ever expect to get better. Whether it be tough workouts, sticking to a nutrition plan, no free time on weekends due to your competition schedule, whatever. Nobody ever said achieving your idea of peak physical fitness would be fun or easy. And although many people claim to be dedicated to this life, few truly are.

Less time whining, more time nailing the prom queen

Being dedicated means waking up early to put in that extra work before the sun comes up. It means closing down the gym even though you just got off of a long, hard day at work. It means ordering a salad when you meet up with your friends who are all scuffing down burgers & fries. It means going to bed early on a Friday night instead of raging at the bars till the early morning hours.

Being dedicated means doing those movements you suck at, on a consistent basis, even if you feel like the laughing stock of the gym. It means showing up even when you know ahead of time the planned workout isn't what you want to do. Being dedicated means staying humble, knowing that you can't play with the big boy weights until your body is conditioned to handle them... no matter how big of a Sally that makes you feel like. Being dedicated means you're willing to go up against the best and get absolutely crushed, only to come back again the next day ready for round two.

The dedicated are those willing to endure not only the physical pain, but the psychological as well. The vast majority of individuals (myself included) suffer from lingering cases of mental dwarfism... we let our minds quit far before our bodies are ready to shut down. And that's natural, that's our body's way of telling us we're coming close to the breaking point. However, it's not until we're broken that we can build ourselves better.

Henry Rollins once said, "Scar tissue is stronger than regular tissue. Realize the strength, move on." I hold that statement dear to my heart. Workouts (and life in general) become much easier when you realize the strength your setbacks have given you. Whether it be a nagging shoulder injury, a bad workout, losing a job or going through a bad breakup... whatever happened has happened. You can continue to sulk and feel sorry for yourself, or you can find the testicular/ovarian fortitude to get over it and go get shit done.

Leave the cream at home... nut up and shut up

Tomorrow's a new day, another chance to turn it all around... IF you're lucky enough to get it. So when you wake up in the morning, seize the fucking day... really seize it. Every day is an opportunity to be better than yesterday, or worse... the choice is yours. Quitting workouts early, counting reps that shouldn't be counted, having cheat meals, they do nothing but halt your progress. The effects may not be immediately visible, but the shortcuts will eat at your sinew.

So the next time you hit a wall, realize you have a choice. You can stop, cry and ask for someone to come coddle you till your boo-boo feels better... OR you can punch and kick the wall till the fucker eventually falls down. I know what choice I've learned to make... what's yours?