The Health Manifesto.

I’ve shared why I started lifting. That’s simple to answer. I noticed a mental identification of myself with the adjective “weak”. I also noticed a complete resistance to anything strength-related. I was the guy in High School who wrote papers on why gym should be dropped. So in the spirit of going completely against myself, I decided to “get in shape”. That was my initial inspiration. Stronger, bigger, these were specific goals that came later as I realized how hazy a goal “Get in shape” is.

But why everything else? I never expected my little experiment to last so long, to become what it has. Forget lifting for a moment, why all this change in my diet? Why am I still kicking at this? What keeps me going? Amidst my interior monologue recently, I came across a similar thoughtline. My answer was rather simple.

I had one grandfather who smoked for many years. By the time I was cognitive enough to know the man, he was a victim of multiple heart attacks, health problems, and surgeries. The last ten years of his life were of poor quality. And that’s just not the way I want to go.

My other grandfather was overweight even when I was a child, a big huggable grandpa. He was also diabetic. I remember how he’d try to sneak food while my Grandma wasn’t looking. He had a knee surgery or two, mostly needed due to the stress of his weight on his knees. When I was little, he was active, as much as an old bugger will be. Up and about, picking up pails of corn with his pinky. Show-off. By the end of his lifetime, he barely got up from his own chair, and my Grandma resigned responsibility from his self-destruction.

And that’s just not the way I want to go, either. Growing up, my dad would feed me the line, “Well, you’re young, you can eat anything you want.” Look at me. I lived off of donuts, and you could see my ribs. I could be a donut away from a heart attack and never know it. So I realized that it’s not my outsides that matter, but my insides. I’ve never, ever been in any sort of physical shape. The last thing I want is to be old and not have the physical capacity to do anything. If you have a basis of muscle mass and cardiovascular strength, you have a much higher chance of surviving trauma that most humans might not. Just look at Patrik Elias surviving Heptitis A. He was emasciated after his survival, but he fucking lived.

My goal is to build up a basis of muscular strength and size, as well as basic cardiovascular quality. (I think of muscle mass as a reservoir of nucleotides and protein, should anything bad happen to me.) For how long? For the rest of my life. I’m only 23, I know guys that started when they were in their 30’s or 40’s. Regardless of pace, if you lift for ten or twenty years, you’re going to be in good shape.

I’m tired of eating crap. The more I read into nutrition, the less I can stand putting chemicals and additives into my bloodstream. It strains the liver, it strains the kidneys, and you’re not really eating food, you’re just eating garbage. And more importantly, I’m tired of eating things that will just clog up my arteries. Why wait until you don’t have it anymore to care about your health?

So fuck your cigarettes, fuck your cookies, and fuck your pie. I’m not dying that way.