Ouch.
I’m in training for another race. This time, it’s Philadelphia’s Broad Street Run, which takes participants along a brisk 10-mile course from the Logan neighborhood of North Philly all the way south to the Navy Yard on the banks of the Delaware. There are no turns: this race is literally along one of the straightest contiguous roads in the entire city.
How did my wife and I end up in this race? You may remember me writing about my experience with the Charles Street 12 several years ago, a challenging race similar to the Broad Street Run, which took me from a suburb north of Baltimore all the way south to the Under Armour campus. Training was grueling, and while the race itself was fun, it was also one of the most difficult things I’ve ever put myself through. And I wanted more.
Since then, we’ve flirted with other long runs, like the Sole of the City 10K and the Baltimore 10-miler, both of which were virtual thanks to the pandemic. I was in bad shape for the 10-miler, back in June 2020, and my calves seized up into two ten-pound rocks, leaving me grumbling my way through a disappointing run-walk. I didn’t even run the Sole of the City that year—I hurt my toe kicking a door the day before we ran. It was a mess. And so the Bay Bridge Runs the past two years have been our only long-distance runs, and while they’re great, I wanted more.
Getting into the Broad Street Run is a lottery, and from the way people talked about it, getting an entry felt like a long shot. People who have run the race multiple times gain automatic bids, but for the rest of us hoi polloi, we have to put our names in a virtual hopper and hope we get picked. We had low hopes—frankly, I suggested we register just so we could get the bad luck out of the way. Specious logic, I know, but I’m just telling you how it is.
Wouldn’t you know, we got picked.
I know already that by the end of the race, I’m going to be exhausted. But the Broad Street Run isn’t the only thing happening that day. If you’ve been reading at all these past few years, then you probably know that the first Sunday in May is also the single best event Philadelphia has to offer: Sly Fox’s Bock Fest and Goat Race. Obviously we’re going to that as well, which means we’re going to get up early, run 10 miles, race home, stretch and shower, then get back in the car and drive an hour to drink beer, eat sausage, and watch goats refuse to run. It’s gonna be a day.
I’ve been in “training” for a few weeks now, and I’ll tell ya, it’s been tough going. I put training in quotes because it suggests something a little more organized than what’s going on. I started with Nike Run Club’s program, and at first, things were going fine. It calls for five runs every week, but I was happy to hit four, a combination of speed runs, recovery runs, and a single long run to stretch distances.
Things started out fine the first few weeks. Then I went to Florida and it all fell apart. I pushed myself too hard, especially in light of the terrible diet and excess alcohol consumption Florida inspires in me. Add in the stupid humidity and temperatures, and by the end of the 10K that my training plan called for one steamy Sunday morning, I was cooked—and in some serious calf pain. Also ankle pain. And shin pain. And hip and back pain. And elbow pain, for some reason.
Since then, I’ve had to roll my training back somewhat. I took about 10 days off to give my muscles time to repair, all the while trying to stretch my calves and strengthen my shins. My plan now is between 2-3 runs per week, with a long run on the weekend and one or two short, short recovery runs to keep things from tightening up too much. And so far it’s working (fingies crossed).
Still, it’s at times like this I find myself thinking about why I put myself through things like this in the name of getting into shape. All the runs, all the lifting sessions, the aches and pains and gasping and wheezing…why do I do it all?
It was just this past week, as I was enduring another lifting session at the Penn Gym that I realized what it is I’m really after. Obviously I’d like to look better. You can’t dismiss the appeal of showing up at the beach and pulling off your shirt to reveal a sleek, chiseled slab of man—or in my case, a slightly less convex chunkster of a guy. And of course I want to feel better too, both physically and emotionally, which exercise has definitely helped with.
But as I stood there between sets, looking out the third-story window towards the buildings on the other side of Walnut, I understood the real reason I’m here, the reason I keep working my body so hard after years of, you know, not. Strip everything away, the vanity and the sense of well-being, and the root reason for my workouts is this: I want to be able to age with grace.
Neither of my parents were particularly active. We never learned how to deal with stress. We ate junk far too often. And thanks to those three main factors, my dad passed at 68 and my mom had a major heart attack at 70. I don’t want to find myself in a position like them, where I’m too physically degenerated to live my life, or taken from this world before I’m done with it. And so I work.
The results so far, as I’ve shared before, are a bit mixed. After years of running (on and off), and with multiple years of admittedly unguided weight training under my belt, I’m still a fat guy—just with different bumps in some places. But I breathe easier. I move more easily than I used to. I feel stronger than ever, whether or not it’s justified. And if I’m being honest, I do flex in the mirror from time to time, and I’ll be damned if some muscles don’t show up.
I don’t regret the work I’ve put in, although it’s only natural to wish I had a little more visual progress to show for it. But there are reasons why I still look the way I do, and why I still have so much more ground to conquer. And that’s just one reason I know I’m not done putting in the effort.
I’m no health expert, and I don’t pretend to be one, either. There are plenty of people on the internet to do that (and in gyms and bars and wherever opinions are had). But what I do have is some experience as someone who’s in the middle of it, and who’s had both successes and failures. What follows are just a couple things I keep coming back to every time I start a run or pick up a weight. They’re the things I see when I look in the mirror and smile at a new muscle—and cringe at a new bulge. They’re what gets me through a bad workout, or through the poor diet and exercise choices I inevitably make. And they’re the things that keep me coming back the next day, ready to try again.
1) Getting “in shape” is not a quick process
When you start working out, it’s only natural to want to see results. I mean, running that mile, lifting that weight, eating one fewer cupcake…these are all sacrifices, in terms of our comfort. It’s so much easier to sit around and play video games, and eating cupcakes is the fucking bomb. So if I’m going to give those things up, even a little bit, I better be getting something out of it.
If you diet hard enough and train hard enough right out of the gate, you’re almost certain to lose some weight and gain some muscle. The intensity of the change will see to that. But if you’re anything like me, that kind of intensity is unsustainable: and that’s the key. If you can’t keep up that level of exercise and diet, you’ll probably start sneaking in extra snacks or skipping workouts. The resulting guilt will lead you wonder if maybe you should just give up and start again later, and before you know it, you’re back where you were before.
Making small changes that you can sustain isn’t glamorous. It’s not sexy. Heck, it’s not even fun. And you probably won’t even notice much of a difference, at least at first. Your weight will stay the same. Your muscles will look mostly the same. You may feel more tired, or hungrier, but that will probably be about it. You might even gain weight as you build muscle. But will it look like it? Only if you look really hard.
Progress in this sense isn’t something that’s measured in a day or a week. Looking at the scale every day can give you a snapshot, but the real value is looking at that number over time. How does it look over the course of several weeks? Or better yet, over a couple months? That’s the kind of big-picture thinking it takes. And it sucks. Until it doesn’t.
But when does that switch happen?
2) Results are good, but mindset is king
For me, getting in shape has always been about a goal. Getting some kind of physique. Losing weight. Fitting into my clothes better. Whatever. But that was never enough to sustain any kind of healthy (well, healthier) lifestyle. And I think that has to do with mindset.
Having a goal is great. I’d even say it’s necessary. But what’s taken me this long to realize—and that I still struggle with—is that getting in shape is not an end goal in and of itself. It’s not like you can build your body to a point you’re satisfied with, then stop and expect it to stay there. You can maybe relax a bit, not find yourself pushing to get over some invisible hump. But you can’t just quit, or you’ll go back to where you were before, or even further.
It’s building the mindset that’s the real goal, and I gotta tell ya, that sounds fucking exhausting. I wish it was as simple as getting yourself to a point you like then sitting back and enjoying your laurels. But it’s not, and that’s a damn shame. But—BUT!—if you can intertwine your mindset and your goals, if you can marry your objectives to the deeper reasons why you’re pursuing them, you stand a much better chance of lasting success.
3) Be Realistic
This one’s hard. We all want to believe that we can completely change our bodies, build ourselves into the shape we want to achieve, as long as we work hard and take our vitamins. And some people can. But those people are usually independently wealthy, or have their financial futures directly invested in their ability to stick to an exercise and diet plan provided by their employers. You know, like movie stars.
First, genes are genes. At least some of what shapes our bodies comes from within, and that can be hard to fight. I’m a barrel-chested dude, and my legs and ass come pre-thick. I didn’t do lifts and raises to get my calves this jacked—they just come that way. But those are also the genes that gave me this rounded belly and chubby cheeks. So it’s a double-edged sword. We do what we can, but there is a certain level of our physicalities that will be circumscribed by that sequence of genetic code running through our cells. We just have to accept that.
Second, remember: it took you a lifetime to get where you are. Your whole life has been a series of circumstances and choices that led you here, and no amount of work you do now and in the future will undo those facts. You’re not starting from scratch. You’re not a blank slate. And if you don’t acknowledge who you are and where you’ve come from, you’re going to be fighting a battle that you can’t win.
Being healthy means a lot of different things. But what it doesn’t mean is that you have to fit a particular size and shape. You can be perfectly healthy and carry what’s considered excess weight. You can be thin and pretty and be in terrible shape. Your joints could ache and you could still be in good cardiovascular health. And all the work in the world won’t help you if you carry that dark shit inside without finding a way to let it out. For me, being healthy is about finding ways to make my body and my brain feel better—and setting my future self up as well as I possibly can.
4) The only thing that works for you IS WHAT WORKS FOR YOU
Man, I hate tautologies. But there is no better way to say it.
There’s so much advice out there. It comes from all corners of the internet, from real-life scientists to the self-described experts of diet and exercise. They’ll tell you to eat this instead of that, or to cook food A only with food B so you avoid the pitfalls of foods C-Z. Some tell you this exercise is good and the other one is bad, while others will say that other person is an idiot, and only their exercise is worth your time, because the other exercise will destroy your body and waste your time. Some are knowledgeable, some are charlatans. Some are well-intentioned, some just want views. And most are convinced that the only way to health is to follow the path they themselves have traveled.
Bullshit.
We have lives. There is only so much time we can devote to working out. There is only so much time to cook, only so much money to buy food with, and only so many stores that sell the things we should eat instead of what we shouldn’t. There are jobs and kids and parents and exhaustion and feeling overwhelmed by everything and why can’t I just eat a French fry or a cookie or a fucking sandwich and not feel guilty?
We’re all different, and we come to our health from different places. Most of the people dispensing advice don’t know you from Adam. They may have good ideas, but if they don’t resonate with you, then they’re not good ideas—for you. And that’s fine. I hate it when people tell you the only way to do something is how they did it. Yes, their choices worked for them. Great. But we’re different people in different places and times, and that shit matters.
Don’t be ashamed because the advice someone gave you didn’t work. You can try an idea or not. You can make a choice or not. It’s not a moral failing. It’s you living your life, and we on the outside should respect that. I mean, my god, look at some of the foods people on the internet are telling you to eat. Have they ever had actual food? If I’m making chocolate cake out of an avocado and grated carrots, I’ll be damned if I’m going to tell someone it tastes just like a real cake. Because it’s not cake. It’s not cake, dammit!
Sorry. That shit bugs me. But seriously, not all advice will work for all people. What works for me may sound like bullshit to you. That doesn’t make it any less valuable for me. And you rejecting my ideas doesn’t make you any less of a person. It makes you more of a person. Find what works for you, whatever that means. Don’t let others dim your light.
5) Try to have some fun
Look, the only way I can make this work for me is if I find some kind of fun with it. Now, please be aware of how liberal I’m being with the word “fun.” For me, “fun” means making a list and checking things off. It means opening my workout log on my Jefit app, and seeing if I can beat any of my weight or reps from last time. It’s setting the challenge for that day and seeing if I can meet it, or better yet beat it. It’s like a really boring, low-stakes fitness RPG.
And that only works for me sometimes.
Look, getting in shape isn’t always going to be fun. I remember someone telling me that training to be an athlete doesn’t make running or lifting or whatever any easier. It just means you notice the discomfort less. Super fun, right?
But there’s fun in seeing yourself be able to do something you didn’t think you’d be able to do before. It can be fun to pick up a bag of groceries after a month or two of working out, and noticing it doesn’t feel as heavy as it used to. Maybe you find that you don’t grunt as much when you stand up, and that can be fun too. If you don’t believe me, get older.
For some folks, it’s the changes that make the fun. You notice a new muscle, or that you can see an ab peeking out. You find that after a week or so of feeling a little hungry, maybe you don’t feel so hungry anymore. Or maybe, if you’re a parent, picking up your kid doesn’t take quite so much effort. I don’t know. I don’t lift kids.
For others, it can be fun to make working out a social thing. If you have a friend who wants to get in shape too, you can go through the journey together. You can keep each other accountable, and you can lift some of the weight when things get heavy, both literally and metaphorically. Or join a group, whether it’s a formal class like spin or Pilates or just an informal bunch of folks looking to meet people.
If it’s all work and no play, then of course you’re going to be miserable. And when you’re miserable, you’re not going to stick to your goals. You’re certainly not going to be in the right mindset. You can’t badger yourself into being healthy. Sure, it sometimes takes some badgering to get going, even (or especially) when you’ve been doing it for years. But if that’s all you’ve got? At some point you’re going to tune yourself out.
In essence, it all comes down to finding the thing that works for you. Maybe it’s sports. Maybe it’s running. Maybe it’s powerlifting. Maybe it’s just eating better. Whatever it is, it has to work for you, and that means it has to be a little fun, too.
If something isn’t working for you, don’t keep doing it. That’s insane, right? No matter how much other people tell you it should work, you know yourself, and you know when you’re beating your head against the wall. Don’t let sunk costs keep you pounding your cranium. Give yourself a break and look for something different.
This can happen even after years of work. If your way of running feels off, if your muscles start reacting differently, or if your heart just isn’t in the same things it was when you started, it’s okay. You can change, you can do something different. You haven’t failed: you’ve grown.
I hope this hasn’t sounded like I’m preaching, because I’m not trying to. But if I am, I hope the gospel I’m sharing is one of personal freedom. You are your own person, and no one knows you better than yourself. People will tell you what works and what doesn’t, but you have to decide for yourself what to internalize. You’re in control of your body, of your health. Find whatever it is that makes you feel better, makes you feel like your mind and your body work better today than they did yesterday. And don’t let anyone make you feel bad about it.
Find your goal. Find your mindset. But most importantly, find yourself.
And listen.
MetaFrizzics 