“I thought I was going to die.”

Last Monday, I had an impromptu conversation about training with a friend from work. About 10 people were in the break room during lunch time, catching up after time off over the holidays, bantering about fun travel experiences, and belaboring the unceremonious end to the Eagles’ season the previous night. My buddy (I’ll call him L) was telling me how his wife got him a set of dumbbells and a bench for Christmas. It sounded like one of those benches that also has a preacher curl and leg curl attachment that go on one end. You know what I’m talking about. L told me that on Christmas day, he went on YouTube, found some exercises, and went down to his basement to get after it. And then…nothing. L hasn’t been back to the basement, or the weights, in nearly two weeks. He explained to me that his problem is not being able to stick with any kind of exercise/fitness/training routine. L will do something for a day or two, or even a week, on a good stretch, and then it falls by the wayside. L played soccer in college and has always considered himself an athlete, but he’s 45 now and admitted that once his college career ended, that was pretty much it for working out. L actually looks pretty good. He’s not carrying around much extra weight, and one could imagine (not that I try to imagine my co-workers naked) that he might have a decent build with his clothes off. But this conversation led me to conclude that underneath his business casual attire, L probably has the classic skinny-fat look. He told me how he was recently visiting a friend and got invited to play in an intramural soccer game. “I used to play 90 minutes, no problem. Bro, I was in the game for five minutes. Five minutes! And I had to come out. I thought I was going to die.” It turns out that doing minimal physical activity for 20 years had not kept L game-ready when it comes to soccer. Have you ever had this experience? Remembering how you used to perform at something or how something used to feel “back in the day,” only to revisit it years later and completely get your ass handed to you. I know I have had that happen to me. It’s certainly not fun, but it can serve as a good wake-up call to get back in the gym, on the field, and into the arena of life.

During our conversation, I told L about a book I’m currently reading, “The Barbell Prescription: Strength Training for Life After 40.” This book is published by The Aasgard Company, and, much like their other books, “Starting Strength” and “Practical Programming for Strength Training,” it leaves no stone unturned. The book is dense, detailed, thorough, and does not take for granted that the reader has any prior knowledge or expertise on the subject matter.

The reason I brought this book up in my conversation with L, is because the authors describe the fight to maintain strength and retard the aging process as an all-out death match. What a perfect description. I have heard many respected figures in the strength training world (Louie Simmons, Donnie Thompson, Mark Rippetoe, Dan John, Marty Gallagher, Mark Bell) talk about how important it is to be strong, how a person’s quality of life and independence as they age are directly related to one’s ability to maintain strength. When I pointed this out to L, he actually seemed quite surprised, like he had never considered this concept before. “That’s right,” he said. “When you look at people in nursing homes, they can’t move around or do things for themselves anymore.” L’s surprise surprised me (say that five times fast), because after spending so much time reading, listening, and researching about this topic, it now seems completely self-evident, if not totally obvious. The concept of being physically strong is so important that Mark Rippetoe opens “Starting Strength” by stating, “Physical strength is the most important thing in life. This is true whether we want it to be or not.” This is why I’ve been encouraging my dad (unsuccessfully), to strength train for the past 15 years, and why it makes me sad to see so many people in the world not doing a damn thing to make, or even keep, their bodies strong. When I see people who are physically weak and don’t strength train, I actually feel bad for them. The concept of, “feeling strong,” is completely unknown to them They have no idea about the potential within themselves and the positive effect strength training has on one’s mind, body, spirit, and soul.

Physical strength training not only allows a person to maintain independence and have unfettered access to all kinds of enjoyable activities, but it also has a huge positive impact on mental health. I don’t have any studies to cite, and I’m far from a psychologist or neuroscience expert, but my personal experiences with myself and others who strength train leads me to believe that not only does maintaining strength allow for more independence, but doing something physically challenging on a daily basis teaches a person things about themselves and the world that he/she just cannot learn anywhere else. Lifting weights in an effort to get stronger takes discipline. No one can do it for you. It’s hard. You’re going to struggle. There is always a chance of failure. Setbacks and “start-overs” will happen. Other people are going to be better at it than you. All of this is exactly why it’s such a beautiful thing and such a perfect metaphor for life. If you' are an Average Joe or Jane, right in the meaty part of that bell curve (like George Costanza’s choice for the Susan Ross Scholarship), there is no free lunch when it comes to lifting. It’s hard, objective, and every day will be a gut check.

I just listened to one of Mark Rippetoe’s podcasts where he was talking about a heavy set of five squats. Sometimes the fourth rep feels heavy as hell and there is a thought in your head that if you go down with the fifth rep, you may not come back up with it. This effort, this forging on when a task is physically and mentally challenging and uncertain, is not something the average person gets to experience during a typical day. Sitting in a car on the drive to work, sitting at a desk all day, sitting in a car on the drive home from work, sitting on the couch watching TV before going to bed to start the cycle all over again. That’s it. There are many people in the world who have conditioned their bodies to be capable of handling those activities and nothing more. That is heartbreaking. Our bodies want to move, strain, and be strong. They want to be challenged and capable of adapting to changing environments and completing daily tasks. I am so grateful for the body I have and know there are many who would give anything to have the physical strength and mobility that I possess. Not taking care of what I have and enjoying all of the things my body lets me do would be a terrible waste of the undisputed best gift I have ever received.

As I write this post, I am 35 years old, and believe me, I know my day is coming. Maybe I’ll read this 40 years from now and laugh at what a dumbass I was to really belief all of this stuff. I am guaranteed to end up in the ground just like everybody else, and I may be in a nursing home for 15 years before that finally happens. But let me tell you this…I will fight tooth and nail to maintain strength every step of the way. I will do everything I can to stay strong, vital, healthy, and independent. When my day inevitably comes, I want the Grim Reaper to think to himself, “Jeez, this guy was a real pain in the ass. He just wouldn’t go quietly.”