Lifting Myself: My Journey to the Present
When I’m working out at the gym, I feel the support of my friends, our community. “You’re so strong, Abe,” they say. Or “your bar muscle-ups look great! I could never do those.” “Your deadlift is so heavy…I could never lift that much weight.” I say “thanks” and typically laugh nervously because while the positive feedback from people is nice, I still struggle with believing in myself. I tell them that they can do those things too, if they keep working hard, but most of the time, I feel like they don’t believe me and they don’t believe in themselves either – and I can relate. How can we believe in each other, but not in ourselves? I’m still working on that.
Not that I’m the Fittest on Earth, but I wish I could show a blooper and highlight reel of my CrossFit experience thus far. People always see who you are right now in this moment and not necessarily your journey to the present. If you make the movements look easy, they must come naturally or you were always athletic. That was never true for me.
In the beginning, I cried a lot. Not just after workouts, but in the middle of workouts. I felt like everything was so impossible. Box jumps. No. Pull-ups. No. Jump rope. No. It was overwhelming. At 27, I was really weak. I could barely hold a 45# barbell for any length of time before I’d start shaking. I watched videos of people doing CrossFit – pull-ups, muscle-ups, pistols, double unders, snatches – and thought I could never do that. Never. It seemed so hopeless. The difficulty of the movements coupled with never ending soreness left me defeated.
I sat on the wooden box again, crying. “I quit. I’m not good enough to do this stuff,” I said. That’s when my coach interjected at just the right time. “You are. You are good enough. You can do this. You have all of the tools available for you to do this. You just have to do it. You have to choose it. Make it a priority. If you want to be happy, choose to be happy. If you can’t be happy with yourself, no one else is going to be happy with you. Now stop crying and let’s work on your deadlift,” he said. It was a simple conversation. Some of it so cliche, too. But he was right. He wasn’t worried about being tactful or hurting my feelings. He was telling me everything I already knew, but needed to hear – out loud, in the open, where I couldn’t ignore it anymore. My ears were finally open.
I truly didn’t feel good enough. And I hadn’t for a long time. There were years of heartbreak, shame, and all of the rotten parts of life that I hadn’t let go of yet. So many mistakes. Lots of self-loathing. I was letting that define me and dictate everything in my life. My career, my relationships, my entire well-being. Not only was I physically weak, I was mentally weak too. So I stood up, wiped my face, and we worked on my deadlift. I deadlifted 150 lbs. that day – my bodyweight at the time and a new personal best. I had lifted myself off the floor. For the first time, I believed I could get stronger. Lifting heavy weight felt like much needed therapy.
From there, I started setting small goals – double unders and a pull-up. It took me 6 months to get my first pull-up. 9 months for double unders. 4 years to get a ring muscle-up. 5 years to reach a 315 lb. deadlift. These things didn’t happen by accident. I set my intentions, started working toward them, and continued to tell the voice in my head that said “you’re not good enough” to fuck off. My own voice, the one saying “you can do this”, kept getting louder. My accomplishments in the gym started to spill over into other areas of my life giving me confidence and opportunity. My relationships improved. I felt like I could be myself.
I’m still fighting the “self-worth” battle, but now I don’t feel so alone. There’s a community of people who believe in me when I, at times, find it difficult. You can’t always see everyone’s journey to the present, but everyone is fighting something. We just have to believe in each other. Be each other’s army, family, wingman, friend, coach, whatever.
Everyone has a story to share and I’ve learned that most of the time, nothing is as it seems. Being your best self is never effortless or easy. It takes work and sometimes it takes someone telling you that you can actually do it – that you deserve it and that you are enough. I found myself in CrossFit when I picked up the barbell that day. You might not. And that’s OK. But challenge yourself in whatever it is that you choose to do. Set positive goals and reach them. And when someone tells you how strong you are, say “thank you” and believe them.
Stay gold,
Abrie