“The Iron Never Lies”:How rediscovering weightlifting and exercise changed a destructive pattern.

“The Iron never lies to you. You can walk outside and listen to all kinds of talk, get told your a God or a total bastard. The Iron will always kick you the real deal…Friends may come and go. But two hundred pounds is always two hundred pounds.” – Henry Rollins

I had put down the weights for too long. A general feeling of depression, anxiety, and overall discontent with myself, my relationships and my life began to slowly creep up on me. I believe this happened because I stopped adding the good stress, vigorous exercise, into my life and subconsciously began to add stress in other far more harmful ways: drinking too much, overthinking, becoming progressively more and more disillusioned and hopeless about the trajectory of my life. Lashing out at friends and family, even strangers.

I became an entirely different person, physically and mentally, all because I stopped picking up the weight. I had become content with replacing the high felt after exercise, the high of accomplishment and knowing what you’re made of at that moment, with the high you can purchase in any liquor store for $10. I wanted oblivion. I wanted to forget. But forget what? I didn’t know what I wanted to forget until I picked up the weights again. I realized that the weights we don’t lift externally, we force inside ourselves and lift with our spirits, our hearts and our minds.

What did it take for me to go back to the gym and pick up the weight again? Desire and Disgust. A desire to be better, stronger and healthier than I had been for the past two years. And disgust with who I had become: a talker, a dreamer, a passive observer of my life. A physically and mentally weaker person then I had been before. For too long I had felt myself getting physically and mentally weaker, and I had become o.k. with it.  For too long I had put off being completely honest with myself. Something had to change.

What I had done to my body and mind in two years went away in ten days. I went to the gym every day and lifted until I couldn’t anymore. Purification through Pain. Once it started to hurt, I would briefly toy with the idea of going home. I called myself out on my bullshit and did another set. This was the only way to dull the psychic pain and boredom I had become accustom to: replace it with physical stress, external pain, and the psychic pain and tension becomes reduced.

I felt stronger almost immediately. I had more energy, was in a better mood, and felt more confident in myself. This was the feeling that I had remembered. All it took was picking up the weight. Not being afraid of the pain, because the psychic pain you have become accustomed too is far more painful than the pain the weights bring you. It is always better to be strong than weak, in all areas of your life. But starting with the physical is essential. It trains your mind as well as your body. It teaches us that we are far more powerful and capable than we believe ourselves to be.

The in between Times

In between my time in the mountains my life spirals out of control a little bit. I drink more. I sleep less. I focus less. I eat less. I daydream more (unproductively). I smoke more cigarettes. I spend more money.

Up until a week or so before my next trip. Then I focus. Then I repack my backpack five times, tweeking something each time. Then I go over the map and bail out routes and mileage and elevation change multiple times. Why don’t I have this level of attention to detail and dogged determination to prepare in other areas of my life? Like work, like my social relationships, like with my family?

I can’t answer these things.

The only thing I know is that the trail and the mountains makes me feel alive. Alive in a way that nothing else does. Not fatherhood.Not responsibility. None of the things society tells you that you should enjoy. Not beer, nor liquor. Not weed or cigarettes. No.

The trail is the only thing. For better or worse, the only thing I’ve surrendered myself to is lines on a map with the hopes of a narrow strip of dirt down the line.

Humbled Ambitions : First Trip to the Adirondacks 4/28/17-4/30/17

Things look a lot different on a map. Sure, there’s a lean-to here. Oh, we’ll just take this trail. Planning a route with your brand new map spread across the table at home is a lot of fun. It seems so simple, so straightforward and easy. Of course, as history has shown us many times, once you get your boots on the ground the best plans can go awry. My good friend Jeff was kind enough to come along with me on this trip. I’m sure he could tell I was excited. I did do a lot of research and preparation for this. However, conflicting condition reports lead me to the decision to leave the snow shoes at home. I left to pick up Jeff right after I got off work on Friday night. All day at work I was super excited an anxious to be on my way. Got to Jeff’s around eight-thirty at night, and after a quick gear check we were on our way. The drive up to Keene Valley was long and dark. It seemed even longer because I just couldn’t wait to get there and actually be in the place I had been staring at on a map for two weeks.

We arrived at the Garden parking area in Keene Valley a little after one a.m. I took my contacts out, hoping to soak them and rest my eyes for a little bit. I had been wearing them all day and needed to have them off my eyes. After I did that Jeff and I proceeded to get our gear fully together and drop the envelope with our parking money at the gate. A few minutes before we were ready to head out, I tried to put my contacts back in. I got the left eye, but the right contact slid off my finger and disappeared into the tan interior of my car. After a few minutes of fruitless searching, I gave up and resigned myself to having less than 20/20 vision in my right eye for the trip. Not a big deal. The mountains are big enough to see without contacts in right? We approached the trail log and signed in. Laid on the ground were a few ominous signs: a broken snowshoe, A single, lonely croc, a broken trekking pole.