So the thirtheenth of March of the Lord's year twenty-twentyfive was, weirdly enough, my first time entering a fitness room in forever; and the same date -- other than dispelling every preconceived thought about "gym bros", "fitness culture" and so on and so forth -- also marked the beginning of my adventure in this world, that is, of gym training.
Now, it's been one year and, quite unsurprisingly, I'm still no expert in the matter; but by "gym training", my PT meant: mostly lifting weights, but also a bit of stretching and mobility exercises, as well as isolated muscle work using machines, a bit of cardio and some (but not yet too much) calisthenics -- in other words, just about everything you can do in a gym room, in varying quantities, depending on my schedule, the stage of muscle development, form, hand-eye coordination and so on and so forth. I shan't insist on the technical details, since most of this stuff is learned through practice rather than blabbering about it.
Still, I'll take this opportunity, as I sometimes do, to write down some thoughts about my evolution.
The first couple of months were painful, but the exercise: actually improved my overall level of energy over the day; and it sent me to sleep almost instantaneously in the evening. Plus, after said couple of months, the usual back pain, induced by years of keyboarding on a chair, started going away and my dexterity and stamina in day-to-day physical tasks improved significantly.
Meanwhile, over the summer I started understanding that not only progress isn't linear1, but there's always good days and bad days, based mostly on external factors. The only key in this shift between days where ten measly reps bring you to the point of throwing up on one hand, and the ones where you seem to be able to work out for hours on end, is the consistent doing. There's really no point to the whole "I stepped in some dung so I'll skip leg day" crap, you either do it or you don't -- which I suppose at the end of the day is true of most things in life, isn't it? Which reminds me: there's no way to do this properly without eating properly, which is perhaps a story for another time.
So anyway, today I went to the gym and I lifted a hundred kilograms off the rack. It wasn't my first time, although I really don't do it all that often, given that there's all this other stuff that I'm trying to keep up with. Still, it felt really good to remind myself that I can do the sort of stuff that a normal human being is able to do in a more physically demanding situation.
So anyanyway, here's to many more years, and hundreds of kilograms.
-
It usually comes in a discrete burst, which is actually the case with any physical skill-based task. I think I first observed this while learning to play guitar: the first months were for the most part a horrendous experience, but after a year or so I found myself suddenly actually playing, and not only chords, but full songs. And after the second year, but not one month before that, I could learn them fast and I could actually play some of the more complex stuff without struggling so much.
I'm no neurobiologist, but my guess is that as the nervous system gets worked up into the task, there's certain cumulative thresholds where specific aspects related to said task move from system 2 to system 1, in Kahneman parlance. In other words, the peripheral nervous system learns certain automatisms -- not that it can learn more than that -- which suddenly, in a step-function fashion, release some of the stress that had been previously put on the central nervous system. ↩
Dude, this is amazing news. Being able to consistently go to the gym for a year is no small achievement, and yes, everything compounds exponentially the more you keep at it. I will be watching your evolution with great Attention & Concern (TM), and perhaps this will motivate my sorry old self to get his bee-hind in the gym as well.
Thanks! And you know, as they used to say back in the day: Just do it. (tm)