the hell with body transformation

Tomorrow, while some of the little ones are napping, I plan to journey to my basement for yet another adventure. On the agenda is a handful of big, basic weight training movements. But what I'm thinking about tonight is squats.

I'm going to squat a ridiculous amount of weight for an obscene number of reps. I'm not listing specifics because it will seem like bragging and that's really not my intent. I'm pretty sure that I can do it, but not certain. The total workload scares me. Which is how I like it.

Why? I don't know. Why do some people trick-out their cars or golf or play video games on a Saturday afternoon? The strength and conditioning aspects of heavy weight for high reps are mere side effects. It makes my body and mind resilient. I feel awesome with minimal repercussion, which is saying a lot for a middle aged father of five.

Don't get me wrong. I'll have to hold tight to the wall when I finish my sets, until the dizzy nausea passes. I'll have delayed onset muscle soreness for a couple of days. My knees will probably ache a bit. Which brings me back to the questions.

How do you age gracefully and yet still push the limits of what defines aging? Arthritis and dementia are not at all the same, and this is no crossword puzzle. I could care less about wrinkle lines that show I've spent some years under the sun, so why should a normal decline of speed and strength bother me so much?

I'm sure time will answer these questions, but I haven't figured them out yet.

What I do know is that I still get excited about this. I'll repeatedly tell my kids when their turn to "lift weights" is over and they have to get out of the way. A friend or two will be joining me again. We'll talk for a while before the music blasts and the suffering really begins.

And we'll walk up the basement steps as different people.

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