Yeah, creative titles are my forte.
Introspection man, that’s a killer. Sometimes i wonder if i am so prone to it because i am an only child. Most people who find out this detail about me either look at me with condescending scorn or a mixture of awe and longing. And no i don’t know what it ‘feels like’. Why do people keep asking me what it ‘feels like’? What does it feel like? Now I’m curious to know.
Another thing i am curious to know is the exact reason as to why i work out. Introspection can be a killer, but no amount of it has succeeded in killing my need for physical exercise, maybe this post will.
I am one of those serial things people like to call fitness freaks. Although i’ll grant you that my physique does not reflect it very well. Well, i suppose it reflects it fairly enough given the degree of my freakhood but i digress.
I have wondered why i do it. I am ashamed to say i look at myself a lot. Thats kinda messed up when you think about it. But then we all have messed up little skeletons in our closets that we keep in locked drawers hidden deep inside the darkness, behind all the other, cooler skeletons you don’t mind people knowing about. One just hopes they’ll eventually disappear into Narnia and bother the Ice Queen or Aslan for a while instead of nagging you.
But they just stick around in the background and show up to scare the shit out of you by silently manifesting themselves when you are alone.
And I was under the impression that i was alone in thinking these thoughts. I guess I must have assumed that every other Rameez, Shehan and Lalith at the gym were simply autobots programmed to lift, flex, rest and lift and not think about it at all during any point of their whole week. That sort of crazy thinking is also probably a possible side affect of me being an only child.
Anyway last Friday i spoke to this dude with whom i’d previously had only a passing acquaintance. But on that night we had a good chat cos the gym was empty and it was hot and we were losing more water than we could take in, resulting in plenty breaks. And in a few words he articulated exactly what i felt so well that the moment i turned back to my weights all i could think was I AM NOT ALONE!
See, the narcissim gets to you. You start thinking whether the purpose of all this sweat and effort is simply for a cause as shallow as looking good. But the rush you get when you workout is like a drug. Without it you get depressed and restless and irritable.
I need to exercise to calm me down especially when im stressed with other stuff. I find it useful in order to develop a sense of perspective. I read somewhere that the drug morphine releases the same chemicals (endorphins) into your body, minus all the sweat and effort. Guess that’s the easy way out. Just pop that pill and save yourself the cost of the gym membership and all the trouble homie.
So whether i run on the beach until im exhausted, blindly punch that bag till my dad yells about shaking rafters or hit the weights at the gym till i burn im still seeking that thrill. That moment after the storm. That position of equilibrium when iv reached the top, the peak of exhaustion where i stop, pant and see the world minus the haze. My vision is clear. I think nothing.
Im an addict. Now i almost wish i could go back to being a narcissist. Almost. But the feeling is too good.