What I Think About When I Think About Lifting*

Thoughts on Lifting and Thoughts on Thoughts While Lifting

     What do I think about when I think about lifting?  For one, just lifting in general.  I think about programs, workouts, regimens that work for me and work for others I’ve trained.  I think about the ones that didn’t work and why they didn’t work.  I suppose, more than anything else, I think about life.  I think about life when living and when lifting.  They’re inextricably bound for me, life and lifting.  My life, in many ways, is a life of lifting.

     I suppose it would be different if I wasn’t a lifter.  There are those who lift.  Then there are those who are lifters.  The former do it for any myriad of reasons.  At least, I guess they do.  I’ve trained a lot of those who fit in that group.  I’ve trained with those that fit in it.  And I’d also surmise that a lot of folks who read my writing fall into it.  I only write that because, if I’m truthful, I don’t understand them.  You might think that you can understand something that you’re not but you really can’t.  Not truly understand.  The latter lift just to lift.  They lift because it’s in their bones.  It’s down in the marrow of, dare I say, their very souls.  Those lifters I understand.

     In surfing, or so I’ve read, there is the term soul surfer.  It’s for those who surf for the love of surfing, the sheer joy of being on the waves, of abiding in, apparently, an almost contemplative dimension of surfing.  They don’t do it for fame or for money, for surfing trophies or championship competitions.  They do it for one simple reason.  It’s who they are.  If that is the case—it’s something else I don’t really know since I’m not a surfer, either—then I’m a soul lifter.

     If you have to lift—if you go to the gym, or wherever it is that you train, and you lift just to lift, you train just to train, then you’re a soul lifter, too.  Apparently, also, for the true soul surfer, the experience of surfing leaves, believe it or not (I believe it), to enlightenment, to an experience of utter oneness with not just the beach, the sand, the waves, the massive ocean itself, but with all of existence.  And if that is true, then, yep, soul lifting leads to the same thing.  Complete and total oneness with more than just the bench, the bar, the chalk, the lift itself, but with all of reality.  The wave dissolves into the ocean.  The lifter dissolves into the max squat.

     Which is also to say that when I’m lifting, I’m often not thinking about anything.  I’m just experiencing.  There’s freedom in the weightroom.  You just have to know where to find it.  Of course, you don’t find it, not really, by looking for it.  If anything, you find it when you stop looking for it.

     That’s not my experience most of the time, mind you.  Most of the time, I’m thinking about lifting while I’m lifting, and when I think about lifting I’m thinking about lifting in all of its varied nuances.  I probably approach my thoughts on lifting as a scientist approaches her particular branch.  Like the other things mentioned above, I’m not a scientist, either, so I really don’t know what the scientist thinks about while doing science.  But I imagine it involves analyzing, inspecting, approaching it with a spirit of curiosity, of wanting to know more.  That spirit of curiosity, of always wanting to learn more, of knowing that there’s more to lifting that hasn’t been uncovered.  I think about lifting in that way.

     That curious spirit must also be one of openness.  In Budo, it’s called shoshin, beginner’s mind.  The beginner’s mind is open and empty because she knows she doesn’t know.  It’s when she thinks she knows, or, even worse, knows that she knows that the spirit of openness is cut off.  You can’t learn anything if you have the expert’s mind.  Your thoughts on lifting are closed off, there’s nothing for you to learn so you won’t learn.  You’ll also stop growing, whether it’s larger or stronger muscles or as a human being.

     I’m afraid that a lot of folks think about a whole slew of things that have nothing to do with lifting while they’re lifting.  Too many trainees spend their time lifting thinking about all of the things they think about the rest of the day.  I’m not sure what those things are.  Some of it might be “good” stuff.  Some of it might be harmful thoughts—harmful thoughts are primarily just harmful for the one that thinks them.  Most of it, though, is just harmless stuff.  The only thing their thoughts are hurting is their gains in the gym.

     Humans are the ones lifting, so it does make sense that they would think the way most humans have always thought throughout our planet’s history.  A bit mindlessly.  In Zen, it’s called monkey’s mind.  We may try to calm our thoughts down, but like a monkey that jumps continually from branch to branch, our thoughts flit from one racing thought to another.  And another.  And another.  It never stops.  If you don’t think, for some oddball reason, that you have a mind like that, then try to sit in meditation for a few minutes. Try thinking about “nothing.”  Or try to think the thought of not thinking, as Dogen Zenji put it way back in the 13th century.  In 5 minutes, you’ll probably feel as if you’re going crazy.  Thoughts about this.  Thoughts about that.  Thoughts about things that you didn’t even think you thought about!  But that’s the way it is.

     I do think a lot of lifters would get better results if they could be present to their workouts.  It’s not as if you have to stop your thinking.  But just try to focus on the one thing you’re doing in the moment.  Could be squats.  Could be bench presses.  Could be barbell curls.  When you’re doing curls, just do curls.  Focus on each set.  Focus on each rep of each set.  Focus on how your muscles feel during each rep of each set.

     A lot of times, when I think about lifting, I think about lifters.  Old-school lifters.  Not so old-school lifters.  But we can learn a lot about a thing, anything, from the great ones who have done those things.  Lifting’s no different.  So, when I think about lifting, I think about my lifting heroes.  Marvin Eder, John Grimek, Doug Hepburn, Tommy Kono, Reg Park, Bill Pearl—the list could go on and on.  The point is that you should think about lifters, too.  Not just their training programs or their routines, though you should without a doubt think about their regimens, but think about the person.  I think what was it that made those lifters great?  A lot of lifters have followed similar programs.  A lot of lifters have had similar genetics—there’s more lifters with great genetics than you, or I, even realize—so there’s something more that makes those lifters not just good but great.  Think about that.  What is that?  I don’t know what that is, and I’m not saying that I do—in fact, I’m admitting that I don’t—but it’s something that needs to be thought about.  The reason I don’t know is because it’s different for different lifters.

     Ultimately, what do I think about when I think about lifting?  Everything.  God.  The Universe.  The meaning of existence.  My place within the totality of things.  Of course, as with everything else mentioned, I think about those things all the time, anyway, so it only makes sense, and it’s only natural that I would ponder those things when I ponder training.

     I’m a God-haunted person.  Some think of me as religious.  Some religious folks, when they talk to me, then seriously doubt that assertion.  I wouldn’t consider myself a “believer,” not in any modern evangelical sense.  It’s not that I don’t believe.  I have beliefs.  Sometimes, very strong ones.  But, typically, I get along with atheists as much as I do “believers.”  The god that atheists don’t believe in, I don’t believe in, either.  (That’s the reason I spelled it with a little “g.”)  But I do believe in a Transcendent Other, a mystery that holds, binds, and gathers all things together.  And, for some odd reason, that Mystery made me, with all of my eccentricities, and my emphatic love of lifting weights.

     So, when I think about lifting, I sometimes think about why I am “me.”  Who is this person that loves lifting weights, loves writing about lifting weights, loves all things lifting?  Maybe if I could answer the koan “What is your original face before your mother and father were born?” I would know the answer to that.  But, heck, perhaps I’ve just read too many long-dead Zen masters, Upanishadic seers, and far too much Jiddu Krishnamurti.

     As I age, the myriad of things that I think about when I think about lifting changes.  It makes sense.  When I was younger, I thought about muscle and strength, and how I wanted to be pound-for-pound the strongest powerlifter walking the planet.  I didn’t get there, but I at least reached a “rare air” of strength.  Now, when I think about those days, I think about how I wished I would have done things different.  Multiple herniated discs, multiple surgeries, and arthritis seemingly everywhere will do that to you.  I think about ways to stay healthy, to improve my aches and pains, and I also think about programs that I create for other lifters so that they won’t have to go through the pain I’ve gone through.  I think about that now-popular word that seems to be everywhere in the fitness world at the moment: longevity.  But I don’t think about it too much.

     You can think about things too much.  I do that, try as I might not to.  But thoughts are just thoughts.  It’s what you do with those thoughts that carries weight and meaning.  You can think about lifting until the cows come home, but it won’t matter if you don’t actually lift.  So, in the end, it is the lifting that matters most, not the thoughts about it.

     My thoughts on lifting won’t stop—I couldn’t stop them even if I wanted to.  And I’ll keep writing them down for those who actually want to read my rambling ruminations.

     I will leave you with one last consideration.  What do you think about when you think about lifting?  You don’t really have to answer it.  It could be that you don’t have an answer.  But you most certainly should think about it.

*The title of this essay was inspired by the title of the memoir “What I Talk About When I Talk About Running” by Haruki Marukami, where he, obviously, writes about running and writing.