Of late lifting heavy things short distances has crept from a means to an end. I am disciplined and dedicated. I am generally neither, and rarely both. I don’t compete. The people closest to me are largely indifferent to the pursuit. There is a significant physical price in both the short and the long term. I pick things up and put them down and this is how I spend the bulk of my ambition. I am aware of how reductive and arbitrary that seems.
I don’t know how much money I made last year. I go months without writing. It’s been eight years and I’m still not sure if I passed the final half credit to secure my degree. I spent an hour today trying to figure which antiperspirant would work best on the soles of my feet, because I lost ground traction on my last set of deadlifts. These are not the actions of a well person, but the first time I pulled four plates off the ground I felt like the universe had grudgingly conceded an argument that we started in high-school. Prick.
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Flawed But Fixable 
I’m seriously obsessed with the way you write. I have never lifted anything I didn’t have to in my life, but after reading this I feel like I understand the impulse. (I still don’t share the impulse, but I understand it.) You may go months without writing, but I for one am always grateful when you publish something new here.
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As someone who professionally makes people lift things that is validating on multiple levels. Thank you, it is appreciated.
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