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.