Training Through the Heavy Times
Four months ago, I lost my dad to lymphoma. I still catch myself thinking he’s just at his desk, or half-expect to hear YouTube blasting from his phone while he naps on the couch.
The "after" is strange—you’re grieving, but you still have to function. In that blur, I realized my training is my primary form of self-regulation. When I’m lifting, it’s just me and the muscle. The world is quiet.
Lifting isn't a magic fix for a broken heart. But it’s where I pour my grief, my anger, and my “everything” into the reps. I don’t train to "look" a certain way; I train to feel lighter on the inside. 🤍💪
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