Why I'm Long on Physical Strength

When I began training with a barbell, it was not in pursuit of strength. It was because I wanted to be healthy, I was tired of running, and I admired the aesthetic simplicity of a machined steel bar and circular iron plates. That simplicity stood in contrast to a gym packed with specialized machines. Strength was an afterthought.

As my training progressed, so too did the results. Physically, I found myself picking up the large cast iron pan I cook with one-handed. One rowdy night a buddy challenged me to arm wrestle him and suffered an embarrassing defeat soon after. These are small wins to be sure, but similar instances accrued daily. Furthermore, these changes had a deliciously tangible quality unlike those I may or may not have observed across those years of running. Going to the gym was now “training”, not “working out” or “exercising.”

Mentally I began to feel calmer. Irritating things and people bothered me less. Situations that formerly sparked fear lost their edge. I had other, scarier things to worry about now. Namely, the barbell suspended in front of me, loaded with smooth black iron, waiting to fulfill its end of a deal with gravity to staple me against the floor.

Strength is Fundamental to Our Existence as Corporal Beings

Strength is the ability to produce force against an external load. That’s everything we do that involves interacting with a physical world. I think it’s something most people could use some more of.

This is a controversial idea, but also seems obvious.

Our language equates “strength” with “good”. “A strong currency”, a “strong building”, and a “strong argument” are all desirable things.

I wouldn’t pay somebody to build me a house and then complain that it wasn’t weak enough.

Yet I find that strength receives comparatively little attention in the corporal realm. Today when it comes to our bodies, we’re told to reduce things: lower cholesterol, reduce blood pressure, slow the heart rate, lose fat, eliminate stress, drop pounds, reduce our risk of everything.

These ideas come from a genuine place. We care about our health, and for many in the US these are valid concerns.

But what if we explored the other direction? What if instead of eliminating ailments and avoiding harm, we shifted our focus to pursuing growth? Bigger muscles, of course, but also harder bones, stronger joints, a more efficient central nervous system, and mental resilience – would that not help us pursue all of our other goals (even those that involve reduction)?

It’s the Training that Matters

Now that I’ve trained seriously for years, I’ve realized that strength, while hugely helpful to health and daily life, isn’t actually the main benefit. Like most other beautiful things in life, it’s the product of years of shaping in a harsh environment.

I now consider strength training to be an autotelic activity. If a spellbinder materialized before me and offered to boost me to the highest strength levels available as determined by my genetics with no catches, I’d refuse (let’s pretend this situation makes sense). Because training for strength is what’s important.

The gains in strength that come with training are welcome and hugely beneficial, of course. But the most rewarding part is the routine of training. When you train, you consistently push yourself beyond what you were previously capable of – and you do it over and over again.

Initially you’ll care about how much others are lifting and how much bigger their numbers are than yours, but you quickly lose interest and become far more invested in how your performance compares to that of yourself 48 hours ago. Your focus turns inward. All you care about is putting five more pounds on the bar the next time you train. Each time you succeed in adding five more pounds, you feel a greater sense of accomplishment.

You notice that what was soul crushingly heavy two months ago is now routine. It’s never fun lifting it, but it’s nothing to fear.