The Gym Is My Sanctuary

As I stepped under the bar in the squat rack at GoodLife Fitness, I was still feeling a bit weak. i was looking at an empty barbell, roughly 45 pounds, that was waiting patiently to moved. It wasn’t going anywhere unless I moved it somewhere. It’s funny like that. Seeing that this was my first workout in a week after getting COVID, I wasn’t sure just how this particular exercise and all of the following exercises were going to go today. The fact that I had actually made it into the gym was already a notch in my win column. Right?

With a playlist full of hard charging anthems with shredding guitar riffs, driving drum beats, and Axel Rose like vocals cascading through my ear canals, my inner voice had the audacity to suggest a more serene workout than the one I was presently embarking on. It included such benign and soothing exercises like walking on a treadmill, trying to hold a plank or two for half a minute, and perhaps even using a foam roller to loosen up that pesky ilio-tibial band for a half hour. And then, as a well deserved award, sit in a massage chair for another half hour while telling myself how awesome I was for ‘getting back on track’ today. Hey, I could even post it to my X/Twitter channel in the hopes of getting 10 views and 1 like from a bot. Let’s not get carried away here, Al.

But then I raised the bar…actually I lowered it first by performing a low bar squat with reasonably good form, achieved good squat depth, and THEN I raised the bar. And then I did it again. And again. And again. Not going to lie; my legs quivered a bit, my left shoulder had a mild spasm like it always does during the first warm up set, and it felt like my blood pressure was 85/45 (and unlike golf here, lower numbers are not better).

For a moment, that other voice spoke to me again…questioning my exercise selection and presenting some cushy alternatives like the ones above. But I forged ahead….slowly adding plates to the bar, maintaining good form, and not passing out. For some insane reason, an old Barry Manilow song wafted throughout my inner conscious temporarily preempting the Enter Sandman track that had been playing. “Looks like we made it!” was the chorus that crowded out the ‘Off to never never land’ which signaled to me that I was going to be alright. I was back and I was in my sanctuary baby. No one is going to kick sand in my face today!

After I completed a squat routine that begins every workout, I moved on to a full body routine that included a combination of barbells, dumbbells (is it ironic that I misspelled this word first time around), and cables that took roughly an hour and 15 minutes. Although I didn’t go extremely heavy today, I pushed myself and put myself in position to be back on track by the end of the week.

Not to compare the gym to a sacred place of worship, but I feel that the gym for me is my safe place. I consider it a shrine of iron – a place that I can escape to and dedicate 3-4 sessions a week to becoming a stronger version of myself ; physically, mentally, emotionally, and spritually. Ok, I made that reference again but for me it is a visceral experience and hard to fully explain to someone who doesn’t go to the gym. But I’ll try.

There are many well documented health benefits to going to the gym or following ANY exercise routine. It is important as we age that we try to stay as fit as possible and maintain as much muscle mass as possible. In fact, one of the top metrics for living a longer life is muscle mass. So resistance training should always be in one’s toolbox. For the life of me, I couldn’t tell you where my toolbox is at home (?buried in furnace room), but I certainly have a fitness toolbox that includes following a good diet, resistance training, and walking.

But again, you go to a sanctuary where you share a space with equally motivated and dedicated parishioners, or in this case, other gym members. Often at ungodly hours (honestly, no play on words there). It’s a community where everyone supports each other and it is very therapeutic. Fellow members become your friends and you enjoy seeing them when you attend your service – there’s a mutual respect that is present, especially if you have been at it since you were a young boy.

This type of sanctuary also helps you get through tough times – we all have those for sure. For example, when there are trying times at work, or if you are going through a rough patch with your spouse or children, the gym will always welcome you with open arms. About 8 years ago, my dad passed away and I totally immersed myself at the gym and had the most productive workouts on record. He inspired me and felt he was with me through all of them. Funnily enough, my dad was the one who bought me my first weight set with a bench back in the 70’s when I was just 12 years old. I can still vivdly picture those mocha coloured, clunky, round plastic wights filled with sand with the metal collars. Classic.

Better wrap this post up soon as I promised my wife I would cook dinner tonight and I still have to go out and get the ingredients. I have many other thoughts on the place I call my sanctuary but will have to save them for another time.

This post is in now way suggesting that one should eschew the traditional forms of worship and spirituality in favour of a syndicated gym membership. There are many ways up Everest as they say but I would suggest a sherpa if you actually decide to literally pursue this metaphor. Whatever path you follow, I hope that you too find solace, peace, and prosperity that will fulfil your soul. And remember, don’t skip leg day!

As always, thanks for checking out this post – I appreciate your time!

Al