My Comfort Turned Cage

Perceived freedom

I remember as if it were yesterday: the feelings of doubt deriving from low self-esteem, the sense that something needed to change, my dissatisfaction with the way I looked. Two years of excessive partying, coupled with how little I exercised, ended up taking its toll leaving me looking unhealthy, to say the least. So when I saw that a gym had opened down the street, I took it as an opportunity to improve the image I had of myself – literally. What I didn’t yet know was the level of commitment I would soon devote to lifting weights.

Gym rat

My physical fitness journey began as a way to drop what I called “the party weight.” I noticed early on that my body, despite weighing the same, was changing in build. As I filled out with muscle, I got hooked on the look. This prompted me to start taking my workouts more seriously, planning exercises to work isolated body parts on specific days. With bodybuilding now my focus, I was lifting weights a minimum of four times per week and eating five to six times a day. I slowly packed on the pounds. 

All of these changes led to signing up for my first natural bodybuilding competition when I was 24. I also competed again at 27. Although I didn’t win at either event, I was happy with my performance, so the losses never bothered me. If anything, they only motivated me to lift even more. I would continue training through muscle strains and colds, out of the irrational fear that I would lose muscle the moment I took  even one extra day off. I trained as hard as I could. I quit going out, and if I did, I only drank water and ate before leaving the house. 

I had traded one extreme for another. 

In the years I wasn’t competing, I would do absurd bulks (6,000 calories/day) so I could gain as much weight as possible (including fat) just to gain more muscle. At my heaviest, my 5’11” frame carried 260 pounds. This weight was by far the most uncomfortable I have ever been. It hurt my shoulders to sleep on my side and I was snoring like a wild boar.

My burden

Eventually, I did end up shedding the extra weight from my past bulk, reaching a more comfortable 220 pounds. The mental toll of keeping up with the workouts and meals was exhausting. Weighing every gram of protein, carb, and fat that went into my body was beginning to have the opposite effect on my mental health. The satisfaction was now gone, replaced by the disappointment of diminishing returns. Finally, I experimented by taking a break from it at the beginning of this year, only working out once or twice per week. I still weighed my food, but I relaxed the constraints of my overall diet. 

Unfortunately, after about six months of this, I relapsed and started living like a bodybuilder again. I found it difficult to shake what had become such a large part of my identity. I went at it for a few months, but it didn’t last; I just didn’t care for bodybuilding anymore. I would dread my meal between a normal person’s lunch and dinner. It had been getting in the way of other interests such as writing. I also began to feel guilty about the amount that I ate, that I was wasting the food. The thing I had devoted so much of my time to had started to defeat me. It was time to let it go.

Freedom through balance

Today, I still train hard, but only twice per week and no longer on specific days. I do it when it is convenient for me to do so. I enjoy beer and whiskey on weekends, both at home and with friends. I only eat three times per day and maybe have a snack at night. The food scale is now collecting dust in one of my cabinets. I have more time to write, read, listen to music, watch movies, and spend time with friends. Most importantly, this life change has afforded me much more time with my wife. In the end, denying aspects of myself like I had was never going to be the answer. What I really needed was balance. My new lifestyle is allowing me to become a more well-rounded individual.