Every time I walk in, the greatest exercise I can do at the gym is to humble myself.
Within the telltale free-weights section of the club are men who are stronger, younger, or more handsome than me. I set it all aside as best as I can. And when I reach for a weight to lift, I prioritize my form above all else. What this means is that there are fellows curling 35 or 45 pounds dumbbells. Somewhere on the floor, you'll see me lifting 15 pounds. I humble myself before the weight. This gives me the latitude to do the exercise correctly. This process has been a remarkable way of learning to set aside ego, the impulse to compare, and the need to compete. Rather than just talking big about self-determination, I am actively following my own path.
In all fairness, I do not mean to present an "either/or" strength training paradigm. It's not a matter of lifting a big weight or lifting the weight correctly. There is surely a middle ground to be had. It's not the murky gray of ambiguity or compromise. Rather, it is a shimmering graphite; the revered "moderation" of the Greeks. In this case, it takes the form of me choosing lighter exercise over no exercise, keeping a flexible and enjoyable routine, and a patient progression of increased weight rather than a punishing "Biggest Loser" program.
One of the most remarkable aspects of lifting light weights is the strength that I derive from it; not just physically but in terms of my personal character. Physically, because I pace each movement with correct form, posture, and breath (when I remember), I am able to create a very satisfying burn and contraction. I am in excellent control of the weight and, therefore, find that I can target the primary muscle group very effectively. I'm not using swinging or momentum to lift the weight. I'm not lifting it to simply complete the rep and then quickly descending on the negative movement. And I don't "relax" my muscle at the end of the repetition. Because I maintain steady tension throughout, the process a pleasure of focus and efficacy.
Personally, this process has developed inner-strength because it requires me to define myself beyond how I rank in comparison to other men. Mind you, I'm not lifting these light weights to be a rebel; I wouldn't be humbling myself if I were in "rebel mode". I'm lifting them because they are the lower end of the weights I can lift at my current strength level. Nevertheless, that strength has grown slowly and steadily every time I exercise. And that's a key point; my non-egoic pride is in just showing up and doing my best. It makes it easy to choose a spot in front of the mirror, take up the space I need to do my work, and feel that I belong there; regardless of the number etched into the side of the weight.
For me, life is a journey in which my ego is challenged, debunked, and destroyed. This dynamic may be necessary in order for an authentic self to emerge, rather than one based on pretense, insecurity, inherited values, or ancestral themes. Going to the gym is one way to develop an "internal bedrock" through the practice of balance. Although we are all born into bodies, I'm betting personal character must first take shape and solidify before we can really inhabit the world with clarity and ease.
