There’s a reason we take time from our day to go to the gym. There’s a reason we pay close attention to our diet and spend evenings working on mobility. There’s a reason we read and talk about strength training every day online. Imagine:

Chalk floats softly through the air. The thumping of your heart is all you hear, all you feel. You step to the bar and place your hands on it, feeling the cold knurling on callused hands. The whirling hurricane of emotion settles into the eye of the storm, the peaceful moment when you have to make a decision to begin.

This introspection is the true reason we love training. That delicate, beautiful moment before starting a lift is the ultimate reflection of the soul. Is it angry, irritable, and ready to tear flesh with gnashing teeth? Or is it unsure, unsteady, and hesitant? As Henry Ford said, “Whether you think you can or think you can’t — you’re right.”

There are moments where our bodies feel defeated, incapable. Whether the fire comes from within, a friend, or music, our minds can kick down the door of possibilities and force the body to destroy a set with frightening clarity. The ability was always there, yet we must learn how to awaken it every training session. The fire rises, brother.

Your co-workers have an idea of who you are, some kind of abstraction. But there’s more to you, something illusory that no one can understand. You can stand there smiling while shaking hands, feeling their flesh gripping yours. Your lifestyles may even be comparable, but the truth is that they know nothing of the internal struggles, battles, triumphs, and failures you regularly feel. They’ll never understand the significance of cold, rough steel. Instead of bothering with these true moments of clarity, you smile again and ask how their Tuesday evening was. It’s easier that way.