I’m working, trying to number figures into a text. Then a friend asked me why I lift weights and another one said we do it because “life is tough, therefore we need to be strong”. I know I already wrote about this, but I forgot where. Right now, I get the feeling I disagree with my second friend – also a weightlifter. I think I lift weights for the opposite reason.

I lift weights because it’s the only way to keep the ability to see beauty and meaning in spite of all the filth in which we live.

The gutter, the sticky filth that defines our relations with people and institutions.

I lift weights because it’s the way I found to avoid my own fragmentation.

To resist the external forces that break us apart and alienate us from ourselves.

I lift weight because it’s what makes me less insane, a little more humane.

I believe I lift weights because I’m too weak not to…