Training for the Mind
Photo by Redd Francisco on Unsplash
Becoming My Own Superhero – Part 5
When people talk about the gym, they usually focus on physical transformation. You know — building muscle, burning fat, chasing strength.
But for me, and I suspect for many others, the story runs deeper. Over time, I’ve realised that the gym is more than a place to lift weights; it’s a place to lift myself.
The gym is where I reset, release frustration, and steady my mind when life feels chaotic — which, at the time of writing, it absolutely does.
The gym has become my therapy.
More Than Just Muscle
My journey began like so many others: chasing visible change. I wanted definition, size, and the sharp lines that flood fitness feeds online.
For years, I thought transformation only meant what I could see in the mirror. But what I learned — often the hard way — is that chasing only the physical can leave you feeling hollow.
Numbers fluctuate. Mirrors lie. And body dysmorphia has a sneaky way of creeping in when you least expect it.
So I started to reframe my why.
Now, the gym isn’t just where I train my body — it’s where I train my mind. It’s less about sculpting a six-pack and more about sculpting peace of mind.
It’s where I unplug from the noise, switch off the chaos, and simply show up for myself. Because that act of showing up — no matter the mood, no matter the week — is, in itself, progress.
An Escape and a Reset
Some days, I can walk into the gym buzzing with energy, ready to take on the world. Other days, I arrive drained — weighed down by stress, job applications, or sleepless nights.
But almost always, I leave feeling lighter than when I came in.
You see, it’s not just about the workout; it’s about what the workout does for the mind — my mind.
The gym is an escape — a sacred space to pause the noise of life. Rep after rep, set after set, I release what I’ve been carrying.
For me, each lift becomes less about building muscle and more about letting my thoughts settle. (Don’t get me wrong, I’m still trying to build muscle.)
It’s in those quiet moments between sets that I remember one of my favourite lines from Vision in Age of Ultron:
“But a thing isn’t beautiful because it lasts. It’s a privilege to be among them.”
That quote captures what the gym means to me. The beauty isn’t in lasting change — not in the muscle that may fade or the numbers that fluctuate.
The beauty is in the moment itself — the privilege of being present, of rebuilding yourself, again and again.
Coping with the Lows
There have been weeks when my energy levels dipped, when life outside the gym felt heavier than any barbell.
Some days, progress vanished completely — no visible change, no good data, no motivation.
And yet, even then, the gym became a constant. When everything else felt uncertain, movement grounded me.
Sometimes therapy isn’t about feeling amazing; it’s about having a space to process what hurts.
A place where the noise turns to rhythm, and frustration finds its way out through movement.
For me, that place is the squat rack — or even a long walk on days I can’t face the weights.
Learning Balance
One of my biggest lessons has been balance. I’ve overtrained before — twice-a-day sessions, obsessing over metrics, trying to earn progress through exhaustion.
It didn’t work.
But rest isn’t weakness; it’s therapy in its own right.
Since taking a step back, I’ve learned that recovery, nourishment, and a mental reset are just as powerful as the grind.
When I eat well, stay hydrated, and give myself permission to rest, the gym feels like a gift — not a punishment.
A Journey That’s My Own
Perhaps the hardest battle has been against comparison. It’s easy to scroll through social media and question your worth when others’ transformations seem faster or cleaner.
But I’ve learned — and I’m still learning — that my journey is mine alone.
The gym anchors me in my progress, not someone else’s highlight reel.
When I strip it all back, the gym gives me three things: escape, reset, and resilience.
The gym isn’t just where I train my body — it’s where I train my mind to be stronger, kinder, and more patient with myself.
And in that sense, it’s not just therapy — it’s a transformation of the truest kind.
