At some point more recent in my life, health became one of my top priorities. Growing up, I remember my grandpa always said, “without health, you have nothing.” I seriously wondered what this old man was talking about. After all, I was pre-occupied with being a kid — my newest video game obsession, talking to friends online, flash games — the list goes on (wow, all digital).
In middle school I had McDonalds and lemon iced tea almost every day for lunch (no idea why they served this at school), happily ate as much as I could of whatever was on the dinner table each night, and would buy instant noodles, chips, and other snacks whenever I had enough allowance to do so. Back then, ignorance was definitely bliss when it came to food, calories, and nutrition, for I never once thought I should eat less or felt bad about eating too much. What I do remember, however, was thinking I was fat, and not liking that about myself.
But, there was a wonderful solution. It all started around high school, when my older brother came up to me one day with his laptop open, and started playing a video titled “David Laid 3 Year Natural Transformation 14-17.” I was in awe. I thought to myself, “wow, is that what lifting will do to my body?” For prepubescent me, David Laid and his crew that frequently posted gym vlogs, were my biggest inspiration to want to get in shape. He gave me and my brother hope. The next thing I know, we were obsessed with consuming gym information online, whether it be YouTube, bodybuilding.com, or the random oldschool fitness books on my dad’s shelf. We started biking half an hour to get to the nearest gym to get workouts in.
Many years later, I still go to the gym, though my focus has shifted over time. Then, working out was a brand new experience. Playing around with foreign machines, picking heavy things up, straining my muscles, and the ensuing soreness — it all felt glorious. In college, it was social, we were just a couple of guys who wanted to get stronger, look better, and build ourselves up. When I started work, I wanted to see how much progress I could make if I dedicated myself to training, nutrition, and recovery. The gym gave me purpose.
I remember thinking about all the physical and mental benefits it was providing me. Physically, I was stronger, looked better, ate healthier, and locked in better sleep and recovery. Mentally, I built strong evidence for myself that progress comes with consistency. I learned to enjoy the process rather than obsess over how much I could lift or how I looked. To this day, there have been few things more rewarding and beneficial to me than the processes that come with transforming your own body. It’s no wonder that fitness is a passion many people share.
And then, without much warning, it was taken away. As of today, I have been in recovery for ~3 months from a foot injury. I miss the routine of the gym dearly. The first extended period of time I have been out of commission, I’ve been surprised to learn that recovery is as difficult a mental battle as it is a physical one. Far different from what felt like more linear progress I have made in other physical pursuits, such as the formulaic approach to weight loss, hinging upon “calories in < calories out,” my progress with recovery has been riddled with setbacks, and has required an immense amount of patience and discipline. This has forced me to look inward.
As someone who has always been very independent, being helpless has transformed the way I view my relationships. Early on life, I developed a stoic demeanor. I mostly kept to myself, and snuffed out my negative feelings with distractions and substances. I neglected feelings of frustration, sadness, and I found reprieve and joy in the things that felt good in the moment.
My independence became part of my identity. I learned that I did not need to, and could not rely on others, and that doing so would not only signal my incapability and weakness, but also burden them unnecessarily. For years, these beliefs held me back in countless areas of life. Eventually, I asked myself, “if I would be willing to help my friends and loved ones, why wouldn’t they do the same for me?” So I simply started asking. We are social beings afterall, and our capacity for helping each other runs deep.
It’s fascinating how my struggles with health have in turn bestowed such meaningful lessons. A silver lining. An unexpected boon. While seemingly trivial compared to the bodily and mental ailments that others endure, my damaged foot has helped me unlearn deepseated beliefs that have limited me my whole life. It has taught me how to embrace uncertainty and focus on that which is within my control. It has taught me that we are resilient by nature.
As I continue to reflect, I’m amazed by how we are able to grapple with adversity using reason and make sense of our misfortunes. Much like what the gym and fitness has taught me on growth, injury has helped me understand and internalize the value in enduring and overcoming pain.
Good health and fitness are fundamental to the life I want to live. I’d like to run and play with my kids one day. I’d like to see more of the Bay Area’s beauty on bicycle. And when the time comes, I’d like to tell my grandpa that he was right all along — that without health, you have nothing. But I’d like to tell my grandchildren something slightly different. “With health, you can have everything.”