From Heartbreak to Musclebound: The Tale Of Why I Joined The Gym
From Heartbreak to Musclebound: The Tale Of Why I Joined The Gym
Written By Rhett Tanner
Once upon a time, in the hallowed halls of my high school, there existed a chapter of my life that was as bewildering as it was entertaining—a chapter involving an incredibly attractive, significantly older girl. To this day, I remain perplexed about what she saw in a goofy, slightly awkward senior like me. (Maybe I was charming?) But as swiftly as she entered my life, she vanished, opting to return to her ex-boyfriend, a guy who embodied fitness and charisma. It was my first taste of love and heartbreak, the kind that feels like the end of the world.
I was devastated, utterly and completely lost. Coping was a foreign concept; all I knew was that I never wanted to feel this way again. So, three days later, in a fit of sheer determination and borderline delusion, I did something that would change my life forever—I joined a gym. In my naivety, I told myself, "I might get dumped, but it'll never again be because I'm the less fit guy."
As it turned out, my physical appearance had absolutely nothing to do with why I got dumped. But that naivety became the rocket fuel that propelled me into a life of fitness.
Love and heartbreak have been my fitness Sherpas ever since. While some couples get cozy and let themselves go, I've always taken a different approach. When I'm in a relationship, and I know someone is going to see me naked regularly, that's all the motivation I need to stay in peak form. I'm not about to let myself go and risk losing my love to a more toned, naked guy—been there, done that.
And when love slips through my fingers, once again, I'm fueled to do better. Singlehood beckons, and I'm back in the game, looking to attract a new mate, or at the very least, "win the breakup." We've all secretly wished to run into our ex, possibly with their new flame, and flash a smile that screams, "Look at me, I'm doing great!"
Honestly, after a breakup, I work extra hard, just in case they have the same idea. They might get fit and look good too, but I'm determined to win, every single time.
But let's be honest; there's a fun side to this story, and then there's the darker, sadder truth that I'll probably never mention again. While it's true that after a breakup, my goal is to bounce back and come out on top, keep in mind that all this takes place amidst heartbreak. I'd love to tell you that I'm strong, that the gym is my fortress against hurt, but I'd be lying. Love and heartbreak are my Achilles' heel. I'm a hopeless romantic, and heartbreak feels like the worst pain imaginable, and it never gets easier.
I'd just as soon have my skin scraped off with sandpaper than experience the agony of losing love again. My appetite vanishes. I've leaned over my meals, forcing down bites, gagging, and trying not to vomit, just to get some calories in. The same goes for taking my vitamins. I've watched single pills go down the sink, a task that was once effortless. You'll never catch me in the gym without headphones; music plays a massive role in my workouts and my life.
Music is my emotional compass. But in the aftermath of a breakup, all my favorite songs for that month become my worst nightmare. Spotify doesn't always get the memo that I'm going through a tough time and sometimes plays these nightmare tracks right in the middle of my workout. I've powered through heavy sets with tears streaming down my face, or finished sets of lunges, hoping no one noticed my watery eyes.
It's not easy. I get demotivated more than ever after a breakup. All I want to do is wallow in self-pity.
At almost 35 years old, and after many heartbreaks, I've realized one thing: I've survived them all. It never gets easier, and it always sucks, but I push through because I refuse to not come out on top. I refuse to lose the breakup! More than anything, I refuse to let someone walking out of my life be the reason I give up on myself.
So, ladies who dumped me, if you're reading this, know that I'm a catch!
But here's a reminder: when you're at the gym people-watching, remember that the guy who looks angry and disconnected may not be an asshole; he may be fighting through something. The woman with her hat pulled low might not be a snob who doesn't want to talk; she might be hiding tears. We all have our struggles, and I am profoundly thankful that the gym has been my refuge. I don't know where I'd be today, or if I'd even be here, if it weren't for fitness saving my life time and time again, through laughter and tears alike.
