Why I Work Out, and Why You Should Too

Why I Work Out, and Why You Should Too

The majority of this post is going to be aimed at my fellow males. There is nothing in it that doesn’t equally apply to women, but my main focus here is an exhortation to men. Furthermore, if you’ve experienced rape or assault first-hand, you may want to steer clear.

I’m a nerd. I have what would be kindly referred to as a “bookish” body. However, I’m trying to change this.

There are a raft of benefits to being in shape. If you possess an excess of black bile, such as myself, exercise can help you to keep your shit on the up-and-up. Endorphins are important, and, unlike MDMA, exercise won’t blow through your receptors…as quickly. Plus, regular exercise can better your complexion, regulate your sleeping patterns, all manner of sweet things.

And, let’s not forget, fit people are, well, fit. Who doesn’t want to look good? I’m not cool with body shaming; gods know, the human body is plastic enough that even the idea of a “proper” look is absurd. That said, you can generally tell when someone is healthy, however much they might weigh. Looking better and being healthier, and the vanity of such, is a large part of my being more active. After all, I’ve only got this body on loan for a few decades, so I might as well make the most of it while I can.

Those two points, worthy as they might be, are not what I want to talk about here, today, though. Time to get serious. I work out so that I can fight. Violence is always the last recourse. You should try everything you can to diffuse a situation before resorting to it. However, once more diplomatic methods have been exhausted, you need to be able to back yourself up. I speak with a particular eye towards rape. I started actively working out following the media frenzy around the Steubenville episode back in August of 2012. I’m loathe to repeat the details of the situation, but if I shouldn’t the following won’t make as much sense. At a house party, a high-school student was repeatedly raped, after she had passed out, by two athletes, which was recorded as it occurred. The town rallied behind them, the athletes, as did the mainstream media, in a deplorable show of misogyny and victim blaming.

However unlikely it might be that I should find myself in a situation like that – I don’t really fraternise with individuals such of ill-repute or barbarous tendencies – I want, I need, to be able to do something about it. I need to be big enough, I need to be fast enough, I need to be strong enough, to stop that from happening. Because that is, very simply, the worst crime I can think of, and I could not abide it being done in my presence.

The world is getting worse. Our bodies are our weapons, our last defence. We can do as much hashtag activism as we like, but, when push comes to shove, we need to be able to slug it out. Fascism is on the rise, once again, and it’s not going to go away if we tweet at it. We need to be strong enough, and foster solidarity with one another, such that we can push them back, and make this world, our world, worth living in, for everyone.

I work out so I can protect what matters to me – my friends, my family. I owe it to myself and I owe it to them. So do you.

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Posted on June 6, 2014, in Maunderings and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 3 Comments.

  1. Just to be clear, this isn’t me saying that men need to protect women, as if they aren’t capable of doing it themselves. Generally, the are. However, they aren’t the only ones that deserve to bear this burden. It belongs to all of us, whatever our sex.

  2. Jack Donovan said in his recent book that he trains for honor, to be less of an embarrassment to our barbarian forefathers. I agree and think that is a sufficient reason in itself.

    There’s also an aesthetic thing to it, not to be “good-looking,” but because the Left is usually stereotyped as fucking weak, and I’d rather project strength (at both the physical/character level) upon sight alone.

    • I dunno. I’m not really so beholden to a bunch of thousand-year-dead guys – couldn’t care less of what they might think of me, nor do I feel like I owe them anything. There lies the slope of chauvinism, methinks.

      Power projection, however, I understand and can get behind.

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