Who’s Body is This?

Hello everybody! We’re back with “season two” of the blog, featuring 50% more metaphysics! Apologies for the hiatus on posting articles, I’ve been having a bit of a hard time getting words to paper. But I’m told the best way to write is to…write, so I’m back at it.  We’ll be posting a couple of articles a month again, covering anything and everything that could be useful or interesting. Today’s article is something that preoccupies a decent amount of my attention, hope you find it interesting. If you have any comments feel free to reach out to us! Anyways, here it is. 

Who’s Body is This? 

We spend a lot of our time framing our training as a battle against the body, we are attempting to shape it and change it according to our whims. The body is the opponent. But is it really our body that needs overcoming? I believe that the sensation of living in one’s head, and operating the controls of the machine we call the body isn’t an accurate reflection of reality. The body and the mind are intertwined, you don’t operate your body, you are your body. I find it hard to rationalize any sort of true dualism, the mind and the body may feel disconnected, but there is nothing to say that this feeling is anything but subjective. I find this idea interesting for a couple of reasons. First, I find it fascinating that my first person experience doesn’t seem to have a rational explanation. Is it possible to find a feeling of unity between the mind and body? I don’t have any sort of answer here, but it’s interesting to think about. Second,  it helps me in training to remember that I’m not fighting against my body, but that I am it, and it is capable of expressing my will. In this way I find myself finding more comfort and confidence in the positions required to lift, and really connecting to the experience of movement. In some ways you can think of training as integrating the movement into yourself, and becoming an expression of the ideal snatch. Knowing you have control can help with mental preparation and even allow you to relax into positions during mobility work and training. 

There are several situations in which this distinction between self and body are broken down, one of which being a flow state. There are times when you are training or doing any sort of activity that is all encompassing that you can start to approach what feels like a pure experience of the moment, all attention is directed towards a task, and it is not divided. In these moments one can catch glimpses that it is not a mind controlling a body but an integrated system capable of single focus and pure experience and enjoyment. I think these states are what people find so fulfilling about physical training, it allows for a quieting of the illusion of the self and brings you back into being a part of the world, rather than something separate from it. Learning to connect and experience your body as you rather than something you own can be rather meditative. For instance often I’ll take walks and try to solely focus on the sensations of walking. Can I feel the action of my calves, quads, hamstrings? When the sensation is the sole focus I can often feel more connected to the world and have an easier time quieting rapid fire anxious thoughts. 

I had an odd experience this week. For the first few days of this week nothing felt quite right, the only way I can describe it is that it felt like my body had turned off. Weights that were light a few days before felt heavy, I was sore in areas I hadn’t been, and was having trouble sleeping. Two days of this and workouts where I failed to achieve any close to ideal positions I was gifted my first migraine headache and had a fun morning trying not to vomit. All morning post migraine I felt at war with myself, even a heels elevated squat felt grueling, and I couldn’t maintain any sort of core tension. I decided to give warming up a go and spent a good amount of time doing some breath work (90/90 supine breathing) and over the course of 20 minutes, I felt good enough to take the bar. The first few sets were difficult but as I progressed I started to fall into a groove, I was waking up. I went on to hit some PR’s in the session and moved the weights better than I ever have. I was shocked the rest of the day that it felt like I had an entirely different body than six hours beforehand. Nothing had changed physically, bodies do change but not over the course of hours, all that had changed was me reintegrating and becoming all of myself through connecting physically. So much of what we perceive about the ready state of the body is actually under our control, integrate yourself and you’ll unlock better performance and peace of mind. You are your body, act accordingly.   

“ ‘Body am I, And Soul’ – so saith the child. And why should one not speak like children? But the awakened one, the knowing one, saith: ‘Body am I entirely, and nothing more; and soul is only the name of something in the body.’ ” – Frendrich Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra  

Weightlifting for youths and those who play other sports | What it means to give your best

We cover some topics about Weightlifting and why youths should participate in it as well as how Weightlifting can benefit those who play other sports. Philosophy Corner: We talk about what it means to give your best and how that can be a better measure of success than results oriented outlooks.

The Last Snatch

I sit there with my eyes closed and I can’t hear anything, it’s like I’ve gone temporarily deaf. I can still feel though, and when I reopen my eyes the movement around me is just a blur of figures moving back and forth, and all I feel is the coldness of the chair against my back and glutes. I’ve done all my warmup attempts and I’ve missed my opener twice, this is my last chance, I’m not thinking about it, but I know it. My body is warm, and nothing hurts, so that’s a plus, but I need this last lift to make a total. Coach says something to me, and it sounds like a mumble, all I know is I’m up to lift. I stand up, the clock hasn’t started yet because the loaders are putting the final touches on the barbell for my last Snatch attempt. Then my hearing comes back like the crack of breaking branch in a still forest, my name is called along with the weight that’s waiting for me on the barbell. 

I pass through the dark heavy curtains that separate the stage from the back and the brightness of the light is nearly blinding. An ocean of faces watching as I approach the steps to the stage and the platform, and my heart quickens its pace just a little bit. I take the executioners steps up to the platform and make a pit stop at the chalk saucer, bathing my hands in the powdery white substance I trust to help keep my grip on the bar. I look at the barbell as I set the grip enhancing block of dust back in its resting place and I think to myself “It’s just me and you.” My body turns to face the platform and I take a few steps and stop directly behind the platform and line myself up with the barbell, I take a deep breath and step onto the planks of solid wood that make up the square of space I have to perform my lift on. 

Light shines brightly on the space I am occupying, and even though I know the crowd and center judge are in front of me, I can only see the edges and outlines of them. I step up to the barbell and I look above the crowd, searching for a spot to fix my gaze once I have the barbell overhead, then I return my eyes to the bar. I line up my feet with a measured, practiced, distance from the bar, then I reach down and put my right hand on the knurling just outside the ring, then the same with the left. I feel the chalk and the metal fasten to each other like a quick drying glue as I synch my thumb around the bar with my middle and pointer fingers. I sit in a squat with my chest and eyes up looking again for the spot I chose earlier. I raise myself up and bring my hips high into the air, but my chest is dropped so I can lean over and take one last large breath before I go. In this moment, there is nothing, only silence. 

No fear, no joy, no doubt, no worry, only bottled aggression and the tingle of nervous energy coursing through my body. “I got this.” I take a final slow breath into my belly, then up into my lungs, then hold it against my abs like a self-inflicted bear hug. I lower my hips and flex my back as I quickly set my start position to take out any slack and then I push against the floor with my both my feet. The bar leaves its resting place and picks up speed as it orbits my body like a rocket ship about to slingshot using a planet’s gravity. No thoughts enter or exit, only action, the action of a movement performed hundreds of times. I’m pushing as hard as I can against the floor like an inverted leg press and as my legs reach the fullness of their length, I begin to use my arms to propel myself back to the ground as the bar continues its upward motion.

CRACK! My feet connect with the platform as I press with all my might against gravity and the falling weight. I’ve pulled myself into the full depth of my squat with the weight locked out overhead, my eyes fixed on the spot I found earlier. No time passes between the bottom and starting to stand as I trust my legs to drive the weight and my body away from the floor. As I stand to my full height, a sense of relief begins to wash over me like a warm ocean wave. I wait for just a second until I see the blinding little down signal displays and the weight of the world comes falling down as I guide the barbell down from its overhead flight. The journey of the weight ends with a concussive thud and the barbell rolls to a stop. I turn and wait for the decision of the judges, 3 white lights as I step down and off the stage…

…I open my eyes, and I hear my name being called to take my final attempt to make a total, my last Snatch. “I got this.”