Sermon in the Squat

Every Monday, I face with dread the bane of any weight-trainer's existence: Leg Day. Training legs flat-out sucks. Any serious lifter knows that a good leg day centers on the squat, and that you have to go heavy with it. It's the move I love to hate.

So I'm crawling back to my truck after a grueling workout, and I'm thanking God for my survival (actually for a body that works and can do this sort of thing), and I start to see a lesson in it all.

Each week on the Lord's Day, I'm reminded that we have been redeemed to our father Adam's first estate and task. Every day after, I'm reminded that we ain't there yet. We still are to subdue the Earth, but it's going to keep fighting us until the Kingdom has leavened the world "as far as the curse is found."

So, Sunday: "All authority in Heaven and on Earth is Mine, therefore go."
Monday: "...and it won't be easy. Now shut up and squat."

Oh, Yeah, That's What It Feels Like.

I'm about 6 weeks or so into getting serious about the gym again. I love weight training. I think it is so good for the soul it's ridiculous. What other activity has failure as its goal?

So I'm lifting heavy, eating every two to three hours, consuming mass quantities of protein, drowning myself with all the water I'm drinking, and hitting the hated cardio for an hour or so a day.

I feel incredible. I'm seeing results far faster than I did in my gym rat 20's. Everytime I do this I wonder why I ever let myself go. It's odd how insidious slipping out of shape is. An extra dessert, a trip to Whataburger, a missed workout...it isn't until you look back on it all that you realize, "Wow, I was fat and lazy, and I felt like crap all the time."

I always intend to make fitness a lifestyle for me and my family. It feels like I'm really getting there this time. I'm very encouraged.