This morning’s workout was brutal. The kind of brutal I crave. My alarm went off before the sun came up, and by the time I hit the gym, it was just me and the sound of weights clanging against the racks. There’s nothing like that first heavy pull of a deadlift—feeling every muscle in your body lock in, every tendon screaming for you to stop, and then pushing through anyway.

By the end of the session, I was drenched, shaking, and grinning like an idiot. There’s something primal about it, about knowing you’ve left everything on the floor. My legs felt like jelly, my arms like steel. And looking in the mirror afterward? I’ll admit it—I loved what I saw. The power. The size. That split second where you can see the pump in every line of muscle, like proof of the work you’ve just done.

I live for that.

And yet, I keep finding myself coming back to what I’ve been writing about these past few weeks. This idea that strength isn’t just about pushing through pain, about looking like the strongest guy in the room.

This morning, as I was walking home, sweat freezing to my skin, I started to wonder: where does this fit with what I’m trying to figure out about myself? How can I love this so much—love the way I look, the way I feel—and still want to move beyond it?

I think about the picture Jeff posted last week. That goofy “hulk smash” pose. I hated it at first because I felt like it didn’t show all of me. But maybe it showed too much. Maybe it showed exactly what I’m afraid of being—a guy who’s only muscle, who’s all surface and nothing underneath.

And that’s where it gets messy, because I don’t want to let this go. This thing I’ve built—this body, this strength—means something to me. It’s not just about how I look. It’s about the work, the discipline, the sense of control I feel when the rest of my life feels like chaos.

But then I hear this other voice in my head, asking: is that enough? Or am I holding onto this image because I’m scared to figure out who I am without it?

I don’t know.

For now, all I can do is keep showing up—at the gym, at this blog, at this work I’m trying to do on myself. I don’t have the answers yet. I’m not even sure I’m asking the right questions.

But maybe that’s okay.

~ Matthew 🌳