Signal Lost, Self Found
A friend recently asked me to explain why the gym seems so important to me. She sensed there was something reverent in the way I spoke about it—like it held a meaning beyond just fitness. This is my answer.
**As either a prologue or an epilogue to this, you might find it helpful to read my piece titled An Arms Race for Mental Space.
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The tether begins to loosen as I ascend the steps into my sanctuary, locking my algorithm god into its timeout box. Sliding noise canceling headphones onto my head eliminates the torrential audio stream of life pouring into my canals. It’s quiet. Instinctively, my body unlocks the deepest inhalation of the day. My brain releases serotonin, gently signaling my muscles that it's now safe to loosen their grip on the guardrails they’ve grown so accustomed to clinging to. Life’s neon sign hums somewhere behind me as I turn the first corner of the indoor track—its buzz already beginning to fade.
The music on my playlist is chosen with care as an anthem for my intentions. No genre is off limits so long as the artist has "soul" in their voice and intention in their own words.
As I step onto the training floor, I look at myself in the mirror not out of vanity, but with purpose. My reflection is a visual reminder of the belief I’ve built in myself—a belief forged in the effort to overcome life’s darkest moments. The physical transformation my body has demonstrated over the years is secondary to what I’m really seeing when I meet my own gaze. It’s the discipline, the resilience, the commitment to accountability—an effort to extend the strength of my body and mind so I can protect and provide for my two daughters for as long as I exist within this realm.
I’ve come to know many of the people here—not through conversation, but through silent recognition. We nod, we lift, we exist together in this unspoken agreement of mutual respect. In a culture conditioned to fracture us, the gym gives us a rare sense of community and a reminder of the value in seeing the good in people as a default, instead of searching for their flaws. We’re not just training for ourselves—we’re showing up for one another. We see beauty in each other within the confines of a space free from the motives of society’s greed and gluttony—a space to simply exist together, in peace and without judgment.
Laying back on the bench, I listen—to the quiet alignment of muscle, joint, and breath. I visualize movement before it begins, rehearsing the form in my mind like choreography. Then, the lift: every part of me working in fluid unison. There’s something almost hypnotic in feeling my muscles contract—the rhythm of blood pushing through veins, delivering oxygen like fuel.
In the end, this place is more than a gym. It’s a snapshot of what we’re capable of when we choose to show up—for ourselves and for each other. A reminder that in a world wired for constant noise and distraction, there is still value in the pause. In the breath. In the choice to disconnect and listen inward. This is where movement becomes meditation, and effort becomes clarity. A space where the mind and body return to center—again and again.
