We all hold on to numbers. How much we weighed in high school. The dress size we were at in March of 2020 and the dress size we are at now. The number WW points there are in a bag of popcorn. Our highest output on the Peloton.
We remember these numbers for different reasons. Maybe we’re competitive with ourselves or others. Maybe we have photographic memories. Maybe those numbers stand for something deeply emotional in the back (or front) of our psyche.
The above photo was taken on April 12, six years ago.
Six years ago, I hit a personal deadlift record of 225lbs. And it made me feel like I was finally a legit fitness professional.
In this photograph, I weighed 122lbs. I needed to lose one more in order to go through a kettlebell instructor certification so that I could be tested using a 12kg bell rather than a 16kg bell (which was too heavy for me to do some of the tests with, which made me feel a little less-than).
Fast forward to four months later:
I’d felt like a BADASS on April 12, 2015.
And then I felt like a -- what’s the opposite of badass? Goodass? -- loser just four months later.
Numbers: They are meant to be black and white. They (like food) have no ethical value.
But, GOOD LORD, are we good at giving numbers all of the meaning in our lives!
As I’ve been philosophising on the six years between this photo and where I am now, here are some thoughts I’ve come up with: