I’m infatuated with storytelling.
Whether it’s in-person, in a book, in a movie theater, on YouTube, I just love a great story that is well told.
I have no idea how many Instagram posts I’ve randomly sent Kyle with the message “Great storytelling!” but it’s got to be hundreds.
Being able to write and tell a great story is a superpower and I’ve learned through the years that no one does it better than Irish people. Perhaps it’s their culture or the accent or just some sort of shared experience that runs through their blood. But it’s hard to match the eloquence, the delivery and the passion of a good Irish story teller.
There’s even a Gaelic word for it - seanchai - the traditional keepers of Ireland’s rich oral history, traditions and folklore.
We have something similar in fitness. We call them the “bro”.
The bro is responsible for keeping fitness myths, folklore and history alive. He will tell you that in order to maximize gains, your workouts must make you as sore as possible. That if you eat carbs after dark that they will turn directly into fat.
He will tell you about how he used to rep out 315 on the bench when he was in high school. He will tell you that the only way to a woman’s heart is to increase your pec size and squat numbers.
It’s easy to dismiss bros, but we need them. The day everyone becomes a science-based lifter and stops ending their workouts with sets of “21s” for biceps is the day we truly lose a part of our beloved barbell culture.
And though no one wants to admit it, much of the evidence-based strength training gospel we accept today started with a few meatheads experimenting with new ideas in the gym.
But, alas, the goal of this post is not to deify nor vilify the precious gym bro.
Instead I’d like to deftly pivot to the often counterproductive stories that we tell ourselves when it comes to our fitness journey.
People tend to cover a wide spectrum when it comes to the narratives they tell themselves regarding their gym progress.
Most people don't fall into one camp or the other. They fall somewhere between self-deception and self-condemnation.
On one side, we have those that are just completely fooling themselves. I think the kids these days refer to this as “coping” (as if that is some sort of new term).
Copers will give themselves every benefit of the doubt. Sure, they were supposed to get to the gym three times this week but they got busy at work so once this week it is. And, next week isn’t looking great either.
They know they are supposed to track their foods, but they pretty much eat the same thing all the time so it doesn’t really matter.
And they are definitely setting an alarm so they are sure to get to bed at 10:30 but maybe they just stay up for “15 more minutes” to binge watch the latest season of “The Bear”.
The danger here isn’t the lack of perfect execution. It’s that these people convince themselves that they are definitely getting it right 90% of the time when, in reality, it’s 40%.
And then, when things don’t work out, they blame the gym or their nutrition coach or their genetics.
“Going to the gym and eating protein just doesn’t work for me,” they say when, in reality, to paraphrase the great Taylor Swift, It’s you. Hi. You’re the problem, it’s you.
On the other, equally dangerous side of the spectrum are those of us who beat ourselves up for every deviation from the plan, every ounce of extra body fat or stretch mark they see in the mirror and every missed goal pace on their long run.
This level of self-imposed perfection is not only terrible for mental health, it robs of the joy of what you are capable of and, in almost every circumstance, how incredible you already look.
Listen, I get it. Progress is addictive and many high achievers have a picture in their mind of what they should be able to accomplish. And that is wonderful. Hold onto that. Work towards it.
But beating yourself up for a missed bench press rep or appearance of cellulite if you turn your body at just the right angle isn’t doing yourself any favors.
And I know you know this already. But I also know you let these thoughts creep in a lot more often than you might be willing to admit.
Which brings me back to storytelling. One of my favorite Irish storytellers passed away this week in a tragic motorcycle accident.
He was a singer-songwriter named Glen Hansard who rose to some prominence for his starring role in the independent movie “Once” for which he also won the Academy Award for Best Original Song.
In seeing Hansard perform live or in that movie or just in random YouTube clips the thing that always struck me was how he seemed to put his all into every song, every performance. Like he was just discovering it for the first time.
And equal to his ability to bring such passion to his performance was his ability to write in a way that just cut right into your soul.
In the song, Falling Slowly, for which he won that Oscar, he writes “you have suffered enough, and warred with yourself, it’s time that you won”.
And, in his honor, I hope those words resonate with you aforementioned overachievers.
I know this sounds like pop-psychology bullshit, but, in this case, it rings true. The stories you tell yourself will absolutely determine your actions, your outcomes and how you feel about yourself.
Tell yourself the truth.
Not the comforting story.
Not the cruel story.
Just the true one.