About four years ago, when I was just starting to build a serious physique presence online, I had a moment of vanity I would now like to share with you, in the spirit of accountability and also because it is genuinely funny in retrospect.
I was at a popular gym in DC. The kind of gym where people film themselves. I had been training for years already, was in good shape, and had quietly started to enjoy the idea that strangers might notice. This is the first lie a brand can tell you about yourself, and I had bought it.
I decided to do a heavy deadlift set. Not because the program called for it. Because the program was being recorded by an internal narrator who was directing the day's content. The internal narrator wanted a heroic deadlift. The internal narrator did not consult my actual body about whether the internal narrator's vision was realistic.
I loaded up. Setup time. Hands chalked. Belt cinched. I bent down to grip the bar. I could not find the bar.
Stay with me.
For a brief moment that felt much longer, I was a blind man squatting over a barbell I could not locate, in front of approximately thirty people who had not been informed of my predicament because I had not asked anyone for help because I was busy being heroic. The bar had drifted maybe four inches forward of where I expected it. I had no graceful way to find it without breaking the heroic stance I had been working on.
I shuffled forward slightly. Found the bar with my fingertips. Set my grip. Pulled.
The pull was fine. The setup was an exquisite, ten-second masterpiece of mistaken self-importance, performed for an audience that, in fairness, was probably looking at their phones.
I racked the weight. I sat on a bench. I had what I can only describe as a brief but instructive conversation with myself about why I had let a narrator I do not pay take over my training.
What I took from it
I now ask for help when I need it. The setup conversation with whoever's spotting me — hey, can you tell me where the bar is sitting in relation to the rack? — adds about four seconds to my session and removes the entire possibility of repeating that day's performance.
I also stopped performing for the imaginary camera. The internal narrator who was directing my training was a worse coach than any coach I have ever had. I retired him. The training got better immediately.
If you find yourself making decisions in the gym that are partly about how the decision will look to a hypothetical audience, you have the same narrator in your head. He is not on your payroll. He is not helping you. Fire him.
Then ask for help with whatever specific, mundane thing you actually need help with. The gym is full of people who would happily tell you whether the bar is centered. They are mostly waiting for someone to ask. The asking is free. The performing is expensive.
