Weightlifting isn't about muscles, pt 1: healing chronic pain

When I was young I thought weightlifting was about the muscles. After weightlifting for some years, golly jeepers was I missing the point.

I've been lifting weights regularly for about 7 years now.

No, I don't look like Dwayne Johnson or Dolph Lundgren. No, I can't carry a 100-pound slab of plexiglass through gale-force winds like Ted van der Parre. No, I don't have veins coming out of my other veins like Evil Ryu. If you saw me on the street, you'd barely notice.

I started weightlifting for a lot of reasons, "the muscles" admittedly among them. Little did I know how trivial "the muscles" would become compared to the fountain of other life benefits lifting has given me.

I'm writing this for two reasons. One, I'm often struck by some new realization of how weightlifting has made my life better. I've developed a deep gratitude for the practice and I want to share that with you. Two, I want to share this for you who are thinking about lifting but are worried you'll turn into a big, bulbous mess. Know that weightlifting isn't about the muscles; it provides so many other gifts. [1]

I'm calling this part 1 in a series of unknown quantity because new realizations keep coming, and it's high time I put these on paper.

As someone who has battled chronic pain, I'll begin with the most important benefit weightlifting has given me: a huge decrease in my everyday pain.

Weightlifting has greatly reduced my chronic pain.

I've experienced chronic pain most of my life. That's because I've had horrible biomechanics and movement habits most of my life. Only I didn't know this until I started weightlifting. Then I fixed it by weightlifting. We'll get to that.

What bad habits led to my chronic pain? The usual suspects: slouching too much, poor posture, chronic forward neck position, yada yada. Everyone knows about those. But, ever the completionist, I have hoarded many other, more obscure physical maladies. My legs are different sizes; this throws my hips out of alignment, which throws my shoulders off, which kinks my neck in a rough way. I've battled lordosis of the spine. I've had Osgood-Schlatter since I was twelve, meaning I'll have a bum knee till I meet my maker. Flat feet, knock knees, now I know my ABCs. You name an ailment, I've probably dabbled.

Here's the rub: all these little misalignments send cascades of pain and inflammation up the rest of my body. It's a hot mess. [2] Each one causes another one to form downstream to compensate for the last one. And on it goes, up the chain. Like the debtor who frivolously pays their last credit card by opening a new one, pain debt builds as it travels up my kinetic chain. The buck stops at my poor neck and head; they have withstood pains well beyond their years.

Speaking of, I have to mention the migraines. Ohh, those migraines. The Day Erasers. The ones that leave you catatonic, horizontal, somewhere - anywhere. Praying for tomorrow to be here already. Anything but the pulsating agony of the here and now. You'd gird yourself into a fetal position if you but had the strength. Oh, those migraines.

Here's a memory that puts a fine button on it. It's about nine years ago. I'm at work with my friend and colleague Marissa. Noticing I'd been having a rough day physically, she thoughtfully asks me, "How are you holding up? Are you in pain?" And before my brain can think, my mouth blurts, "I am, but what's the difference when you're always in pain?"

How horribly sad that is. To think of the toll that pain took on my life. You don't have to be a chronic pain sufferer to understand the draining effect it has on life. It's harder to focus. You can't sit or stand still for long or the pain will worsen. You can't escape it. Imagine if someone followed you around for a whole day, painfully squeezing the back of your neck. Now imagine living almost every waking moment of your like this. Sobering stuff, no?

So you try every little hack: the constant breath exercises (box breathing, alternate nostril breathing, 4-7-8 breath, alkaline breathing, you name it); the Feldenkrais method; the Alexander technique; the sit-stand desk to make the pain retreat ever so briefly; the constant foam rolling; sitting on a wobble cushion; sitting on a Swiss ball; standing on a wobble board to try to improve balance; planking on the office floor to improve core strength because you read that would help. [3] Anything for some relief. Anything.

It all helped, but only briefly and only a little. All these treatments proved Lilliputians to the gargantuan Gulliver of my wicked suite of physical ailments. I'd need something else - something bigger and badder. Something that could address the core of the problem.

I will forever be grateful I found the answer in weightlifting. The depth of the pain and frustration I'd felt for decades is now the depth of my appreciation for the cure weightlifting has given me. I'm not 100% pain-free today, but I am a good 90% better than before. And words couldn't begin to convey the positive effect that has had on my life.

Weightlifting gave me so much life back. It helped me fix the movement patterns that sapped my energy, saddled me with chronic inflammation, and drained so much of my ability to enjoy life. Now I have solidity where I had tenuousness; lightness where I had burden; connection where I had isolation.

This still leaves the question: how, exactly, does it do all that?

Weightlifting is a forcing function for moving correctly.

Weightlifting forces me to move in a healthy, sustainable way.

Weightlifting regularly puts me in a position where if I do not perform a physical movement correctly, I will injure myself.

"So let me get this straight," you'd be forgiven for wondering, "weightlifting is good because it might injure you?"

If that sounds a little harsh, here's why it works for me: If I were to injure myself, I would not be able to take care of my family. This is a plainly unacceptable outcome to me. My kids need me. I don't mind messing myself up all I want, but I will not fail them. Which means that in addition to lifting within my abilities, I am going to give everything I have to making sure I perform these movements under load correctly. This means every time I begin a lift, weightlifting shakes me out of the decades of unhealthy movement patterns I've built, gives me a "wake up" slap in the face and demands, "right here, right now, you will perform this motion correctly so we can go home, enjoy a nice protein shake, have fun with the kids and be ready for night-night storytime. No other option will be permitted."

There is no greater motivator than this. I use it to my full advantage. Weightlifting forces me to learn how to move correctly.

Learning how to load my body correctly made me realize how poorly I had been carrying my weight around. It made me realize how and why I had been putting so much extra stress on my body. How I was relying too much on some muscles and not enough on others, causing serious pain in the overworked muscles while atrophying the underworked muscles. After learning proper movement techniques, things started to make sense! I had found not only the causes of the pain, but the remedies too! I had a clear view of what was wrong, and a clear instruction book on how to fix it. When you have that, you have real hope.

Weightlifting is all signal, no noise.

Weightlifting is also a superb diagnostic and learning tool because it gives you instant honest feedback. It is brutally honest, it never lies, and it delivers the facts to you instantly. This helps you learn faster and perform better.

If I can't perform a movement well, I'll know it immediately because I'll feel it in my body and notice my form failing. This knowing gets me halfway to fixing it, the way accepting you have a problem is the first step to resolving it. With this instant feedback, I can analyze what's going wrong and develop a roadmap to fix it, so I can ultimately perform the movement correctly.

For example: deep squats. When I first started, I couldn't do one to save my life. My toes would point awkwardly. My knees would wobble all over. My back would lurch out of alignment. My knees would hurt before I got halfway down. (Turns out this isn't the right way to do them.) Over time, little by little, I learned to strengthen all the parts that allow someone to do a deep squat: the core, the glutes, the quads, the hammies, the hip adductors, the ankles, heck, even my toes! [4] I've learned how to properly squat, keeping my knees out, heels down, glutes braced, core strong. I've practiced, practiced, practiced. My deep squat still won't win me a competition, but I can do it now. What's more, I can do it without pain! That fact alone feels like winning the lottery.

A warning: you should know it isn't easy.

Yes, I've learned a lot in my weightlifting journey. But it wasn't easy. I've dedicated many nights and weekends to studying how to correctly perform each move in order to minimize risk and maximize activation of the appropriate muscles in the body. There is a lot to think about. There is a lot to learn. There is a lot to practice. You might not be battling decades of conditioned motion habits like I am, but you've still got to learn the right ways to perform every move you do.

When you begin weightlifting, you'll hear the phrase "mind to muscle connection" a lot. I had a terrible feel for this at first. If you're like me, you will have to build this up, slowly but surely. Then there are the "cues" you'll learn for each exercise, which are little reminders that help you perform the move correctly. [5] Some will work for you and some won't. You'll need to search around to find ones that "click" for you.

Then there are the notes on form. When you're doing this simply for health like I am, form is everything and the only thing. Numbers don't matter if your form is compromised. I repeat: form is the only thing that matters. Again, we're not trying to turn into Lou Ferrigno out here. We're just trying to be healthy. Form is the alpha and omega for healthy lifting and healthy living. It takes study to get form right.

So you'll need to do lots of homework. Thankfully, all the answers are easily accessible. For every weightlifting exercise ever, there are reams of instructional books, diagrams, videos and tutorials about how to do it safely and effectively. Whatever your preferred method of learning, there's more out there than you can consume in three lifetimes.

It can feel daunting at times. It won't be easy. It won't be fast. But it is never too late. And you will have a clear path to your goal. The only limit will be your appetite to do the learning and practicing. If you can do that, you will get there.

Weightlifting has fundamentally changed my life.

Thanks to weightlifting, I live every day of my life with less pain.

If you haven't experienced chronic pain, it can be difficult to convey how much this absence of pain improves your life. Living with constant pain drains your energy. It impairs your ability to focus. It makes you depressed. There is no escaping it. It sucks unspeakably. Words could not do it justice.

Free from this pain, I am more spontaneous, creative and confident. I have more space for love and connection with my kids, my spouse and my family. These are all life changers. But there's something more.

I have an obstinate joy now. The kind of stupid, unsinkable joy you can only have if you've experienced something terribly challenging for a long time and made it through. You have a renewed appreciation for everything. The sweetness of the sunlight warms you more deeply. The susurrous breeze that tickles the trees sends embers of joy alighting through your heart. You realize the caves the pain carved into your spirit have evolved into spacious basins of joy and light.

Now you can just sit somewhere and enjoy it. Now you can just be. Now you can be without pain.

Weightlifting has made that possible for me.

What a gift.

Footnotes

[1] Plus, it's unlikely you'll accidentally get bigger than you want to. It takes a lot of hard work, nutrition, and strategic planning. And if you ever start getting bigger than you want to, you can always just cut down. You'll be okay, I promise.

[2] Remember the hapless Articles of Confederation from the late 18th century? And how everything fell apart because they lacked a strong central core around which the parts could organize? Yea, my body's like that. (And if that analogy was too nerdy for you, learn yerself some history, ye blimey rapscallion!)

[3] Yes, if you happened by my desk on a random Tuesday, you might find me horizontal, face in the floor, body splayed parallel to the floor like I was getting arrested or something. I appreciate your concern but I'm just planking, Janet. Please resume onto the elevator knowing I am okay.)

[4] Not kidding. It's good to train your toes - to practice separating them, splaying them out, giving them some flexion and extension reps. They are the foundation of your bodily movement machine, after all!

[5] Some example cues: "try to bend/break the bar" for bench pressing, and "lead with your butt" for squats.