When most people think about strength, they think of bulging muscles and lifting heavy weights. But if you’ve ever lived with chronic pain—or coached people who do—you know strength looks very different from person to person, and sometimes even day to day.
For me, it’s never been just about how much I can lift. It’s about what I can do in that moment. Because I live with chronic pain. Headaches that never fully go away. A back that reminds me when I’ve overdone it. And a literal hole in my heart. Every workout is a choice. A risk. And a triumph.
But here’s the truth: lifting is a practice. Just like yoga, each day will look and feel different. And that’s OKAY.
Learning to Show Up Anyway
There were years—especially when I was younger—where I hated my body. Not just how it looked, but how it felt. I felt betrayed by it. I wanted to be strong, energetic, and pain-free like everyone else around me seemed to be. But no matter how hard I tried, my body always pushed back. I learned the hard way that pushing through pain didn’t make me stronger—it usually made things worse.
What did make me stronger was showing up consistently and listening. Some days, “showing up” means pulling back. Other days, it means leaning in and seeing what I’m capable of. Every session, I ask myself: What can I do today? And then I go do that, without shame or comparison.
It took time, but I’ve learned to see my body not as broken, but as resilient. Persistent. Adaptive. And honestly? Pretty dang tough.
Resilience Looks Like Starting Over (Again and Again)
One of the biggest life lessons the lifting has taught me is that resilience isn’t about never falling. It’s about getting back up again, as many times as it takes. I’ve had to modify my workouts more times than I can count. I’ve reset my goals. Rebuilt my strength. Re-learned my limits.
And every time I did, I got smarter. More patient. Kinder to myself.
That kind of resilience spills over into everything. It helps me navigate tough days outside the gym, not just inside it. When work is stressful, or life feels overwhelming, I know I’ve made it through hard things before. I’ve rebuilt before. I’ve adapted. I’ve kept going.
That’s real strength.
Lifting is About More Than Progress
Don’t get me wrong—progress is awesome. It feels good to add weight to the bar, to hit a new PR, to feel stronger in your body. But that’s not what keeps most of us going.
What keeps us going is what lifting teaches us along the way.
It teaches us patience. Because gains don’t happen overnight.
It teaches us humility. Because sometimes your body says, “Not today,” and you have to respect that.
It teaches us presence. Because lifting demands your focus. Your breath. Your attention.
It teaches us gratitude. For the days that feel good, and for the body that carries you through it all.
Each Day is Different—And That’s Enough
Some days, I feel like a beast. Other days, I feel like a rusty shopping cart. And the truth is, both versions of me are valid. Both are strong. Both are worthy.
Strength isn’t linear. It’s not a straight climb up the mountain. It’s a winding trail with dips, peaks, and plateaus. But every time you show up with intention and listen to your body, you’re building something more meaningful than muscle—you’re building trust in yourself.
So the next time you’re tempted to judge a session as “good” or “bad,” try this instead: ask yourself if you honored what you needed that day. Did you move? Did you breathe? Did you try?
That’s enough.
That’s more than enough.
Final Thoughts: What Are You Lifting?
At BadAsh Athletics, we see strength in all its forms. We coach people who are lifting more than just weights—they’re lifting grief, stress, pain, fear, and sometimes even their own doubts. And we meet them where they are. Every time.
Because lifting is a practice. Each day, it’s going to look different. And that’s not a flaw—it’s the point.
So here’s your reminder: You’re stronger than you think. Not because you can lift more than the person next to you—but because you keep showing up. You keep trying. You keep adjusting.
You’re lifting more than weights. And it matters.
