Finally lifting the weight of a sedentary lifestyle

I've been having trouble using my arms lately.

And that's a good thing.

They've been stiff because I started lifting weights about a month ago after years of living a largely sedentary lifestyle since moving to China in 2006.

My extreme lack of physical activity was in no small part because I aspired to develop as a metaphorical "athlete" in the fields in which I work, which often require hours hunched behind a screen.

That is, as a "bodybuilder", but the "muscle groups" are the skills, experience and CV development that typically didn't involve moving my actual body.

For instance, before setting off on a 35-day business trip through 11 cities, during which filming often lasted for around 14 or more hours a day, I prepared myself by regarding it as a "marathon".

My body began to conspicuously shrivel during the COVID-19 pandemic, during which time many people worldwide have been all the more beholden to our computers and phones.

I honestly didn't have time or energy during the epidemic's early period, when I was busier than ever with work and two kids stuck at home. I barely slept then.

Finally, I hit rock bottom in terms of physical atrophy.

So, I ordered weights from Taobao. And, so far, I've stuck with it, exercising four or five days a week.

I've already increased the number of reps I do from 75 to up to 250 per day and sometimes over 500 if I include exercises that don't use weights. I've also increased the heaviness of the barbells, dumbbells and kettle bell I use.

Much of the inspiration came from a recent Zoom chat with a childhood friend, who became a bodybuilder in prison and a trainer when he got out. He did his morning routine with Atlas stones while we chatted.

Years ago, Mike Dugger cut off his pinky in an intoxicated rage. He then began to sculpt his body to look like that of a Greek god.

He later told me he not only replaced his heroin addiction with a healthy addiction, but rather with an addiction to health itself. He works as a certified personal trainer, although the outbreak means local gyms remain closed.

Before his last prison stint－after which he absolutely turned his life around, largely through fitness－his addiction left him in a state where he didn't even brush his teeth. Today, he's not only functional but, rather, hyper-functional.

We've established an annual tradition for three years when I return to my hometown, in which Mike puts me on his back and squats me. Each time, he breaks the previous year's record.

Last year, he lifted me 50 times.

Since I can't travel to the United States this year, Mike may have to replace my body with equivalently heavy weights and we may have to do it over videoconference.

While I'm not trying to replace an addiction with exercise, I have increasingly found myself feeling a compulsive craving for the very discomfort－the proverbial "burn"－I'd spent over a decade making excuses to avoid.

These included everything from being too tired after working overtime and even sometimes believing I was honorably sacrificing my health to make greater advances in the fields I work in and to exceed in other responsibilities, such as parenting.

There may be some truth to these beyond mere justification for avoiding pain－albeit the kind of hurt that releases surges of dopamine, serotonin and other feel-good neurotransmitters.

But, ultimately, the greater truth was that I wasn't only weak physically but also in mental discipline, unless it had to do with work or duty to others.

Perhaps next time I see Mike, I'll also see how many times I can, in turn, squat him.