Art Heals: Weights

Many years ago I used to be a gym rat.   Well, OK, a gym mouse.  A back injury forced me to find a trainer, and I spent a couple of years doing what the body-building world calls “lifting.”  (As opposed to “hoisting,” which is done with vessels of liquids and is way more fun.)  Squats, deadlifts, cleans, bench presses, pull-ups, I learned it all and did it all, more or less.  As I progressed, my trainer would gradually increase the weights, and the repetitions.  Needless to say, this progression was marked by grunts, complaints, pleading, outrage (all me, not the trainer, a pro who had heard it all before).  But despite the torment and the indignity (my form was execrable and I really, really hated what sweat did to my hair) I persevered, knowing that this was the only way I was going to be able to stand up straight without pain in the future.  And, not surprisingly, it worked.  But surprisingly, while I never came to like it, I did feel a certain pride of accomplishment in my ability to lift those **** weights; 2 lbs., 5 lbs., 10, 15, 20, 25….  Ultimately, I bench-pressed 75 lbs., more than half my weight.                    For me, an Olympic gold. 
Then we moved away, and I started working full time, and lifting weights became a thing I used to do.
Yesterday a colleague drove by to drop off a few more things I had left behind in my hurried decampment from my office. 

Among them was a pair of 5 lb. weights.
We are all lifting weights now, mostly far above our weight class.   The weight of anxiety, of exhaustion, of feeling inadequate to the ceaseless daily tasks.  The weight of the sadness of the world,  the weight of knowing that ultimately, whatever changes this pandemic will bring into our lives, we won’t like them, but they will be real, and we will have to carry them into the future. 
Yesterday I lifted those 5 lb. weights for the first time in years.  My form was execrable, 10 reps in my triceps hurt, and I had to wash my hair right afterwards.  5 lbs.  But it’s a start.
The weights in our world don’t get lighter, but we get stronger.  We can lift them, and we will.
I am a fan of graffiti.  Here is some from an anonymous tagger in DC.  Art Heals.