As I attempt to articulate exactly what attracts me to bodybuilding, I stumble over explaining this desire. There are so many notions that resonate true, but can’t be substantiated. For me, there is a poetic muse in a muscular physique. But it rambles in half sentences, breaths from a magic garden I can see only in glimpses. I long thought it called me to only admire it. Now I hear it clearly. It summons me to be it. Complying, my full self is revealed.
I’ve long been entranced by beauty. It’s a refuge from mortality, something higher than common. It is meaningless and fulfilling at the same time. Beauty has no function, yet it takes our breath away and moves us. It is a fleeting vapor, so worthy of the chase.
This occupation is other to ordinary. Rules apply that have no place in everyday life. I struggle to validate…
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