If you knew me then you would know I’m not the most active guy in the world, infact I would go out of my way to avoid unneccesary exercise. Unfortunately, this assumed predisposition and a whole host of other factors including depression and avoidance meant that within the space of a year I ballooned from about 80 kilos to 105 within the space of year. This left me with a huge number of stretch marks and a body I despised which, frustratingly, was coupled with a total lack of desire to lose this weight.
In the last month or so I have become motivated to lose this weight and to regain my fitness and as I have been thinking more about this I was reminded of some times I spent with friends a few years ago that have caused me to rethink my outlook on exercise and manhood.
I think this disposition against active exercise and my lack of strength/fitness has a lot to do with my experience early in life (maybe it’s biological, but I struggle with that opinion). I would always rather be reading a book or listening to music than out playing sport and this didn’t positively dispose the ‘jocks’ to me. Being heavily bullied as a kid and as a teenager I just locked myself away, content to play my bass guitar and immerse myself in literature. When I moved for the first time at 18 I was working as part of the worship team at an Anglican church and as part of my placement I was put into a house group. These guys were great fun, we would hang out, eat soup and crusty bread, chat about Jesus and generally have a good time. It’s also where I met Jon.
Jon was an older, single guy who love walking and power kiting. He managed to convince me to try power kiting with him so, with trepidation, I did. I loved it. I couldn’t explain it then but there was a freedom in the power of the wind, a focus on nature that I’d never had before. We did that a few times (I graduated up to the more powerful kites but never quite made it onto the mountain board!) until Jon suggested we go hiking in the Brecon Beacons in South Wales. I’d never really hiked before, sure I’d gone on walks with my parents and I’d climbed Snowdon a few times but nothing like this. He suggested we do three peaks, finishing with the highest one in the Southern Britain.He picked me up at about 0500 and off we went. I was incredibly nervous but also somewhat exhilarated. He’d prepared lunch but suggested I buy some Lucozade Energy and a Camelbak so I did. Borrowing some high quality hiking boots from one of my housemates we stood at the bottom of this peak in the middle of nowhere with nobody else around. It was dawn. It was cold. Jon looked at me, ‘Ready?’. We started walking.
As we walked, we talked. I can’t describe it but I felt real, I felt alive and it felt right. Oh don’t get me wrong I was aching and was sweating like mad but I had to keep going. I remember when we reached the top of Pen y Fan, Jon told me we were nearly 3000 ft above sea level. Okay, it isn’t exactly Everest (or even Ben Nevis…) but it was an achievement and I was proud.
Looking out over that incredible view my perspective on the outside world changed. No longer was it a demon waiting to attack me, it was beauty. 4.5 billion year old beauty. Nothing can remove that moment from me, but here’s the point. I felt like a man. Cheesy? Probably. Romantic? Maybe. Honest? Definitely. I had never felt more like a guy, and it was an incredible thing. The sense of adventure, the achievement and the solitude was something I needed more of.
I had one more experience like that before I altogether gave up and sank into self-pity. It was just a week after I’d found out that my girlfriend at the time had left me for a guy at her university and I was invited out by Jon for his birthday weekend camping. As we walked we reached a waterfall into which the people who wanted to could jump from. I’d never done anything like this. Jon was stood down at the bottom having already gone waiting for me to leap. I had pins and needles, this was at least 25 ft and I had no idea where I was going to end up. As I leapt, I yelled. I just screamed at the top of my lungs. I wasn’t falling for nearly as long as I thought I would have been but when I plunged into that freezing, moving water I was underneath for what seemed like an age. The silence, the motion, the raw power I felt from the water crashing down. Then the noise, the roar as I broke the surface of the water. Okay, I make it sound far more epic than it probably was but I hope you see how I saw it.
The truth is, the part of me that I have so often sought to diminish emerged over those 6 or so months when I was hanging out with Jon. I was free. I was playing my bass, gigging, power kiting, hiking and jumping off waterfalls. So why is this a confession?
I no longer seek to diminish this aspect of me. I’m going to lose this weight, I’m going to get fit and when I relocate to Chesterfield some time in the next few months I am going to make the best use of the Peak District as I can. I need to re-engage with this side of my masculinity to bring about the best for me and the people around me. I need to leap off waterfalls. I need to clamber up peaks in the rain. I need to reach the heights that I have and continue on to higher places.
I need to be free.
Ben.
P.S. You will note that this blog is no longer anonymous. I can’t be bothered to keep it that way, so feel free to follow my personal Twitter account. It’ll be great to see you!
@BenMartinBass
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Confessions of a Skeptical Evangelical 