The clash of iron resonates in the room, echoing like a call to battle. Sweat drips down my face, adrenaline pulses through my veins, and the caffeine buzzes in my ears as if amplifying the tension in the air. My heart is pounding, veins bulging, muscles tensed in anticipation of the lift ahead. An old, weathered belt digs into my waist—its faded material, a testament to countless battles fought before. I take one deep breath, bracing myself as the weight of the world bears down on me. This is a fight against iron and gravity, both conspiring to see me fail, to see me crushed beneath the weight. But I push, drawing on every ounce of strength, every muscle in my body igniting with power. Slowly, I rise. Against all odds, I rise.

 
The squat—a movement that is as simple as it is profound. It wasn’t always my favorite, in fact, I used to hate it. Before I ever squatted, I avoided it entirely. It was uncomfortable, difficult, and it forced me to confront my own weakness. But the squat didn’t make me feel weak—I was weak. And that’s what I didn’t want to face. For years, I avoided the squat because I didn’t know how to do it properly. It wasn’t until I made the decision to become better at squatting that I realized something deeper: I was becoming better as a person.

Now, I know this might sound dramatic. You might be thinking, “How can squatting make you a better person? It’s just lifting weights.” But lifting weights is never just lifting weights. Anyone who’s been under the bar long enough understands this. Lifting is learning to pick yourself up. It’s about discipline, character, and determination. Motivation will get you started, but it won’t get you through the days when everything feels like a burden, when Netflix is calling your name, and comfort tempts you. On those days, it’s your willpower that determines whether you progress or give in. How bad do you want to improve? How bad do you want to be better?

The squat is a perfect metaphor for life. When life becomes heavy, when the weight of the world is on your shoulders, it will bring you down. But it’s that same weight that forces you to rise. When you’re squatting, with hundreds of pounds on your back, you either lift yourself up, or you don’t. The squat isn’t just a test of physical strength; it’s a test of mental fortitude. People often look at lifting weights as a simple, straightforward task. But what separates the average from the exceptional is the realization that you’re not just training your body—you’re training your mind.

Life is going to get heavy. It’s going to knock you down with its unfairness, with its challenges and uncertainties. No one will be there to lift the weight off your back. You have to do that for yourself. You need the strength to get back up, because if you don’t, you’ll be pinned down by life’s burdens. It’s why we lift. It’s why we squat. Because in doing so, we’re preparing ourselves for those moments. We’re conditioning our minds and bodies for resilience. When the weight of the world presses down on you, you have a choice: either let it crush you, or rise against it.

Squatting teaches you to face the obstacles head-on. It’s a practice of perseverance, of telling yourself, “I’m not afraid of this. I will rise. I will be stronger.” In a world where so many succumb to comfort and convenience, squatting becomes an act of rebellion, a declaration of your strength. Rise when you fall. Squat in a world full of distractions and stagnation. Be stronger, be better, and prepare yourself for whatever life throws your way.

The weight may be heavy, but I choose to rise. Every time.