If you want bulging strong muscles a good resistance workout is key! You actually have to tear down your muscles and your body in order to build them back up stronger. This same process is what creates a strong person, resistance. I believe that trials make a person stronger, that a person can only know his or her true strength when it is being tested. I believe that you sometimes have to be knocked down in order to become even stronger. This is what I believe.
My refining fire came in a form that I never would have dreamed could happen to me. I just wasn’t the kind of person this sort of thing happened to. I was a soccer player with a dream of greatness. I was a sophomore in high school and starting on the best club soccer team in the state, and was a big part of the 2nd best high school varsity soccer team in the state. Colleges were looking at me, everything was perfect and nothing could go wrong, but I wanted more, I wanted to be the best. At the end of my high school soccer season and the beginning of my club soccer season, I decided to train a little harder everyday, and eat a little healthier nothing could be wrong with that right? At first it was all ok, but things started to get out of hand. I was a competitive person and in my striving to be the best, and outwork and outplay everyone else, things began to plummet out of control. My workouts became, well insane, I would run at least four and a half miles, then do sprints for one hour, then practice soccer for two hours (at least), then lift weights for an hour after that. From the time I got home from school till nine or ten o clock at night I was exercising, a lot of times I would go until my body gave in and I fainted, but practice makes perfect right? My eating became more and more restricted, and my weight was really starting to drop.
It got to a point that my club soccer coach refused to play me anymore because of my weight, teammates, friends, and family all deserted me, I was alone. Even at this point I still refused to believe that I had a problem, an eating disorder. I continued my insane routine, and also continued my spiral downward. My trial got worse when summer hit and my weight loss, speed up even more. By the end of July I was 92 pounds and in really bad shape. I was having with what I thought were extreme side aches, and trouble breathing, along with a lot of pain in my heart. One hot summer day as I started out on my usual four mile run, I was finally shocked into discovery of how truly bad off I was. As I began running my sides started to hurt like normal but, my heart was really in pain this time. I couldn’t breathe and I felt like I was having a heart attack. I collapsed on the side of the road, and blacked out because of the pain. When I got up I walked home my mom was, as you can imagine a little freaked out, and took me to the hospital. It turned out my extreme side aches were actually my organs dying inside me, and my heart pain was just that, my heart giving out. My doctors said if I continued to exercise I would die, even running one mile could be death for me. I refused to believe this, but I didn’t really want to die.
I continued to run, exercise, and practice soccer, (to the large disapproval of my family and friends) but stopped when things hurt. Running and playing soccer were therapy for me, if I couldn’t run and play the game I love, then I might as well die. What else was there to live for? Slowly I started to increase my food intake, and eat foods that I would have never eaten before, however, I still firmly refused to eat any sugary or fatty foods, but I still won’t eat that kind of food even now. I would gain some weight then lose it, then gain some more and lose it again. It was Hell, and I could see no light at the end of the tunnel. I wasn’t just a skeleton taking on myself, but I was a skeleton taking on the world and the kind of person they thought (and sometimes yelled at) I was. People really show their true colors when you’re weak, and easy to walk all over.
Despite all that I had against me I fought and fought and fought, because it was either that or just kick the bucket. Each pound was a victory and a loss to me at the same time. Time passed and life well really stunk. February of my junior year, over a year after it all began; I was finally winning the war. I had reached my goal, and was finally at a healthy weight. It had taken many injuries from over exercising, and lots of sicknesses from a weak immune system to get there, but I was there. Have you ever heard the expression “What doesn’t kill me only makes me stronger.” This statement pretty much sums up my life in the last three years. Emotionally it was still tough, I wasn’t use to a normal body but, I would survive, the worst was over. I was stronger not just physically which I most defiantly was, but mentally as well. I had gone through my own personal holocaust, and lived; I could defiantly take on anything else the world could throw at me. If you want stronger muscles you have to break them down before you can build them back up. I believe the same goes with your life, that trials make a person stronger, that a person can only know his or her true strength when it is being tested. Over the last three years I was broken down, beat up, and almost killed by an eating disorder, but I survived, and am stronger because of it. I believe that whether its strong muscles or strong people resistance, and troubles are key.