Unpacking my beliefs about physical strength, part 1

There’s a part of me that can’t shake the belief that physical weakness is woven into the fabric of my identity. This realization surfaced unexpectedly after I read about Hafþór Björnsson, the Icelandic strongman and world record holder for the heaviest deadlift, who sports a tattoo just below his right knee. The tattoo reads, simply: “Don’t weaken.”

When I first learned about this tattoo, I caught myself whispering, “Whoa,” before setting down my book to reflect. The word “weaken,” permanently etched onto a part of the body that, for me, is so affected by Charcot-Marie-Tooth (CMT) disease, struck a deeply personal chord.

I don’t find Björnsson’s tattoo offensive or in poor taste. For him, those words are an important reminder as he pushes his body’s limits. They also serve as a personal tribute to Terry Todd, a pivotal figure in strength sports, event director of the World’s Strongest Man, and creator of the Arnold Strongman Classic.

“It’s a good life if you don’t weaken,” was Todd’s personal mantra, passed down from his grandmother. Within his community, these words became a source of comfort and encouragement.

Recommended Reading

September 5, 2024 Columns by Young Lee

The importance of finding an enjoyable form of exercise

Setting expectations

But for me, those same words forced me to confront a part of my subconscious I wasn’t ready to face. They brought a flood of questions: Am I weak physically? Am I afraid or ashamed of that? What does it even mean to be weak?

I’ve gained strength after years of lifting weights — enough, apparently, to do more pushups than the average American. Despite this, I’ve never truly identified with physical strength, and I doubt I ever will.

Still, I’m finding value in exploring why that is, and what it might mean for me, even if the answers remain elusive.

Instead of seeing myself as physically strong, I often warn people who hear about my exercise regimen not to expect much. I hesitate when handed jars or bottles to open. Occasionally, I even describe myself as “comically weak.”

Is it wrong that I find these descriptions fitting? CMT affects much of my body, making me weaker than I would otherwise be. My grip and dexterity falter; I can’t stand on my toes. Even with regular calf training, progress is minimal. Compared with most regular gym-goers, I’m undoubtedly physically weaker.

That said, I don’t mean to suggest that strength training isn’t a worthy goal for myself or others. I refuse to be fatalistic about this aspect of my life and have committed to spending time and effort to maintain, as much as possible, the strength and muscles I have.

And yet, I’m beginning to suspect that physical strength may, in fact, be largely overrated as an ultimate end goal or a proxy for the aspects of life I personally find meaningful. At the same time, I also suspect physical strength may be greatly underrated in its capacity to help me achieve things I find personally fulfilling.

Next week, I’ll share some personal thoughts on the merits of physical strength that might differ from some of the common narratives out there. 

Note: Charcot-Marie-Tooth News is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or other qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of Charcot-Marie-Tooth News or its parent company, Bionews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to Charcot-Marie-Tooth.