An Anecdote of Addiction

I have two tests tomorrow and a full night's worth of studying ahead of me, but academia could not be any less important in my mind right now. There is a single thought that has claimed sole custody of my brain; I MUST GET IN THE GYM THIS SECOND! I have gone a full 48 hours without a visit to UCF's Recreation and Wellness Center and my inability to workout for the last two days is starting to take its toll. My joints are stiff and sore, my bones crack with every step I take, and my skin is crawling. I do not claim to know what death is like, but in this moment, I am convinced it is upon me. Of course, I am in no sense nearing my demise. What I am going through is withdrawal. My craving to fitness and weight lifting has gone unquenched and now it is taking over my very being. Now, as far as addictions go, I suppose I could be much worse off; the incessant need to better one's physique is not nearly as detrimental as alcoholism or chronic drug use. However the withdrawals I experience when I resist these urges are quite overwhelming just like any other “need for a fix”

Addictions can stem from laundry list of causes. They may start as one's attempt to cope with pain, stress, depression, etc., or may just be the result of intense curiosity. My addiction for weight training is the result of various aspects coinciding with each other. The first contributor is the physical improvements that arise from a dedicated workout routine. Having this positive, tangible reminder of what my weight lifting is doing to my body only serves as a firm establishment for the addiction. Supplementing this cause, is the feeling of control I garner from seeing how certain efforts in gym affect my body. Lifting, like any other highly physical activity causes the release of endorphins, and the feeling of well-being that accompany these neurotransmitters further solidifies the addiction. Finally, although I do not consider myself a self-masochist, I do find a bit of pleasure in the soreness that I feel after a intensive visit to the gym. The combined impacts of these components make my addiction for fitness very irresistible and one that I, understandably, have a real hard time getting over.

My addiction may seem rather insignificant, especially when compared to the number of people who are left penniless and decrepit due to rampant drug abuse. I am not in search for pity, because if the only “demon” in my life is the extraordinary impulse to keep physically fit, then I have very little to be upset about. My addiction has shown me though just how tight a compulsion can grip a person. I truly commiserate those that suffer through wracking of addictions more destructive than my own.