On Fitness and Addiction. “Why work up a sweat with dumbbells in your hands if your body is already perfect?”

At the gym I go to (well, not that I go there all the time—I just drop by sometimes), a fitness goddess works out.

Usually, when I start my workout, it works my butt. When I finish an hour later, it's still working my butt.

Sometimes, however, it even extends to other muscles. And every time, I'm amazed by the amount of work it does.

She picks up weights that are unimaginable for someone of her build, and she lifts and lifts and lifts. She's like a machine, I swear!

You can't help but watch this. And you can't help but admire that body. This girl looks absolutely stunning! Toned, strong, athletic. And yes, her butt in those leggings is beyond praise.

But there really isn't any sexism in my admiration. Well, I mean, it's not just sexism.

A body of such perfection is, in principle, a great rarity. In ancient times, she would have been sculpted in marble. True, back then, standards of female beauty were more lenient and flexible, while muscularity was valued in men. But times change.

However, my admiration and a touch of athletic envy (because I can't even come close to doing that) are occasionally mixed with a sense of bewilderment.

I can't stop asking myself, “What's the point of all this?”

Why work so hard with dumbbells in your hands if your body is already perfect?

At first, I thought she was a professional athlete. But then I ruled that out. After all, athletes usually don't train their entire bodies—just the parts that will help them in their specific sport.

Then I decided she must be a bodybuilder. But after giving it some thought, I ruled that out too. Because not once did my nymph go to the mirror to admire the results of her titanic efforts. She never struck those characteristic poses or took photos of her beautiful figure from alluring angles.

And the conclusion is obvious: she trains for the sake of training itself. All this hard work is done solely for the sake of hard work.

There are just some people who, no matter what you give them, won't be satisfied unless they're faced with challenges, hardships, or something unbearable—until they're completely exhausted.

They sweat it out in gyms, push themselves to the limit in marathons, and lift weights until their muscles ache. In the most extreme cases, they even swim across oceans and climb 8,000-meter peaks.

I read a story about an American drug addict who, at some point, managed to get off the needle. But drug addicts are a unique bunch. It’s no wonder that those who are clean don’t even drink beer. She started working out. And that was the most socially acceptable of all her addictions.

No one saw the bloody blisters she got from running. No one knew that she would get up at three in the morning to go to the gym. No one knew that her period had stopped because of the intense training.

Everyone saw only a perfectly sculpted body and admired it endlessly.

At some point, she realized she had simply found a different kind of drug for herself and sought help. It turned out that such a disorder simply wasn't listed in the medical reference guide…

But it really is an addiction.

There are actually a lot of these fitness fanatics. And modern medicine is on their side. They get torn ligaments in their ankles and Achilles tendons repaired, heart valves replaced, and titanium knee joints implanted to replace their worn-out natural ones.

And they just keep going and going, running and running after another dose of endorphins and away from the voices in their heads.

Fitness has become a global industry. Being fit, muscular, and having a six-pack has become fashionable and sexy.

And it can't be said that this trend is harmful in principle.

But here, I think, a Polish proverb fits perfectly: Too much of anything is unhealthy.

Playing sports is great and healthy. With our sedentary lifestyle, it’s a must. But everything is good in moderation.

Yes, no psychiatrist would diagnose you with any disorder, and everyone around you will simply admire your persistence and determination.

Yes, you'll look absolutely great!

But if sports become an opiate, then you need to deal with the voices in your head that drive you to the stadium…

Or maybe I'm just jealous?