This post is about radical acceptance. For over 20 years of my life, I was continuously the strongest I’d ever been, as I steadily and measurably increased the weights I was able to put up at the gym. I remember how proud I was when I finally hit the 315 bench press milestone, where you cockily throw three 45-pound plates on each side of the bar and grunt your accomplishment for the entire gym to hear, if not see.

But then, a spate of upper-body injuries hit me, and I’ve spent the past eight years chasing the literal highs I once attained. I’ve been free of injuries for almost a year now, but my body is different. It’s older. It’s more fragile. And I can feel it telling me, “This is as good as we’re gonna get now.” I can feel it warning me, “If we push too hard, we’re going to break down. Again.”

It’s disheartening to recognize that I will never again be as strong as I once was. But I think I can radically accept that 5 reps at 245 lbs is still pretty f-cking strong for someone turning 50 in a little over a month …