I started working out again for superficial reasons—body goals inspired by the physiques of Olympic runners. I knew I needed to get back into the gym anyway, but let’s be real, I was looking at those runners and thinking, “I want that.” So, I got back to it.

Tonight, I hit the gym for a late-night session and decided to go for a run. It was a solid workout, nothing out of the ordinary—until I started crying. I wasn’t even sure why, but there I was, mid-cool down, tears streaming down my face. But you couldn’t really tell because I was so sweaty. It was like my body was using the workout as a cover, masking the tears with sweat.

It wasn’t just a few tears either. It was a deep, gut-wrenching cry, the kind that hits you when you least expect it. It felt like something that needed to come out, even though I couldn’t pinpoint a reason. I kept going with my workout, but I was crying between reps, trying to push through it.

That’s when I realized the real reason I work out. It’s not just for the body goals or the endorphins. Working out gives me a chance to open up my heart—something I find almost impossible to do. I’ve built these walls around myself, layers so thick that nothing gets out. I keep everything locked up inside because, honestly, it’s easier that way.

The hardest work I’ve ever done isn’t in the gym. It’s the inner work—the kind that forces me to face the stuff I’d rather ignore, avoid, and bury deep down. It’s so easy to suppress, to deny, to cover it all up. And there’s no one around to call me out on it because I don’t let anyone in. People see me every day, but they don’t really know me. I don’t let them.

I haven’t written a blog since January, and so much has happened since then. But tonight, in the gym, I found myself crying in public. And I think it’s because, in that moment, I was finally opening my heart, letting something out that had been locked away for too long.

Sometimes, tears look like sweat in the gym. And maybe that’s okay.

[Spoken by me/rewritten by ChatCPT]