Escape

On a bright summer’s day, the bodybuilder achieved his lifelong dream, winning the prestigious title of “World’s Strongest Man.”

His competitors, who had dedicated their lives to tearing and re-tearing their bodies, stared in amazement. The man’s body was a marvel, shredded to pieces and rebuilt from scratch thousands of times over the years, a testament to his hard work, a manifestation of his determination. And over the years, it became sculpted to perfection.

The man posed on the dais as if his image proved the existence of a grand designer. The crowds gawked and awed and clapped. The man smiled at the attention, he craved it; it pushed him to work harder, lift heavier, and spend longer nights at the gym, his temple.

Afterward, the reporters swarmed in, prodding their microphones in his face, asking for a quote. “What’s your secret to success?” they asked, clawing past one another for a few sage words. “Is it determination? Is it drive? Perseverance, perhaps? Or maybe persistence? Tell us,” they seemed all say in unison, “tell us your secret.”

The bodybuilder had no answers to give. He had no wisdom to share, no words of motivation. The reporters were relentless, craving the secrets of the universe like beggars, thinking it were easy. There was no recipe to a happy life, no formula to instant fame and riches. And if there was, it couldn't be told. It had to be lived. 

So the bodybuilder responded the only way he knew how: with the truth.

With a polite smile, he said, “There is no secret. My body is the result of years of hard work. It is the result of many hours sacrificed, through relationships and heartache, through personal struggle and hopelessness, through countless unmotivated days and countless nights of soul-searching.

“But, above all else, there is one thing that pushed me forward to where I am today.”

The microphones came closer. The reporters' faces grew more eager. They elbowed in, clawing for a better camera angle.

“Tell us. Tell us. Tell us,” they said, like a pack of lustful hyenas surrounding a lion. “Tell us the secret. What’s the secret?”

The bodybuilder paused, and the room fell dead silent. “I began working out at the age of fifteen. I was clueless, lost. There was nobody to teach me, to guide me, to point me in the right direction. But those were the little problems, and they were fixed naturally. The secret to my success was emotional. The gym was my church, where I'd pray, where I'd find peace. The release became my escape.

“All throughout my youth, my parents fought. Daily, they yelled and bickered. Sometimes it was insults, sometimes they threw plates, sometimes fists. There was tension, and there were tears. The memories will forever be unforgettable, and the acts unforgivable. At times, it seemed like my parents wanted to kill one another. Other times, they actually tried. 

“When I was fifteen, I made myself two promises. I promised to always better myself in hopes of finding happiness, and I promised to remove all the toxic people bringing me down. After that, every time momma smashed a plate, or papa threw a punch, I’d go to the gym and never look back. 

“It was my escape.”