Physical summer

When I was three and living with my aunt and uncle, my cousin and I got to stay up to watch the Incredible Hulk. My aunt and uncle banned Star Trek and Scooby Doo, but the Incredible Hulk was okay. I'd watch the transformation from Bill Bixby's David Banner to Lou Ferrigno's Hulk, cheesy green wig and body paint included, and I was hooked. I wanted to be like Lou Ferrigno when I grew up, not Bill Bixby. The power in David Banner was this bigger, darker, more mysterious side of him: "Mr. Mcgee, don't make me angry. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry." A mysterious threat. Anyone would take one look at Bill and say, "What's there to be afraid of?" but then the eyes would turn green and pain and anger would trigger the transformation.

During the school year I spend a lot of time in the office, with books, teaching classes, going to meetings, and after a while there's this dry, dustiness that blows through my insides. I begin to feel old. One of the things that made me nervous about an academic profession was all the professors who looked cynical, tired, and incredibly bored, living more in their heads than anywhere else.

So when I feel like this I dream about working in the North Pacific on a fishing vessel, or out on an oil rig in the Gulf of Mexico, or building a cabin in the remote areas of Canada, complete with ropes and obstacle training course. There are two sides, like Indiana Jones, the intellectual, academic side (that sometimes is fascinated, sometimes bored), and the physical side that wants to go on an adventure, be it traveling or testing my physical limits (have bullwhip, will travel).

The summer started with a two week trip to Greece and Italy, then, when I came back, taekwondo, construction work, and hitting the gym, bike or tennis court.

When taekwondo first started I'd find myself hunched over the trash can, wondering if I'd throw up. This last Monday I actually did. I signed on with a house construction company to get some experience, fill some time, and hopefully have the skills to fix projects in my own house someday. I learned how to clean insulation out of attics, hang siding, caulk seams in the basement, and the other day held a saw over my head for hours as I cut holes in boards for heating vents to pass through. My hands are torn up and blistered, my triceps cramped to the point that I had to hold an arm cradled to my chest until the cramps passed, and by the end of the day I'm plastered in sawdust and shredded newspaper.

I started taking supplements (not steroids) and have been going to the gym. My body feels like it's transforming, like I'm waking up inside the body of someone else. My birth mom was a bodybuilder for a while, and I inherited her genes, so I've given up the dreams of ever looking like an elf and realize I'll probably look more like a dwarf (though the beard has been shaved off).

It's been hardcore, complete with egg whites (cartons of liquid egg rather than all those yolks to throw away), turkey, fish, chicken, sweet potatoes, potatoes, greens, gallons of water, fruit and nuts, meals six times a day. Chuck Palahniuk, in his book Stranger Than Fiction, talks about his brief stint using anabolic steroids. It's addicting, psychologically more than physically. A transformation is taking place, you can see tangible results for your efforts, and your body feels more like that of a titan or superhuman, rather than human. It's power, and power feels good. No wonder hardcore athletes continue to use even though they know the internal damage they're doing to their heart, their testicles, and other parts of them. It's hard to walk away from.

In high school I worked out because I wanted to be noticed, to date women, because I had a lot of anger and needed somewhere to channel it. Now, there's something else going on. I wanted to not have to think for a while. At the same time the semester ended, so did my relationship with a girl I'd been seeing. We weren't together long, but it impacted me a lot. Working to exhaustion, feeling pain in my back, legs, and arms felt cleansing, a way to put school and the voices in my head behind me for a while. It's worked, for the most part.

Palahniuk's steroid prescription ran out, and he stopped using. School's going to start again (at least office hours) in a few weeks, and my desire for a full-time career in construction has been satisfied (I'm more grateful for my education and job teaching), but I learned that I love both working with my body and my mind. In another life, or in Morrowind or Oblivion, I might have chosen the warrior poet, or the warrior monk. For now, the adventures are coming to an end, perhaps, at least until my restless spirit stirs up again.