I won't blather on about all the physical, hormonal, empirical benefits that I'm sure we've all been informed of ad nauseum. I think lifting allows for a firsthand encounter with the suffering that's inherent to living, the suffering that the more sensitive among us can't help but metabolize as depression or despair. Lifting weights is not pleasurable in the traditional sense; you are literally tearing your muscles apart. It's taxing, it's exhausting, and when you go to failure you're gracelessly reminded of your limitations, of your mortality. In fact, the only way to grow stronger is to go to failure— it’s absolutely necessary that you must confront your own weakness regularly. But this encounter is incredibly important, it makes something previously nebulous and overwhelming and undefinable real, measurable, and extremely importantly, in your control. And this suffering with time transforms into growth, strength, beauty. When everything's said and done, I think that's the best you can hope to make of the sorrow that's essential to life. It's not for everyone, but it's brought me a surprising amount of peace.