How Plank Ended My War With My Body
The redemptive power of planking (and not the internet challenge kind)
There I was, fresh out of college, existing in that awkward purgatory between All-Nighter Connoisseur and Functional Adult™. Somewhere between polishing off my 10th cup of coffee and scrounging for spare quarters to do laundry, it hit me — the cold, harsh realization that my body had become a disturbingly efficient byproduct processing plant.
I was pouring an endless stream of subpar fuel into this sad, neglected machine while simultaneously berating it for daring to exist in a less-than-beach-body form. It was a vicious, self-deprecating cycle of misery.
That’s when Sarah, my magnanimous voice of reason and good buddy, staged an intervention. Furrowing her brow (the telltale sign that she was about to drop some serious wisdom), she leveled with me:
“Dude, you need to make peace with your body.”
She was right, of course. But how does one simply…end a war with their own flesh prison? Did I try diplomatic negotiations? Arrange a ceasefire and begin disarmament? Write a sternly worded letter?
That’s when the glorious concept of planking invaded my addled brain like a shining beacon of hope, an olive branch extended from the fitness gods themselves.
If you’re not familiar with the exercise, allow me to paint you a vivid picture: You assume the position of a corporate grunt enduring the daily grind, face mushed against the desk as you ponder what poor life choices catalyzed this existential crisis — no wait, that’s just Thursday afternoon at the office.
Actually planking is when you get horizontal and rigid, engaging your core until your abs cry the same pitiful whimpers as they did during middle school P.E.
When I first tentatively eased myself into that taunting plank position, my body unleashed a furious rebellion:
“You think you can make amends with a few measly seconds of torture?! Oh, you’ve got another thing coming!”
But I persisted, gradually increasing the duration until I could hold that agonizing pose long enough to overthink every awkward social interaction since kindergarten.
Through the tears and trembles, the most peculiar thing occurred — I began viewing my body not as an enemy combatant, but as a loyal soldier simply doing its best on the frontlines. Those rolls and wobbles weren’t flaws, they were hard-earned battle scars. That squishy midsection was proof that I had survived famine and frat parties.
With each wonderfully wretched second of planking, I was fostering respect and gratitude. After all, my body had stuck by me through questionable lifestyle choices, inebriated miscalculations, and that regrettable frosted tips phase. The least I could do was hear out its cries for some R&R in the form of a simple core exercise.
So if you too are trapped in a vicious cycle of self-loathing and misguided nitpicking, I implore you: Give planking a try. Embrace the shake and ache, let it rebuild the mind-body bridges your inner drill sergeant demolished years ago.
Who knows, you might even enjoy the meditative moments where the only thought echoing through your mind is “Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow.” It’s all about perspective, right? Now drop and give me twenty…seconds. We’ve got some reconnecting to do.
Take the next step in your journey.
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