Just an Adult Channelling His Inner Pro Wrestler

It’s funny what I find motivating—and the odd things I sometimes do to push myself.

I wasn’t really feeling it during this morning’s workout. Halfway through a set of lunges, I could feel my life force ebbing away like a slow-draining battery. The temptation to call it quits was growing stronger. But somewhere inside, I also knew I had a little more to give.

So I started flexing, breathing deeply, and channeling my inner ’80s Hulk Hogan.

When I was a kid, I used to watch pro wrestling. I never fully understood the storylines, but I remember Hulk Hogan. Specifically, the moment when he’d be on the brink of defeat—shoulders slumped, eyes glazed—and then, somehow, he’d summon the collective energy of his Hulkamaniacs. The crowd would roar, he’d start shaking like a malfunctioning toaster, and you knew the match had just turned. He wasn’t just back—he was invincible.

This morning, for reasons I don’t entirely understand, I tried to channel that same absurd, over-the-top energy. There was no audience, no villain, no championship belt on the line. Just me, in my room, battling low motivation and mild disinterest. But it worked. Somehow, flexing like a nostalgic maniac gave me just enough momentum to finish my workout.

I often think of health as a set of habits: nutrition, exercise, sleep, and so on. And yes, those matter. But sometimes, I think it’s also about finding small, strange ways to keep going when motivation evaporates. Sometimes, it looks like flexing in your bedroom like a buffoon and whispering, “Whatcha gonna do, brother?”