My body has no concept of anything. It is a machine. Actin sliding over myosin, ATP shuffling through my cells. I race to show the power of the body and of nothing more. I love my machine. I respect my machine. I want to show the capacity of my machine. That’s a powerful goal, one that I can grasp, one that I can massage, one that I can tweak and train and nourish and stress.

I race to show the power of selection. My mom, in the deepest part of her subconscious chose my dad at least partially for the seemingly superficial reason of his muscles and ability at sport. She may not know it, but she did. My dad, maybe more willing to admit to his desires chose my mom partially based off her physique. She’s strong, fit, and capable. Less superficial, they both saw each other’s drive, the work ethic that underlined and highlighted their personalities. It was a process of selection. They wanted strong children and as little as they may have consciously considered this result, in the deepest well of their subconscious it was ingrained: to choose a mate based on strength. If it weren’t I wouldn’t be here today. We wouldn’t be here today.

I race to show the power of will and adaptability of the mind. Neuronal synapses determine my desire, my craving, and just like I have increased my hemoglobin concentration, I have adapted them to tolerate enormous amounts of pain. I have altered them from a pleasure seeking sausage to a strength seeking machine.

I am a collection of molecules of which a natural result of the universe was life. Of the natural result of life, I am a conscious being. I am aware of my surroundings and aware of what I am and what I am not. I am unaware of my purpose but of that I am not concerned. My goals are simple and concrete. I do not train for purpose. My life is not more purposeful because I took the top step as the best of some small sample of people. And if I try to apply purpose to these silly activities, I’ll fail.

Instead, I’ll do it blindly. I am a being with innate desires and pleasures. Ingrained within me is a desire to beat others. That is how my dad was selected over some scrawny sack of bones or some meat-head. That is how my mom was chosen over some ditsy goof. That is how I am here. That is how we are here. It is innate within all of us. And if by chance someone has strayed from this competition, their beliefs will soon be gone. I race to help improve my competition, to see them succeed, to see us succeed.

It is innate within me to want to be strong, to want to do work. Work equals food in my body despite that I consciously know I could run on welfare of others. That is not satisfying though. Work is satisfying. I am a brute being who is satisfied by brute activities and if I fight to step above that, my physiology will direct me deep into depression. Training makes me happy. Work makes me happy. Winning makes me happy. Happiness helps me win.