If you are linked into the online community of weight loss, you’ve probably seen this video (and you could have easily seen it just for the entertainment value.
Without giving away the whole thing, I’ll let you watch it, but then I’m going to comment on it. You’ll have to scroll a bit. I want you to watch the video without my thoughts ruining it for you:
So have you watched it yet? Good.
I’ve already watched it twice, and I’ll probably watch it again as soon as I’m done typing this. I enjoyed it that much.
Of course, that’s pretty obsessive for a video. I can objectively recognize that it’s not the greatest thing on earth, but it resonated.
One of the only other things to resonate like this was when The Oatmeal published this article on running.
There was something hidden in the humor (and honestly hidden in the emotional moments) of both of these products that just hit right in the sweet spot of empathy.
I can’t run marathons. I can’t drop a ridiculous amount of weight in a year. But I can understand what it’s like to want to escape and find peace in the universe (even if you’re listening to Slayer in the process). I can understand what it’s like to put on running shoes and have no further goal than getting away from whatever’s bothering you. I can understand what it’s like push yourself to physical exhaustion just so you can function the rest of the time.
And sometimes it’s this exhibition of pain that helps us understand and maybe motivates us better than the alternative.
I don’t look at people’s weight loss progress pics and get inspired. I just think I’m lucky it never got that bad. I don’t look at people’s marathons, etc., and think I could do that. I just think I’ll be happy to run all of a 5K some day if I work really hard.
Objectively, I know these are great and wonderful things, and I’m proud of them for doing it. But it’s not something I understand.
You see, I don’t empathize with success. I empathize with struggle. I empathize with failure. I empathize with hitting a wall and finding a way to keep moving forward.
So maybe what I saw was a guy struggling and somehow pushing anyway. Maybe hidden under the humor and sadness, what I saw was some version of me, and seeing that version of me be successful made me think I could be a version of me that’s successful in a way that I can’t comprehend now.
But maybe that’s just my take on things.
If you want the written version, the video was based on this article. I can vaguely remember the article coming out, but I either didn’t read it or it didn’t connect like the video.