Between 2019 and 2021, the world stopped, and so did I. Other than running a bit to clear my lungs, I did nothing. No upper body work, no real strength. I thought I was "in shape," but it was a runner's illusion. When I started prep school, that illusion shattered. My first year wasn't about sports; it was about survival. I hadn't taken the math specialty in high school, and I found myself having to catch up on an abyssal delay. Every calorie of my energy went into theorems and equations. Sports? Non-existent. Time? A luxury I didn't have.
It wasn't until January 2021 that I finally walked into a gym. I knew nothing; I felt a bit lost among the machines. But the true spark, the one that changed everything, happened in September 2021. I was training in the gym next to the school when I met a guy. He leaned against a wall and launched into a handstand. Just like that. To me, it was magic. He showed me how to place my hands, how to engage my core, how to use the wall as a crutch. That day, the seed was planted.
For three years, I navigated between that gym and calisthenics parks. Prep school never let up, but I learned to integrate training as a necessary breath of air. One hour after classes, no matter the fatigue, no matter the cold. No one checked if I went. It was my own discipline, my own contract. Today, I hold my handstand for 30 seconds without a wall, I've mastered the muscle-up, and I feel an immense pride. The road is hard, sometimes bitter, but every second spent training was worth it.