Training, Existential Angst, and Sonic The Hedgehog

One reason I train is to defeat existential angst.

And maybe, to defy the Gods.

And I don’t think I’m alone in that… though it probably sounds a little insane. So, let’s back up and I’ll explain where I’m coming from. Maybe you’ll be able to relate more than you think.

When I was a little kid, I loved to run. And I loved superheroes, Transformers, and Sonic the Hedgehog. I wanted to be fast like Sonic and I loved how it felt to sprint around the playground. I was pretty fast.

I was super happy with a wonderful family and great friends and everyone commented how happy and energetic I was. The head teacher at my school called me her “little sunshine” and I was famous for constantly smiling.

Then, when I was 9, my Dad died. And it was awful. I cried on the sofa for days on end. Doctors visited me at home and considered giving me anti-depressants.

When I went back to school, after some time away, I remember my friends telling me what their parents had said about me. That I wouldn’t be the same. That I might not find the same things funny or be as happy. I might be a little more shy and reserved.

And I was absolutely determined not to let that happen. I was determined not to be beaten down by the universe and events. Not to let powers beyond my control change me.

I was determined to show all my friends I was the exact same as before. Better even.

I would be just as smiley, just as energetic, just as fast.

And there was another side to it as well: I had to be strong for my Mum and my little sister. Grandparents on both sides of the family had told me that, with the best of intentions.

I had to fill my Dad’s shoes. And as some of you might have experienced, when someone dies, they get put on a pedestal. You get told over and over how perfect they were – again, all with the best of intentions.

They were right, too, because my Dad was really amazing. He made other people feel more confident in themselves. He was successful, and fun, and we loved going on adventures together.

How could I live up to those expectations?

There was fear, too. Fear of more bad things happening that I couldn’t stop. You either keep going or you let the dread catch up to you.

At that moment, the universe could have become an impossibly vast, indifferent, and scary place.

But I wasn’t going to let that happen. I was going to be like my heroes and keep running, keep pushing, keep fighting.

It was about that time that I discovered working out.

I saw Jackie Chan, Sylvester Stallone, and Arnie on TV and I thought they were real-life superheroes. I could be like them if I exercised and ate right. I could be like Rambo.

Then I met my Step Granddad who had spent time as a bodyguard in Egypt. He taught me how to fight with pressure points, how to train with calisthenics in my room. We started Tai Chi, together.

Like many people I started with push ups in my room.

Eventually, I was doing hundreds and hundreds of push ups. Sometimes more than 200 a night. I rarely missed a night.

And it wasn’t enough to just be strong. I wanted to be smart and happy and fast and emotionally stable. I started doing martial arts, parkour, walking on my hands, studying psychology.

I wanted to impress my Grandma so she would say “isn’t he clever!”

And impress my friends by doing wall flips. I won Teen Bodybuilder of the Month on Bodybuilding.com. I swam 200 meters underwater. I competed in sprinting and hurdles at a county level.

Fuck you, Universe.

The strategy of pushing harder worked pretty well, for a while.

I don’t want this to sound like a sad story, because it’s not really. One really sad thing happened to me and it undoubtedly played a huge role in shaping me. It definitely left me feeling more angry and anxious than I otherwise would have been.

But I still loved my family – including my new family. And I had a lot of friends at school. I still loved life.

The thing is, though, I felt this need to push and to be strong and not to show weakness. Every time I would feel sad or tired or overwhelmed, working out was my way of pushing back and showing that I wouldn’t surrender. I wouldn’t let my circumstances bend me to their will.

And I think this is how a lot of people feel, actually. I think a lot of young guys, especially, feel they have to keep pushing and fighting. They need to be strong and masculine or risk feeling small and broken.

This can, eventually, lead to some toxic behaviour and beliefs. It can make people intolerant. Make them self-destructive, ironically. Make them stern and self-serious and insecure.

It’s why we see so many guys shouting about how strong they are, what it means to be a man. Showing off their PRs on Instagram or how much money they’ve made – as though it affects anyone else.

As though it’s not still just temporary.

It’s hollow.

When I became a parent, I got to create my own happy family. I’m once again, the happiest guy in the world. I have a beautiful, supportive wife, and two children who are my sunshines.

But with that came a lot more responsibility. And a lot more to lose.

My childhood experience was still affecting me and I started to feel anxious. For the first time in my life, I experienced intrusive thoughts as I started imaging all the terrible things that could happen.

To the point where it would begin to cause me quite a lot of distress. Leave me feeling scared and deeply sad about things that hadn’t happened. I started getting therapy and gained a lot of empathy for people who deal with mental health struggles, regularly.

Ultimately, I came to a realisation that changed my relationship with both training and that existential angst.

But as stupid and puerile as it maybe sounds, it came from Sonic the Hedgehog. Again.

Because Sonic isn’t traditionally stoic like the other heroes. He’s not a paragon and he’s not edgy. Instead he’s playful, even in the face of insurmountable odds.

I was watching Sonic X with my kids one day and one scene really stuck out to me. It was when Sonic was about to fight Knuckles and he stopped to pick up and smell a flower.

The dialogue was corny (the English translation does it a disservice) but the imagery really struck me.

See, another character might try and posture and pose. Maybe shout something threatening and sneer. Or quip in an effort to demean the opponent.

Sniffing a flower is objectively not cool. It’s not stoic or masculine.

But that’s how unbothered Sonic is by the situation.

As stupid as it sounds, I realised that being stronger and more in control isn’t about being as tough as you can be. It’s not about pushing yourself more and more.

It’s about being confident enough to just let go and smell the flowers.

These days a lot of the kids like Shadow. He’s edgy and dark and voiced by Keanu Reeves.

But who’s more badass? The guy who broods and sneers in the face of danger, or the guy who smiles? I know who I’d put my money on.

(This is the Japanese interpretation of Sonic, by the way. The one with hints of Shintoism, where Sonic is as much a force of nature than a character.)

There’s plenty more examples of this, too. When Elise is sad she’ll never see Sonic again, he reminds her to just smile.

When Merlina goes mad trying to ensure her world never ends, Sonic tells her:

“Merlina… Every world has its end. I know that’s kinda sad, but… That’s why we gotta live life to the fullest in the time we have.”

This is why kindness is strength, too. It’s giving some of your strength to someone else and sometimes that means being vulnerable.

Doing lots of defiant push ups will not keep my family safe from illness or accidents. It won’t stop bad things from happening.

And it’s not a fuck you to the universe – it’s the behaviour of someone who’s scared.

Anxiety isn’t logical. You will never be completely safe from bad things happening. You cannot control the world, no matter how strong you get.

The only reasonable recourse is to accept that.

Sonic’s supreme confidence doesn’t come from being in control. It’s the not needing to be in control. It’s knowing he can adapt with whatever situation comes his way.

He’s just a guy that loves adventure.

The best thing I can do for my family is to be the best version of myself. Not by spending all my time at the gym or working; by being present and optimistic and happy and helpful.

That means letting go and enjoying the moment.

This revelation has helped me to keep the worst of my anxiety at bay. I feel more like my old self than ever. But it’s also changed my relationship with fitness and training.

Because it’s still an emotional support for me. It’s still a way that I cope with hard times. But this time not because I want to push myself or grind or scream at the heavens.

This time it’s because I want to smile back. I want to stay playful, grounded, and present.

I want to enjoy being present in my body. And keep myself healthy so I can experience more things, with the people I love, for longer.

To me, now, fitness is play, its expression, its physical freedom. Moving my body is simply experiencing being alive.

When Sonic faces all manner of eldritch beings at the end of his games, he doesn’t scream at them or mock or belittle them. He just transforms into Super Sonic and smiles.

Whatever the universe throws at us, we can try and stay positive and keep moving. We can adapt and refuse to be pinned down.

True strength isn’t about never bending – it’s about bending without breaking.

I’m not saying we shouldn’t strive to better ourselves or push through hard times. Setting goals and training for them is an amazingly rewarding experience that shapes us in many ways. But only if that comes from the right place – from your genuine interests and passions.

And that shouldn’t be the only reason we move.

Because when things get tough, you’ll find me still doing my push ups and handstands, and still smiling.