Lifting Myself: Fitness & My Sobriety Journey

From Rock Bottom to the Gym Floor: My First Steps into Fitness

Recovery is never just about quitting something—it’s about replacing it with something better. When I first walked into the gym in the evening after work, I had no idea it would become such a powerful force in my sobriety journey. My body was weak, my posture slouched, and my stamina was nonexistent (Read more about my darkest hour here). Years of alcohol abuse had left their mark, and now, I was asking my body to fight back.

The air smelled of sweat and iron, and the rhythmic clanging of weights hitting the floor was both intimidating and exciting. I paused at the entrance, taking in the scene. My wife’s words from that morning echoed in my mind:

“Go slow. This is about rebuilding, not proving anything.”

A trainer nearby must have noticed my hesitation.

“First time?” he asked with a nod.
“First time in a long time,” I admitted.

That first workout wasn’t about lifting heavy or pushing my limits—it was about proving to myself that I belonged there. As I stepped onto the treadmill, my heartbeat raced, but this time, it wasn’t from fear. It was the first real movement of strength and control I had felt in years.

The Power of Routine: How Fitness Became My Therapy

Addiction thrives in chaos; fitness thrives in routine. My life before gym and yoga was unpredictable—I drank when I wanted, slept when I could, and numbed my emotions however I found possible. But the moment I committed to exercise for addiction recovery, I realized that structure could be my greatest ally in sobriety.

My routine became simple but powerful:

• Mornings were for Yoga, a calm and quiet start to my day.
• Evenings were for Gym, a place where I could release my energy and push my limits.

At first, my workouts were slow. I wasn’t lifting much, and my body resisted the change. But as the days passed, I pushed harder. Within just a few weeks, I found myself lifting heavier weights—not because I had to, but because I loved the feeling.

One evening, after an intense session, I sat on a bench, sweat dripping down my face. A regular at the gym, an older man who had been silently observing my efforts, nodded in approval.

“You keep showing up. That’s what matters,” he said. And he was right. Every session was a small victory—a reason to keep going.

Strength Over Weakness: How Weightlifting Reshaped My Mindset

At first, lifting weights was just about fitness—a way to build strength. But soon, I realized that lifting wasn’t just about my muscles; it was about my mindset.

I learned patience: just as I couldn’t lift heavy on day one, I couldn’t fix my life overnight.

I learned resilience: some days, my muscles burned, my hands trembled, and my mind screamed to quit. But I didn’t.

I learned to replace self-destruction with self-improvement.

The same hands that once held bottles of alcohol now gripped dumbbells, veins pulsing with renewed energy. I started getting a high from lifting, a feeling I never thought possible without alcohol. The rush of energy after a successful set, the satisfaction of pushing past my own limits—it became my new addiction.

One day, after deadlifting a weight I once thought impossible, I whispered to myself:

“If I can lift this, I can lift myself out of anything.”

And that thought alone kept me coming back.

Yoga: Finding Balance in My Recovery Journey

While gym workouts gave me strength, yoga brought me balance. Unlike the gym, where I was pushing my body to its limits, yoga became a way to slow down, breathe, and reconnect with myself.

Surprisingly, I didn’t start yoga to calm my mind—I started it to digest my food better. The heavy workouts in the gym made me eat more, and I needed something to help my body adjust. A friend suggested I try yoga poses for digestion, and I thought, Why not?

Unlike the gym, where trainers guided me, I practiced yoga on my own. In India, yoga is a common practice—most people learn at least the basics in school. I had learned many difficult poses in my younger years but had long abandoned them in favor of alcohol. Now, standing in my living room, rolling out an old yoga mat, I tried to bring those memories back.

At first, my body resisted. My muscles were tight, my flexibility had disappeared. But as I moved through familiar poses—the deep stretches, the controlled breathing—I felt something shift.

“You’re not forcing your body anymore,” I thought. “You’re working with it.”

Yoga wasn’t just a fitness practice—it was a mental reset, a pause button in a life that had once been in constant chaos.

Fitness vs. Addiction: Replacing the Old Highs with New Ones

There’s a reason they call it a “runner’s high.” The euphoria of completing a tough workout, the rush of adrenaline after pushing past limits—these became my new highs.

For years, alcohol was my escape, my coping mechanism. But fitness gave me something alcohol never could—genuine pride. There was no crash, no guilt, no regret. Just the satisfaction of knowing I was rebuilding.

One evening, as I left the gym, I ran into an old drinking buddy. He looked me up and down and smirked,

“Didn’t think you’d trade whiskey for protein shakes.”

I laughed, shaking my head.

“Didn’t think I’d trade destruction for strength, either.”

The truth was, I had replaced self-destruction with self-creation. My body, once wrecked by addiction, was now fueled by discipline.

Each rep, each mile, each stretch in yoga wasn’t just a workout—it was a testament to my sobriety.

Looking Ahead: The Lifelong Journey of Fitness and Sobriety

Fitness is not a phase; it’s a lifelong journey, just like sobriety. Some days, I wake up feeling unstoppable. Other days, the old cravings creep in, whispering doubts, tempting me with escape. But I have an answer for those voices now (Here’s how I took the first steps after rehab).

I put on my running shoes, step into the gym, roll out my yoga mat, and choose strength over weakness.

Because fitness isn’t just about looking better—it’s about feeling better, thinking clearer, and staying stronger.

As I continue this journey, I look ahead to new challenges: running longer, lifting heavier, mastering advanced yoga poses. These goals excite me far more than any drink ever did.

And so, I keep moving. Because in fitness, as in sobriety, the only way to fail is to stop trying.

Final Thoughts

If you’re struggling, remember this: fitness isn’t a magic cure, but it provides the foundation for rebuilding your life.  Perfection isn’t required; just consistent effort. One workout, one breath, one step forward at a time.

In my next blog, I’ll share how prayer played a crucial role in my recovery, guiding me beyond just physical strength to emotional and spiritual healing.

Join me as I take this journey further.