TFW WHEN YOU MISCALCULATE

Katie In has had to look at so many blurry PDFs of hill sprint workouts over the years in the name of friendship. we send each other workouts a lot, though we don’t necessarily… do the workouts we send each other. So Katie sent me a document the other day in this vein.

It was called:

 “The Hardcore Azula Bodyweight Workout” from ultimatesuperhero workouts.com.

You’d think I would be excited about this pdf — it’s a lot of things I find interesting (morality cartoons, complicated gay mental health villains, strength programming).

If you asked me what emotion I would feel if Katie sent me a fire nation body weight workout, I would predict: excitement.

Instead, I was mad.

“Fuck this,” I texted back, seething.

“Are you kidding me? Azula does zero conditioning work. Absolutely zero. There are so many push-ups in this routine. I don’t believe this for a SECOND.” 

“Okay!” Katie texted back, unperturbed.

 “I think tomorrow I’m going to try to do this. Or maybe just do one single push-up. I haven’t decided yet.”

I was happy for Katie + her push-up. But I was also fixated on the article. For some reason, it consumed me with rage. 

But why?

Weird residual high school martial arts feelings?

The risk of injury that comes with an incorrect push/pull split?

In short: was I mad about this article because of something boring or something embarrassing?

—

In one of Brené Brown‘s books, she tells a story about her husband, who is either named Steve or Marc or Drew. I can’t remember which.

In the story, Brene Brown found something in her research that filled her with rage. Here’s what it was:

Everyone, everywhere, at all times, is doing their best. They’re trying.

Brené Brown read this and was like “what the fuck?”

She didn’t say it quite like that, cursing that much doesn’t really fit into her wine mom linguistics, but it was something pretty close.

Brené Brown, at least in her public facing morality stories, is neurotic. So she confronted her husband Marc or Steve or Joe or Brian about this.

She was like “Can you believe this? Do you really believe that everyone everywhere is trying the best that they can at all times? “

And Steve was like, “Sure. That’s what I believe.”

I don’t remember what Brené Brown said to that, but it was something along the lines of 🤯🤯🤯🤯

—

Here’s what we know about the fire nation royal family’s bodyweight strength programming.Canonically, Iroh did consistent handstand push-ups sets to failure before breaking out of jail. 

(I have no idea how he trained pull in that cell. It keeps me up at night.)

And we see Zuko, after he regains his honor, do a push-up or two.

But not Azula, man. 

That was the whole point of her character arc: when you’re just naturally good at things, and never face any conflict or struggle, you never try.

When you never try, you can’t handle anything except success.

And even when you get success, you never actually deal with anything.

Then eventually: you put all your friends in prison and you go insane (whatever that means).

More importantly: you never do push-ups.

—

So it turns out the reason I was mad at superheroworkouts.com was something both boring AND embarrassing, a special combination.

We’re all the Zuko in our story, right? That’s easy to accept.

Zuko is cool. Honor is cool.

But here’s what also true, what you have to accept, if you accept that Azula did push-ups. 

It means other people aren’t just succeeding casually, even the ones who are jerks. 

If Azula did push-ups, that means anybody I’ve ever considered an obstacle, a nemesis, even temporarily, is also the Zuko in their own story — dealing with their own shit, and trying.

That includes people who seem like they’ve never had to work for success ever in their life, always had things come easy.

Or people I perceive as looking down on me, or were a dick to me for “no reason at all”.

All of those people?

They’re probably doing push-ups too. 

(…Emotional push-ups.)

Which is to say: I don’t know a thing about anybody else’s experience, anyone else’s struggle. 

I don’t know who does push-ups and who doesn’t. 

I don’t know who is the villain or the hero in anybody’s story, even mine.

None of us do.

And that’s okay.

Push-ups are hard. 

Brian (or Jake, or Steve) is right: everyone is trying.

• H

PS — I showed this to a friend who went “PSH!!!!! You’re just gay for a cartoon character.” So take this all with a grain of salt.