I used to be an angry lifter. I used to try and psyche the holy crap out of myself. You wouldn't see me smile the entire time I was in the gym. PR's were met by scowls and "FUCK YEAH!" and it never felt quite right. Things have changed a bit recently. I started intentionally smiling, finding a "happy place," and it didn't even take a one handed golf veteran to show me the way. Neuro linguistic programming gave me the idea, in essence, by implying we display greater strength when happy than when sad. So I started thinking of the good times in my life when I was at the gym, those moments I really cherish, hugs from loved ones, nights out with close friends, times of seemingly effortless, flawless success despite the odds. and I found my middle ground. Not wise man on the mountain calm, but not bloodthirsty angry. Sure, the happy place I go is a little darker than most, and the archetype is more trickster and savage than enlightened savior, but I find myself enjoying the workout more. It's a strange lycanthropic confidence: knowing I can make the lift, not trying to fight against it. Chalk up, Run my tongue from canine to canine across my incisors, smile, and grab the weight. And win or lose I feel good. Where's your head when you lift?