“Mortal” is an excuse.
“Mortal” is a wrought iron prison detaining your mind. Tell yourself you’re mortal again, and drop the weight with 3 reps left in the set. Go ahead, nobody will stop you. Succumb to the pain; surrender your empire to the enemy. Go ahead, nobody will stop you. If you find as the weight plummets to the ground; a resounding clank of your defeat, that you didn’t want it anyways – then get up and walk away.
If defeat doesn’t leave a bitter taste lingering on your tongue, then turn your back. Nobody will stop you. Except for you.
You are sharing a body with the enemy; it is lurking around the corner, trying to debilitate you -- waiting to strike. It cannot defeat you if you are not vulnerable. You are not vulnerable if you can stare in the face of pain and push forth. Make the pain cower. Capture the pain and make it a weapon in your arsenal.
It is you and pain against the iron, against crushing gravity.
The ultimatum is yours: surrender to the pain, or become one with it.