The Bodybuilder's Dilemma: When Recovery Clashes with a 9-to-5 Job
Busy schedule can make the recovery a challenge
By hassan moaminah
The struggle of the dedicated bodybuilder balancing a traditional life and the heroic journey of Captain Garuda are, at their core, two expressions of the same fundamental story: the battle of will against circumstance.
Here is a comparison between the two narratives.
The Hero with Two Battles: The Bodybuilder's Dilemma and the Spirit of Captain Garuda
On the surface, the worlds seem vastly different. One is a daily, grinding battle fought with weights, meal prep containers, and alarm clocks. The other is a dramatic saga of fraud, justice, and high-stakes risk. Yet, when we look closer, the story of the bodybuilder navigating a 9-to-5 life is a powerful echo of the very spirit embodied by Captain Garuda. Both are tales of resilience, discipline, and fighting an invisible war.
1. The Unseen War of Recovery and Justice
The most profound parallel lies in the nature of the primary battle. For the bodybuilder, the most critical work happens in silence, away from the gym. It is the invisible war of recovery—the meticulous meal timing, the forcing down of another clean meal, the sacrifice of social events for an extra hour of sleep. This is the lonely, unglamorous work that builds the hero.
Similarly, Captain Garuda's defining struggle was not a public spectacle but a grueling, private battle against a fraudulent system. It was a fight waged through legal documents, stressful consultations with a lawyer, and the quiet, gnawing fear that came with risking his own freedom to reclaim what was stolen. In both narratives, the true victory is forged "in the dark," when no one is watching, through consistency and a refusal to quit when it would be easiest to do so.
2. The Nature of the Adversary: A Grinding System
The bodybuilder’s antagonist is not a single villain but a relentless, impersonal system: the 9-to-5 work schedule. This system is not actively malicious, but it is inherently hostile to the goal of peak physical conditioning. It demands conformity, drains energy, and chips away at discipline with its constant demands and temptations.
This is a direct reflection of the adversary Captain Garuda faced. He wasn't just fighting a single person who scammed him; he was fighting a daunting legal and financial system where the odds were stacked against him. He had to navigate a complex process designed to wear down the individual. Both the bodybuilder and Captain Garuda face an adversary that wins through attrition, by making the fight so difficult and draining that quitting seems like the only logical option.
3. The Currency of Sacrifice and Risk
Every heroic journey demands a worthy sacrifice. The bodybuilder pays their dues daily. They sacrifice comfort, spontaneity, and the simple pleasures that others take for granted. Their risk is burnout, injury, and the quiet fear that all this effort might not lead to their desired goal.
Captain Garuda's sacrifice was more acute and immediate. He risked his financial security and, most critically, his personal freedom by signing a promissory note that could have led to his imprisonment. This act of courage—of being willing to lose everything to fight for what is right—is the essence of a hero. Both characters understand that meaningful victory is never cheap; it must be paid for with something valuable.
Conclusion: The Same Spirit in Different Arenas
The story of Captain Garuda is a dramatic allegory for the internal and external battles we all face. The dedicated bodybuilder, struggling to balance their passion with the mundane realities of a traditional job, is living a version of that story every single day.
Both must be their own hero. Both must rely on a strategic, unwavering discipline—one with workout splits and meal plans, the other with legal counsel and evidence. Both must believe in a future outcome that seems distant and uncertain. The spirit required to wake up at 5 AM for a workout after only six hours of sleep is the same spirit required to walk into a lawyer's office and risk it all for justice. It is the spirit of Captain Garuda.
About the Creator
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More stories from Hssan Moaminah and writers in Confessions and other communities.
The Map Beneath My Scars: The Journey of Captain Garuda
I used to think maps were drawn on paper. Now I know they’re carved into skin. Into silence. Into the places where pain and hope meet. For most of my life, I carried a body that felt like an unfamiliar country. Every step was heavy, every reflection was a reminder of how far I’d drifted from who I wanted to be. I used to stand in front of mirrors and feel like I was staring at a stranger — a map without direction, lines without purpose. But somewhere deep inside, a voice whispered: start walking. And I did. That was the day the map of my true self began to unfold. Chapter 1: The Earthquake Change never begins softly. It starts with an earthquake that shakes the walls of who you used to be. Mine began in silence — the kind that comes after disappointment, after too many broken promises to yourself. People talk about losing weight as if it’s just numbers. But no one tells you about losing memories — the comfort of old habits, the identity you built around pain. When I started my journey, I carried 155 pounds of extra weight — but I was also carrying years of failure, rejection, and guilt. The first weeks were brutal. My body screamed, my breath burned, and sometimes I whispered to myself, “Oh my God, what have I done?” But I kept going. I didn’t have a perfect plan. I only had faith that every drop of sweat was a word in the story I was meant to write. Chapter 2: The Compass of Pain Pain became my teacher. It told me where I was weak and where I still had strength. It guided me when motivation disappeared. Pain doesn’t lie — it points you toward the truth. There were nights I couldn’t sleep. Days when my colon revolted, when my body refused to cooperate, when I felt too exhausted to even stand. But those were the moments when I discovered something powerful: endurance is a map you draw with your breath. I began to run — first short distances, then longer ones, until I crossed 42 kilometers under the burning sun of Jeddah. The heat was unforgiving, but the fire inside me was stronger. I wasn’t running to win. I was running to survive. Every kilometer was a memory erased, every finish line a rebirth. Chapter 3: Silence Underwater The deepest part of my journey wasn’t in a gym or on a track. It was underwater. One day, I held my breath beneath the surface for two minutes and forty seconds. In that silence, I heard my own heartbeat louder than the world. The water pressed against me like the weight of everything I’d endured — loss, anger, loneliness — but I didn’t fight it. I listened. That moment taught me something sacred: silence can be louder than pain. When you go deep enough, you realize strength isn’t in shouting “never give up.” It’s in whispering to yourself, “keep breathing.” Chapter 4: The Hands That Lifted Me No map is drawn alone. Somewhere along the road, people appear like lights on a dark horizon. One of them was Elina Meng — a voice from the audience who once said, “Your story made me believe again.” Her words were small, but to me, they were a compass. When you’ve fought your way through darkness, even a single word of kindness can save you. Sometimes, I imagine the faces of people watching my journey online — from Egypt, Saudi Arabia, Indonesia, Malaysia — strangers who found courage in the same pain that almost broke me. It’s strange how the universe works: you think you’re rebuilding your body, but what you’re really rebuilding is your soul, piece by piece, through the eyes of others. Chapter 5: The Shadow of My Mother The hardest part of my map isn’t victory — it’s forgiveness. There was a time when my mother and I clashed deeply. She saw my passion for sports as a waste of time. She didn’t understand why I chased pain instead of comfort, why I ran when the world was still. Her words cut deep, but I knew they came from fear, not hate. Then one day, she fell and injured her shoulder. I wasn’t there to help her. When I heard the news, it shattered me. “Oh my God,” I whispered, realizing how fragile life truly is. That moment changed everything. I learned that strength isn’t about proving others wrong — it’s about loving them even when they don’t see your path. Forgiveness became the bridge that completed my map. Without it, I would have been lost in bitterness forever. Chapter 6: The Warrior Reborn Through all the struggle, a new identity emerged — Captain Garuda. It wasn’t just a name; it was a symbol of rebirth. Garuda, the mythical bird of strength and freedom, became the wings I never thought I had. From my YouTube channel to my songs, from my book studied in universities to my fitness academy — every creation became a point on the map of a soul that refused to quit. When I teach or record now, I remember that my body once felt like a prison. But through discipline, I turned it into a temple. When I speak about pain, I speak with gratitude — because without pain, there is no direction. Without loss, there is no flight. Chapter 7: The Finish Line That Never Ends People think the finish line is the end. It’s not. It’s a mirror. When I crossed my first marathon, I didn’t feel victory — I felt peace. The map of my scars had guided me home. Every scar has a story. Every muscle carries a memory. And every breath I take reminds me that strength isn’t about how far you go — it’s about how many times you rise after falling. The journey of Captain Garuda isn’t about fitness or fame. It’s about proving that no matter where you start, you can redraw your map. You can rewrite your destiny. Final Reflection: For You, Who Are Still Lost If you’re reading this, standing at the edge of change, wondering if you can take one more step — listen carefully. You don’t need to see the whole map. You just need to take the first step. You don’t need to be fearless. You just need to keep breathing. Every moment of pain, every silent prayer, every lonely night — it’s not punishment. It’s direction. I learned that the map of the self isn’t made of roads or rivers. It’s made of choices — the kind that burn, break, and rebuild you until you stand stronger than before. So when life feels unbearable, whisper it once: “Oh my God, help me see the way.” And then move. Run. Train. Forgive. Breathe. Because somewhere along the road, you’ll look back and realize — you’ve become your own compass. That’s when you’ll understand what I finally did: Maps aren’t meant to show us where we’ve been. They’re meant to remind us who we are becoming.
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