Praus: The Warhorse in the Room

There's a Greek word. Most people haven't heard it. The ones who have usually think it means something it doesn't.

Praus (πραΰς). It gets translated as "meek." Which, if you're picturing a soft-handed vicar in sandals, I understand the confusion. But you've got it wrong.

It means strength under control. Not a broken spirit— a trained one. Like a warhorse that's been broken, not to be weak, but to be powerful on purpose. The kind of creature that could flatten you, but won't. Because it knows exactly what it's doing.

That's praus.

And if you're sat at a desk right now, staring at a screen, wondering why you feel like you're winging everything while everyone else seems to have figured it out—listen, because this is where the gym comes in.

Not for the six-pack. Not for the 'gram. For this.

Clarity: What the Barbell Teaches You That Slack Doesn't

You know that fog you carry around at 2pm when you've been in meetings since 9? That thick, head-full-of-static feeling where you're technically awake but cognitively comatose?

Yeah. That's not a caffeine problem.

That's a you're-not-using-your-body problem.

Research from Tsai et al. (2014, Frontiers in Behavioral Neuroscience) shows that a single session of resistance training—even just 40 minutes—significantly improves reaction times, accuracy, and executive function. Not tomorrow. After.

Your brain responds to the stress of lifting the same way it responds to solving hard problems: by getting betterat focusing. The barbell is just compound interest on your cognitive capital.

And here's the thing about clarity that nobody talks about in wellness magazines: you don't get it by resting more. You get it by using your body the way it was designed. The Greeks knew this. Aristotle would've laughed at hot-desk yoga. The Stoics put their philosophy into action—walk, train, do.

Clarity isn't a state of calm. It's the result of a body that's been spent and rebuilt. You earn it.

No Imposter Syndrome: The Warhorse Knows What It Can Do

Here's where it gets dark. And Northern.

You've spent years building something. A career. A skill. A reputation. And some days you still feel like someone's going to tap you on the shoulder and say "we need to talk." The whole thing feels borrowed. Fortunate. Unearned.

I know. Me too.

But then there's the other thing: you also know exactly what you can squat. And deadlift. And press. Not because someone told you. Because you've done the work. You've felt your body respond. You've built something in the gym that nobody can give you and nobody can take away.

That confidence doesn't stay in the gym.

Liu-Ambrose et al. (2010, Archives of Internal Medicine) found that 12 months of consistent resistance training produces measurable improvements in executive function. Soga et al. (2018) confirmed these benefits across inhibitory control, working memory, and cognitive flexibility. The brain changes when you train.

So here's the question: why would you walk into a high-stakes meeting feeling like a fraud, when you've literally got proof—in muscle and bone—that you can set a goal, do the work, and get the result?

The imposter syndrome doesn't vanish. But it gets quieter. Because you've got evidence now. The warhorse knows what it can do. And it doesn't care what the others in the paddock think.

Focus: The Stoic's Discipline, The Athlete's Flow

The Stoics had a word for it: encrateia. Mastery over oneself. The ability to restrain the self from within—not because you're weak, but because you're strong enough to hold back.

That's praus again.

In the gym, you've learned to control the impulse to bail. To show up when you're tired. To push when every fibre says stop. To breathe through the hard set. This isn't passive. This is active restraint, practiced under load.

Now apply that to a Tuesday afternoon when you've got three problems stacked and the stakes are high. The code's broken. The deadline's real. The pressure's on.

You don't flinch. You've trained for this. Not metaphorically—physiologically. Your cortisol regulation improves with consistent training (Chow et al., 2021, Sports Medicine). Your nervous system learns to handle stress without spiralling.

You've got focus because you've got control. Power under it. Not fighting it. Not running from it. Wielding it.

That's the gift the gym gives you, if you let it. Not bigger arms. A bigger capacity to stay you when everything around you is on fire.

The Call

So here's the thing.

You can keep reading about focus. About imposter syndrome. About clarity. You can save the tab. Share it with someone who'll nod and move on.

Or you can do something about it. Not someday. Not Monday. Tonight.

The gym isn't a vanity project. It's a training ground. For your body, yes. But more than that—for everything else. For the career you want, the confidence you need, the focus you can't find in another productivity app.

Go the fuck to the gym.

Because the warhorse that knows its own strength doesn't need to prove anything to anyone. It just shows up, does the work, and holds its power under control.

That's praus.

Now move.