You know OP, I used to think like you too. As far as I was concerned, lifting was an activity for the unintelligent to feel like they were somehow on the same level or superior to the smart guys. I never did much sport (except badminton, which hardly counts) and had a terrible level of aerobic fitness, but given that I was headed to study Medicine at UEA, I figured that lifting and sport had no part to play in my life.
Then I looked at alot of the guys on my course, and bloody hell did I feel inferior. Not only were they damn smart, but they were athletic and bulked ridiculously. I was tall at 6 ft 4, but lanky and stick thin, so I knew that I had to make some changes if I wanted to feel like an equal.
So I started lifting. I knew how ridiculous it was for someone with essentially no sporting pedigree like myself to be in that sort of environment of testosterone fuelled machismo, and goddamn did I feel self conscious at first, but soon I realised that nobody cared how skinny I was, and that lifting didn't require any sporting talent whatsoever. within 7 months of going about 3 times a week (as well as some casual dumb bell lifting at home) and guzzling some cheap mass gainer after every session, I was fairly big at 90 kg (from 70 kg). People started to notice, and despite myself, I felt damn good.
2 years on, I haven't forgotten what I used to look like, or how I still have very little sporting talent, but however much I try to be ironic about my lifting, I can''t help but linger at the mirrors when I walk past, or flex in the reflections of my windows when I'm home alone.
I worry about what I'm becoming.