Growing Stronger as We Age: Pain, Perception, and Possibility

One of my new favorite terms is benign masochism. Coined by psychologist Paul Rozin, it describes the human tendency to enjoy or at least embrace experiences that initially feel unpleasant but are, in fact, safe—think hot chili peppers, cold plunges, or pushing ourselves through a hard workout. It’s the paradox of finding growth inside discomfort.

This concept has given me a fresh lens on something we often forget: the body can actually perform at a rate far greater than what our mind initially tells us. The burn in our muscles or the heaviness in our breathing isn’t always a “stop” sign, it’s often a threshold marker. With awareness, we can learn to recognize the pain, log it, and file it away not as a barrier, but as information.

The ancients knew something about this. The Stoics wrote about phantasia kataleptikē, or “graspable impressions.” For them, training the mind meant learning to perceive reality clearly and not be misled by fear or false appearances. Pain in training was an impression, not a verdict. The Spartans embodied this discipline through their agōgē, where young men learned to endure discomfort and reframe it as strength, not suffering. In both philosophy and practice, pain was not the enemy, it was the teacher.

Fast forward to today, and most of us are not Spartans. We’re not preparing for battle. But the principle remains incredibly relevant, especially as we age. Yes, our bodies do change, muscle mass can decline, recovery takes longer, and we may never again run or lift as we once did. But our mind’s ability to reinterpret pain and push gently against limits remains remarkably plastic. With proper, gradual training and a mindset rooted in consistency, we can expand what feels possible.

This isn’t about chasing heroics. It’s about the practical victories of everyday strength: lifting a big bag of dog food without hesitation, carrying a five-gallon jug of water up the stairs, or hoisting our grandkids into the air with joy instead of strain. These moments are the real markers of a graceful, resilient aging process.

What benign masochism teaches us is that the small discomforts, the controlled burn of resistance training, the discipline of consistency, the patience of recovery, are not threats. They are the steppingstones that allow us to move through life with dignity and capacity. The Spartans and Stoics would recognize this truth: our strength lies not in avoiding hardship, but in reframing it.

Aging gracefully, then, isn’t about decline. It’s about rediscovering the power of the mind-body partnership. Pain becomes feedback, effort becomes resilience, and training becomes a lifelong act of courage. In that sense, we may not be superheroes, but we can still be strong enough to carry what matters most.