Tag Archives: Deadlifts

I’m in It: the Gym and I Can’t Get Out!

Dead It!
I had these crazy doubts after the shift in hormones over the course of a few months.  I felt like I was held hostage by life for a moment while I struggled to regain my whole self again.  It’s now safe to say I’m no longer tear-jerking myself over Grey Anatomy episodes or telling my Partner in Crime I want to marry him as soon as possible.  I may be back to what I know as my normal self, the kind who does none of what I just mentioned.

Okay so my body’s chemistry threw me for a loop and for a long period of time I thought I would just continue getting fat while losing hard-earned muscle.  I thought I would continue eating sugar and wanting to make out with Coke and Tang on a regular basis.  I thought I would never be motivated to workout once more let alone find my inner beast to blaze me back up.

Then one night I said, “Fuck it!” and decided on Monday cardio, and on Tuesday I did even more cardio, except I refused to be a cardio bunny and leave the gym without caressing and groping the weights.  Training arms seemed like a good place to start to see if I could get over my foolish uncertainties of being a weightlifter again.

I wrapped my hand around the dumbbell and performed a One-arm Overhead Tricep Extension and the motion flowed gracefully and every rep became about cherishing each contraction and cherishing the blood surging through my veins and cherishing the pleasant out-and-in-and-in-and-out body experience.  Without a second thought I moved right into barbell bicep curls and lifted the weight passionately as everything I put my heart into.

All in all it came back to me like riding a bike and I couldn’t ask for anything else to accompany me in this moment.  I became alive as day and any thought of pacing myself with exercises, equipment, reps or poundage went right out the gym entrance along with every one of my insecurities and qualms.  I was back at my one true home!

From school I started to head straight to the gym and in my mind I’m in a dark corner in the center of the room because my ego places me there.  I have an imaginary audience yet I tune out the real life folks all around me in the gym like an awful lecture coming from a married-in uncle who tried to molest me once upon of time by cold lust. I.  Just.  Tune.  Everything.  The. Fuck.  Out.

The music that was blaring in my headphones suddenly vanished once I positioned my feet under the barbell square in the middle with a stance almost narrow.  I make no fancy flailing or martial arm movements and I make no thunder roar like a powerlifter.  I remain powerfully silent, looking at both sides from where the stained rings are on the barbell steel and with one hand over and the other hand under I roll the bar so it pushes the excess accumulated calluses towards the rest of my palm so it fits snugly to one side and won’t rip open.

I look straight at the mirror but I don’t even see myself in it. I can see clothes. I can see broad shoulders.  I can feel glorious energy multiplying.  But it’s time to get into that low squat and it’s time to pull the barbell up and on my shins, time to maintain focus to deadlift with my traps, lats and entire posterior chain on mental command so my body does exactly what I desire.  I nail it.  I nail it.  I nail it.  I nail it over and over and over again.  I’m happy like a kid in a candy store like a woman who just achieved her first orgasm by the tongue of a man like a fat kid with a buffet of food.  HAPPY!

At certain moments I pulled and held my breath and then I started to see myself in the mirror.  I could see how ugly I look with a deadly mixture between being a woman, a man and a beast.  I felt my abdominals cave in and tighten itself within as if I were about to get hit by a baseball bat and I continued pulling.  During one of the reps I felt pain bordering by the side of my spine and my mind in quick fear blinked the word danger.

I felt my fingers fatigued and go into a frozen state while my forearm stiffened like I imagine a snake’s body would if it were to be lit by fire and around a tree bark or some human’s neck holding on for treasured life.  I felt my body like this many times before trying to go against me by breaking form.

And all I know is this is how I feel like when I’m all up in Kanye West’s song when he says, “I’m in it and I can’t get out” except he’s talking about orgasms and the lovely things that come along with sex.  However that’s exactly how I feel.

I’m in it and I can’t get out of the gym because it’s my strength and my therapy.  It’s my happy place, my go-to home!  The gym is where I go to deal and/or get rid of my doubts and concerns.  The gym is the place where I continue to forge my character.  The gym gives me my sanity back.  It’s my constant haven, not to mention it’s an orgasm away from an actual orgasm.


Thankfully! 😀



Strong Days, Weak Days, Egging On And Acceptance

You’re going to have strong days and weak days.

Surely, when it comes to life and every single aspect it has to offer you in general.  However in this case, I’ve learned to accept this strong vs weak days truth just like I’ve accepted the system in the United States of America is corrupted beyond means.  But, yes, I’m talking about the many episodes of my Training Life.

What’s interesting enough is there are still days and nights where I want to go against myself and the acceptance of naked reality when there’s someone egging me on quite in the way groups will instigate an all out brawl in High School.  (But maybe that was my High School and not to be confused with yours?)

There are moments of betrayal even when I know how hard I should or shouldn’t push myself.  Even when I’ve kept to close examination and intuition of my own body.  I know when I’m feeling weak as a person who’s lost their will before they even began a weight-loss or school program and I also know when I’m feeling army strong and can take on all the planets in the solar system.

Last night I wasn’t completely weak.

I noticed on numerous occasions, on the days I’ve let out shit loads of emotions externally (mostly anger) that by the time evening falls and when it’s my time to shine I can’t gain that lost energy back.  So it’s tremendously vital for me not to waste precious exertion on anyone or anything.  But there are good days when every street corner presents a red light to drivers so you can cross.  And than there are bad days where the beauty of the sky becomes a state of hell.  I can’t promise myself to be a saint when it comes to maintaining composure at all times.  But I can try.

So I started with Box Squats (which I’ve never performed in my life).  Did 5 sets of those.  I moved right into Military Presses than came Deadlifts.  Typically I warm up with 135lbs (doesn’t everyone?) and increased.  When I did my reps for 175lbs (grip: double-handed) I felt that it was tough as oppose to last week when it felt light as a feather.  Up to 195lbs, (making a snow-white of a mess with chalk because I like being dirty) still came off like a struggle.

My personal record is 210lbs for 4 reps.  However with the way I felt last night I knew I wasn’t going to hit that mark or even break a fucking record.  I told my partner in crime, “I don’t have it in me.  I don’t even want to do those 5 goddamn reps for 205lbs.”  He went on, “You got it.  Let’s go.”

I did 2 reps.
It seemed fairly easy.
I counted 10 inhales.
Got another rep in.
Both my entire hands hurt.
I grimaced in pain.
Is this chalk not working? 😉
I shook it off.
Once.  Maybe twice.
No more buying time.

Partner in crime says,
“You’re almost there.  You got it.”

But deep down inside I’m fucking scrambling.
My normal chants in my mind aren’t working.
I searched around the gym for strength.
I’m sweating under my own pressure.
15 inhales/exhales later.
I get the 4th rep up.
My grunt is even louder.
It comes from the womb I believe?

And once the dead weight comes to it’s deadness.
I crouched down and shuddered.. at knowing the 5th rep is a no go.
I still refused to admit defeat of any kind.
Partner In Crime is saying,
“You got it.  You got it.”

20 inhales later.
I make the first attempt to my 5th rep.
Not even halfway up I crashed the weight back down.
I felt pitiful while trying to keep composure.
But I make no mention out loud.

Partner in crime with his odd words of encouragement:
“You’re not giving up that easy.”
As I walked away from the barbell.
Smacking my hands together in anger.
Powder flourishes in the air.
I shake my brain this time.
I snapped, “I’m not!”

I attempted another rep after 15 inhalations.
With my body trembling,
I pulled more than halfway this time…

And I want to make it for me.
I want to make it for him.
I want to make it for every Fitness Family Member I know.
I want to make it for every woman.
I want to make it for my aggression.
I want to make it for everything I stand for.
But I didn’t have it.
And even though I had someone egging me on.
On one of my weak days.
And though I kept pushing.
Betraying my body.

I was reminded by nearly injuring myself.
To stop.
Even if my partner didn’t know any better or know my body.
Because my form was crumbling.
Because my struggle quivered in my sneakers.
Because it occurred during my anger..
Of not getting the last rep where I needed it to be..
When I know in every shred of my being
I’m fucking stronger than this.

Years ago I’d get depressed and mope.
But now I understand how you have to handle your business.
By handle I mean:  GIVE IT YOUR ALL!
Because sometimes it’s going to be one of those weak days.
Even when you’re mentally:  One-hundred percent.
So accept it!