by Mark Love, HKC, ACE
I trained today. The main lift I did was the deadlift. For my last set, I used 315 pounds, for three repetitions. This is not a lot of weight, regardless of whether we talk about absolute strength or relative strength. Plenty of men a good deal older than me can do better; hell, plenty of women can do better. 315 x 3 is not even close to my lifetime PR (and even that number is no big deal). So, you might think it odd that I pumped my fist and felt like King for a Day.
I trained today. The main lift I did was the deadlift. For my last set, I used 315 pounds, for three repetitions. This is not a lot of weight, regardless of whether we talk about absolute strength or relative strength. Plenty of men a good deal older than me can do better; hell, plenty of women can do better. 315 x 3 is not even close to my lifetime PR (and even that number is no big deal). So, you might think it odd that I pumped my fist and felt like King for a Day.
You see, it was the first time in a very long time I deadlifted any amount of weight that started with the number three. There was a long spell during which I never did the lift at all (mistaken training philosophies). Then there were setbacks, the kind that leave one with a broken body, and for longer than I like to think about, a broken spirit. So, modest as the performance was, it was something of a big deal for me.
Now, you might wonder, why am I going on about all of this? (I, like a lot of introverts, would rather have my teeth pulled sans Novocain than talk about myself.) Well, I got to thinking that maybe other people could relate. Maybe one of you has been through a tough time—maybe you're still in it. If so, let me tell you, I saw bits of my old, best self today—bits I'd not thought lost, but forgot existed. I saw a glimpse of a guy who used to be a pretty fierce competitor, who used to take pride in achievement. And I left that workout so happy I found myself doing things I sometimes forget to do: I smiled more, offered more compliments, listened a little better.
So, if you can relate to any of this, I humbly offer one piece of advice: go create a victory for yourself. It doesn't matter if the performance is still way off what you used to do; it only matters that it's better than you've been doing. And it doesn't matter what kind of victory—it might be that you smile at people more, or tell someone who needs to hear it that you love them, or you put down the Double Stuff Oreos and eat some real food, or maybe you go lift something kinda, sorta, a little bit heavy.
So, if you can relate to any of this, I humbly offer one piece of advice: go create a victory for yourself. It doesn't matter if the performance is still way off what you used to do; it only matters that it's better than you've been doing. And it doesn't matter what kind of victory—it might be that you smile at people more, or tell someone who needs to hear it that you love them, or you put down the Double Stuff Oreos and eat some real food, or maybe you go lift something kinda, sorta, a little bit heavy.
It might feel like that victory is a one-off. Maybe, but maybe not. It was only six weeks ago, that I didn't even attempt the clean and press test at my DVRT certification, because the pain in my hip kept me from generating enough force to do the workout (don't worry, Coach Fury, I will not let you down—I'll submit my video soon). Now, I'm picking up more weight than I had in a long, long time (and I had more in the tank!). Next thing you know, you'll be doing bigger stuff, too.
I hope this comes off a lot closer to helpful than to self-indulgent (because, damn, it really feels self-indulgent to this ISTJ). If you made it all the way through, thanks for your time.
-Mark Love
Mark Love has trained clients from teens to 80s, homemakers to (multiple time) world champion squash players, in and around Philadelphia for the last 18 years. He is certified with ACE, TRX, and has recently become a proud HKC, working toward his RKC. When not training clients or himself, he lives as the introvert he is, reading everything he can get his hands on, listening to a ridiculous amount of music, and finding clever ways to sneak out of social engagements. You can reach Mark via email at: markjlove@mac.com
-Mark Love
Mark Love has trained clients from teens to 80s, homemakers to (multiple time) world champion squash players, in and around Philadelphia for the last 18 years. He is certified with ACE, TRX, and has recently become a proud HKC, working toward his RKC. When not training clients or himself, he lives as the introvert he is, reading everything he can get his hands on, listening to a ridiculous amount of music, and finding clever ways to sneak out of social engagements. You can reach Mark via email at: markjlove@mac.com
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