Edit: I’m getting hits from teamliquid.net, does anyone know why?
Today I felt great benching. I hit up my medial scapular border with a lacrosse ball pre-workout so my shoulder extension and internal rotation were in pretty good shape. I warmed up with 135 –> 185 –> 220 –> 245, and 245 felt ez enough that I figured that this would be the day that I benched 270lbs x 3 for the first time in a while. I completed 265 x 3 a few weeks ago, but since then have been stagnant and have either barely managed 255lbs or failed 260lbs. Today I took down 270lbs x 2, which is leaps and bounds better than I have been doing in the past few bench sessions. I asked a trainer at the gym for a spot for this set, and it took me a solid 4-5 seconds to grind out the second rep. He was unimpressed. Part of me hoped that he didn’t think I was asking for a spot because I thought he would be impressed with the dickhead Asian “benching a lot for his bodyweight.”
He went back to training his client, and I dropped down to my back-off set at 260, figuring that if worse came to worst, I could just terminate the set once it felt like I was going to failure. A 14 year old girl was waiting on her mom to finish her workout, texting on her phone – this will have relevance at the end of the story.
I took 260 out of the rack, benched it for two reps, the second was slow but I didn’t think I stalled too hard, so I took a breath and took the bar back down for my third. I got it off my chest, took it to the sticking point, but instead of grinding through, it stopped, and began to come back down. I didn’t panic – having failed many, many reps before, I thought I was adept at dumping weights and looking like a dickhead.
I tilted the bar, but the well-made competition-style bench was too wide, and I couldn’t tilt my torso or drop my shoulder enough to dump one side of the bar. I dipped left, then right, and all I got was the plates on one side to slide a little. The bar was crushing my diaphragm. If it had cantilevered towards my neck, I wouldn’t be typing this. I couldn’t breathe and was basically suffocating. The trainer saw me about fifteen to twenty seconds later and saved me from what should have been my death. I said thanks and began to unload the bar.
“What do you want on here?” he asked.
“I’m done,” I said, and he grinned in response, because he thought I was an idiot. Justifiably so. “Good idea, right?”
The 14 year old girl was standing 20 feet away while all this happened, and she didn’t move from her spot. This is not a criticism of her. She – rightfully – didn’t give a fuck if I was going to die or not.
Today’s MopeWOD: come close to your sweet release from this mortal coil. Live with the shame of having someone save you from your self-imposed doom.
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i def agree with the tragic family shit and people just hiding there feels. w/e. ive been thru some tough shit BRB best friend shooting himself in front of whole platoon and i BRB shitty deployments with mutitlated/ dead people/marines. but honestly who the fuck am i? some ass that went thru for like a year of my life what a third world kid grew up in and will die in. im not special that’s why literally i don’t talk about it. not to my wife or the few people I see or am forced to see (with the exception of drunkin nights w buddies that went thru it AND mope WOD).
that’s why fat people who think they are entitled make me fucking sick. or just most people in general make me sick. who the fuck do you think you are? your nothing. your not special and your life means absolutely nothing. Then I go off on a rant and remind myself that I’m acting like Walter off of big Lebowski.
blogging about suicide and killing cashiers and harpooning fat people. If you have your finger in a dam, are you brave enough to take it out???
I am not going to keep my finger in this clenching butt hole forever.
Brent i swear if you stop blogging i will find you and mob your right vastus medialis so hard that i’ll put you in a wheelchair for 10 months. That’s the precise amount of time where you hope and even look forward to recupperating. but when the last week comes around you’ve no desire to start all of the pain and torment of lifting all over again. You will live out the rest of your days as a fucking cripple eating 600g of refined carbs and watching Yu Yu Hakusho until you die, sad and alone at the age of 34.
Check your blogging privilege.
Dub or sub? Subbed Yu Yu Hakusho would be fucking badass.
Everyone tells me that I should be happy and frankly it gets fucking annoying. Its not like I can turn on some kind of happy switch and be happy. The only person who hasn’t told me to be happy is the girl I like and shes now going out with her ex boyfriend.
Fill your life with emptiness. Like a powerlifting “career.”
How do you feel about the fact that there is another Olympic-weightlifting Asian who is named Brent, except he qualified for Nationals in his first year of lifting and cleaned 300 lbs yesterday?
By the time chad Vaughn was 26, he’d already been to the Olympics. I’m 27 and I write for a floundering blog with unfulfilled potential.