A new recovering
benchmark:Bench Press: 315lbs.
Body Weight: 252lbs.
My hand is sore.
I put six 45 pound plates on the 45 pound bar and pushed past the 300 pound barrier my mind had constructed. I was going to settle for 275 pounds again. My friend Drew was pumping iron too. I knew I could trust him for a spot if things went wrong. I knew I was bullshitting myself that I couldn’t handle 315, and so I just did it. I found satisfaction in that. A philosophy of fear doesn’t feel right to me.
Juliet runs indoors during the winter, flying over a whirring treadmill. She was delighted with
Lars & the Real Girl, a movie I’d recommended to her. I think many of my other friends would enjoy this movie too.
A few of us were talking after boxing class Saturday morning. The subject of juicing - e.g., steroids - came up again. Some time ago a couple of teenagers asked me about "supplements." I told them the supplements that work are illegal, and the supplements that are legal don’t work. Our coach Jack overheard that answer and agreed, saying this was good advice.
The trouble with steroids is they work. I’d be a liar if I said I hadn’t been tempted. I can’t handle ‘roid rage. Given my family’s history of mental instability, the last thing my friends need is me juiced. I’d rather be a big, misunderstood teddy bear (waves to
alaria_lyon) than a threat to people I care about.
Previously:
Benchmark.