Así soy

Friday, July 16, 2010

Dead Calm

Lift is such a happy inspiring word. In dance lift is channeling your energy at an upward angle. So the idea of a "Dead Lift" seems like a terrible contradiction in terms. In fact, it is an oxymoron.

Loads of prior experience
but *loads* of previous experience
Paul decided today that I should try it. Of course, there is lots of preparation in terms of form. The right way to hold the bar, the hinging at the hips, the straight arms, the hip thrust forward as one lifts... I really tried to focus and understand the necessary coordination, but I was distracted by the large wheels on the metal pole. I smiled (PF) and nodded, thinking to myself "he is absolutely fr***ing crazy" and "this will probably hurt and I'll end up paralyzed."

After a few dry runs with a white PVC pipe (and I still had form issues with that,) Paul gestured at the weights on the ground and said (seriously, I am not making this up,) "It will be easier with the weights." (Is this gym humor?)
a challenge to organize
it's a challenge to organize

I gorilla-squatted mentally running a hundred body checks (which is like rounding up a flock of chickens: as soon as I get one muscle tight and ready, the others take off.) I slowly straightened my legs out of the squat and pushed my hips forward.

Voilá! I was standing and holding the bar!! And it wasn't too heavy!! Before I could savor the moment, Paul said, ok stick your ass back and let the weight go back down, etc etc and lots of other technical directions I should have been following.

I repeated this several times. clearly, I looked too thrilled. Paul said, "I think you can do more weight." I smiled and nodded (PF).
ok, so perhaps this is photoshopped...
possibly photoshopped

He put two more large wheels on the bar. This time it took effort. The picking up wasn't so hard, but trying to get it down properly was a struggle. I would rock onto the balls of my feet, or let my quads suck up the stress. I'm sure my shoulders / neck also were doing something unreliable (if they were people they'd give change for a $9 bill using $3's.)

Anyway, by the third set I stood up with the weights and thought, I do not want to put these down. I feel fine right now right where I am, I can hold this for hours. Paul said, let go. I shook my head. He said, drop them. I shook my head again.

He shouted, *#$*@&%!@#!!  Drop them!
         ---No, I'm totally making that up, he did not swear (seriously) (although he did spell p-o-r-n in front of me.)(at a different time, not right then.) I finally started to put it down (all wrong) and he shouted "Open your hands and let go!  Drop it!"

So I did, with lots of apologies. I didn't know that "let go" means open your hands and let lots of weight crash to the floor. I mean, I do now, but hello, I have spent most of my life trying not to drop stuff!

I think Paul was ready to have an aneurysm. Certainly, his eyes were bulging unevenly. He sent me off to row where I endured another character-building moment by launching myself off the seat -bam- down onto the bar. Dignity, confidence and tail-bone somewhat shaken, I finished rowing and drove home to ice.

My first Dead Lift. I think the name is pretty accurate.

No comments:

Post a Comment