Soooo, yesterday was Deadlift Day. Beefcake’s day. A day for me to attain a goal, which I have been chasing since about day 10. That goal is to deadlift 400lbs. I WAS READY! It was gonna happen. I have never been so sure about anything in my entire life. Quite honestly, I had expectations of about 430lbs. Why? Cause the deadlift is designed for me. Ain’t nothin fancy, fast, or pretty about it. Bend over, grab huge weight, stand up. The biggest requirement? ASS. I have ass. Huge ass. Big, bulbous, protruding, ass. Beautiful, fat ass. The slapping kind. You outta see it. I digress. So, under the instruction of my man, Coach John Brown, I begin ascending in weight to reach my 1 rep max. As I increased my weight, I was feeling worse and worse. I got to 385 and it was HARD, and I was seeing stars when I dropped it. My attempt at 400lb was anti-climatic to say the least. The most exciting part was my post attempt rant, of an intelligently constructed, string of curse words, at the top of my lungs, while scanning the area for something to break, kick, or throw. “Muther f–ker, g-d damn, shit, f-ck, son of a bitch!!”. This is not unusual. That is why I love this place. I feel fairly certain that John and Von keep a tranquilizer gun in the office, because they know that I am capable of ramming my gargantous head through every inch of sheet rock in the place, and then moving on to the tenants next door, like a modern day fairy tale of an overgrown baby with a huge melon. I also, think that I heard John yell, “Omaha” to Katie, which I believe is a safe word to let her know that I have reached maximum pissed-off-ittude, and to command her to load the tranquilizer dart. BTW- Katie Brown is John’s wife. I love her dearly. She is my ideal woman. She is a friend, therapist, relationship advisor, day planner, life coach, and my biggest cheerleader. She is also the only woman I know, that I can, quite literally, call a mother f-cker as I storm out of the gym one day, and slap a high five, on the way back in the gym, the next day, no questions asked. She is a wonderful mother and a fantastic person. Also, she happens to be stronger than hell. Which.I.love.
The workout proceeding our 1 rep max was:
3 Rounds for Time
21 Deadlifts at body weight (250lbs)
9 Box Jumps (Step ups)
I did terrible, felt terrible, no gas, no energy, had to lighten my weight, took forever, embarassed, worthless, fat, weak, disgusting, and wasting my time with all of this crap. You feel me? I bet you do.
I once read a quote by Ben Franklin, or Homer Simpson, actually I don’t know who said it, and I might have made it up, but it’s true. It is as follows:
“Oft times, the difference between miserable and wonderful is a good night’s sleep”
Truer words have never been spoke. ***SIDE NOTE– Actually, truer words have been spoke. You know the commercials where Sam Elliot exclaims, “BEEF…its whats for dinner”? That is TRUTH. END OF SIDE NOTE*** Anyways, this morning was a new day. Back in the gym for some gymnastics practice, where I walked nearly the entire distance of the gym on my hands. Unbelievable. I also had a friend of mine, Susan Stout pay me the most sincere compliment, and I decided to graciously accept it, BECAUSE I needed to hear it, AND Susan ain’t no bullsh*tter. She had not seen me in quite sometime and she told me that I appeared very fit, and much more slim. Today, I choose to accept that. The workout was “HELEN” which is:
21 KB Swings w 53lbs
Big Boy was smokin! I have been doing everything that John and Von recommended and my 400’s were like ice, very choppy, slushing, jiggling ice, but ice, nonetheless. My calous ripped in the middle of the 2nd round of pullups and I had to do ring rows (Booo), but life could be worse. To be able to compete in that WoD at 250lbs is something I would have never deemed feasible.
Yesterday, was my entire identity, even that above being a father, a friend, a good son, a child of God, really contingent upon the 15lb difference in a deadlift? Did 385lbs make me a failure at EVERY aspect of my life, whereas 400lbs would have made me a complete being? When I walked into a room of people, were they going to see Wilson, the weak, fat, bastard, who cannot achieve his goals? The guy who will probably never do it anyway, so why pay him any attention? The dude who is never gonna get laid again, because he is 15 deadlift pounds too small? At the time, I truly felt this way. I aint real smart, but if I heard you talk like that…I would slap the shit out of you, and that is not a saying. I WOULD SLAP THE SH*T OUT OF YOU! I don’t think that I would be able to see the ridiculousness of my thoughts, if not for this blog. Coach John and Coach Von, I love you both very much…and look forward to violently cursing both of you, while breaking your sh*t on my bad days, and giving you bear hugs on my good ones.
Peace, Love, and All things Beef related.