The bar stares me in the face. It is cold, rough, and stiff as I place my calloused hands around it. Today I will do the same thing I have done everyday for the past year: snatch and clean & jerk.
I do some box jumps and and a couple double unders to get the blood pumping to my legs. The room is cool, with some chill music playing softly in the background. It’s just another day at the gym.
After stretching and warming up I slide on my high knee socks that will protect my shins from the wrath of the bar, and next my bright red adidas shoes. I tape my thumbs, tighten my wrist wraps, and slather chalk all over my hands. My coach threatens to make me clean the gym, so I put down the chalk bucket and get ready to lift.
Starting with the tens I do a couple quick reps. This is my chance to fix any technical errors before the bar gets heavy. As the weight goes up, I have to get into more of a routine before each lift. I take a sip of water, chalk my hands, shrug my shoulders, and stomp my feet out as if catching an imaginary bar. My hands grip the bar and my back tightens. There is no doubt in my mind that I will make this lift. I raise my head and find a focal point to stare at.
Shoulders tight, back tight, and heels pushing hard against the floor I start to pull the bar. The bar doesn’t want to move, so I add more force. The bar scrapes my shins and out-turned knees on its way up. It gets to my hip crease, and I hesitate a second longer before I begin the second pull under the bar. The bar is motionless; it sits in the air right where I left it.
My feet move out with a bang and I dive under the bar to catch. My chest is parallel with the wall and my shoulders are flexed. The bar is solid in my grip and I will not let it go. As I stand up I let out a breath relief. The bar stays above me a second longer, before I slam it to the ground with a satisfied grin on my face. My coach walks over and gives me a high five before telling me what I need to fix for next time.
The battle continues everyday with that barbell. It never gets lighter, I just get stronger. Some days the bar defeats me and I leave with my head hanging low. Some days I reign victorious, beating my own personal records and doing what I never imagined I could. Either way, every time I walk out of the gym I leave motivated to be better the next day.
Weightlifting is a metaphor for life. The whole point is to overcome obstacles and better yourself in the process. The goal isn’t to know everything, or to be able to lift all the weights in the world; the goal is find your physical and mental limits then to push past them!
It is a lifelong pursuit to become the greatest you can be.
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