Ok guys, in this post I will be as descriptive and realistic as possible. I am trying this to pass a writing test in school, so bear with me. Its about my experience earlier today maxing out in weight class
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As I enter the field house, I am greeted by the usual sights, the pinkish stone tiled floor, the concrete walls, metal entwined windows. It appears to be the atmosphere of a prison or jail, yet there are no bars here except those for weight lifting. I head down the main hallway, my shoes clapping softly against the cold stone floor which reflects the flourescent lights above.
Having no clothes to change into I am forced to perform my lift in blue jeans and a dark blue shirt. I step to the bathroom for a moment then leave the locker room, stopping by the water fountain for a moment to let the cool clear water sooth my dry throat.
I enter the main room for weightlifting. To my left are 6 bench press sets, to my right are 4 power clean sets and 6 squatting racks. The metal gleams like teeth, some of the older sets resembling medievil torture devices. I begin to stretch, the hard, black rubber mats beneath me feel somehow colder than before. I look behind me at the sound of loud talking and see the rest of the class, mainly football players, enter. I stretch myself, first my arms, then my upper body, then legs and lower body. After about 5 minutes I am limber and ready to begin.
We go by ourselves, only needing to get the coachs attention and make sure he sees how much we intend to try before lifting. Today is the last day before Christmas break, so we do bench press today. The first person is Curtis. Though he stands a mere 5'5", he is a literal powerhouse of muscle. With skin, hair, and eyes black as night, yet an odd little half-smile on his face, Curtis is always the class clown. His face wears a mask of seriousness this time as he lies down underneath the steel. He is attempting 315 lbs, by far not an amount to joke around with. He lifts, a moment of tense silence, then he drops it to his chest and begins lifting.
After what seems like hours he manages to get the bar back to its original position. The class cheers him as he wipes the glistening sweat from his brow. I decide to begin my lifts. I ask my spotter for help and put 140 lbs on as a warm-up exercise. I lie down, hoist the bar and lift it. It doesn't take a great deal of straining, just a little exertion of force and its lifted.
As soon as thats done, Roger steps up. Unlike me, Roger has to utterly strain to get it. While 140 was my warmup, to him it was a new level of strenght. We differ in size slightly, me being 6'0" and 150 lbs and him 5'7" and 142 lbs. Still I admire him for benching more than his own body weight. His freckles hidden underneath the redness that shows he truely is exerting strenght, Roger lifts the bar with much effort, finally setting it back down.
Its my turn again and now I need to begin lifting for real. I ask that a 45 lb weight and two 10's be put upon each side (175 lbs) while I go to re-wet my parched throat with water. I return and my bar is waiting for me. Lying down, I fiddle with it for a moment until my hands feel comfortable on the rouch surface. I grit my teeth and lift, the bars rough grips biting into my hands. I pull it down until cold metal touches my chest, then I lift with not only my arms, but my whole body. Using a technique Coach told us, I push my body upwards with my legs, decreasing the effort I must exert. In about 5 seconds, I have the bar back to resting position and sit up.
I look around the room, seeing not the black rubber floor, or the green cushioned bench sets or the menacing steel, but instead I see determination, strenght, and pride. Over in the corner, Victor, the tall, afro-clad basketball player, having missed his squats Tuesday, squats 480 lbs amid much screaming and effort. It makes me proud to be lifting weights with people such as this, who put their entire heart and soul into this very moment.
I am awakened from my daydream by Joby,informing me Coach said I have 2 lifts remaining and I should try for 180 or higher. I snap out of it and walk to my set. I set my weights, a 45, two 10's and a 2.5 lbs weight on each side, totaling 180 lbs. I sit on the bench for a moment to collect myself, this being a nerve-racking time for me. Finally I lay back under the bar and, upon my signal, the spotter hefts the bar and hands it to me.
I feel crushed under the heavy steel, but determination and sheer pride will have none of it. Every muscle in my upper body screams protest as I push with all my strenght to lift the bar. "Lets go Matt, lets go Matt!!" Curtis shouts at me. He is so close He is almost spitting in my ear as he screams. At the very top, my left arm falters and begins to fail, my right one being locked out, but the left one flimsy. With a final yell of frustration, I manage to lock the left arm out and drop the bar back in place with a loud clang.
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