Monday, November 18, 2013

It is heavy.

Childhood 

I have a vivid memory of my childhood kitchen table broken - on the ground somehow, tipped over.  It was large, brown and oval.  I remember it had something to do with my parents.  Did they fight over something?  Did one of them tip it over?  Maybe it was the same night - or a different night - but I also remember seeing strangers, police officers, in my house.  Why were they there?  Who are they?

Middle

I would lay on my side on the bed, squishing my belly fat.  I wondered if weight just accumulated over the years until eventually you became big and fat like the big and fat people I would sometimes see. 

Not that long ago

I lay down on the ground, sobbing, by my chemistry books.  My ears are ringing from screaming, my throat is coarse.  Fighting, screaming with my ex-husband.  I had the philosophy of 'if you hurt me, I will show you how much you hurt me by hurting you' and he had the philosophy of 'I can say the worst things to you, but without screaming them - you will be considered the bad guy'.  It didn't work.

Now 

I rest the barbell on the front of my shoulders, elbows up, and a few fingers balancing it and keeping it pressed against my neck, over my center of gravity.  I am ready to front squat.  I walk the bar out - my hips and spinal cord carrying the full weight of it.  My abs are braced, my glutes are ready.  It's heavy. 

As I lower the weight down - it reminds me of all the weight that a person can carry in their day. Their children, spouses, issues.  It is heavy.  My legs are strong and I do not falter. 

The weight is delicately balanced, with a few fingers holding on to it.  At any moment I could let it go - let it tip forwards.  

With balance, coordination, and strength I lift it up.  It is heavy - and I will eventually go heavier. But, at this moment - this is my 'one rep max' and it is the heaviest thing I can lift.  Nothing outside the gym weighs any heavier than this.  It is heavy - but I am strong.