Some people are born with the ability to constantly find
themselves on a smooth path. What I mean by this is that there are people out
there that don’t have to worry about falling. The little effort they produce
could carry them infinite miles. I'm not one of those people.
I’ve played football with guys who could walk into the gym 8
months free-of-working out and they could still squat over 400 pounds. I, on
the other hand, have to grind away every day with the intention of self
improvement. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not upset with having these challenges.
In fact my whole life is saturated to the core with the fundamental idea that who I am at this moment is not who I was created to be.
So in my straining efforts to become a better man I tripped
on a big rock in my path that I should have seen coming. For the past month or
so my hip has been in poor alignment. This has led to knee and ankle aches, but
nothing so drastic that I would have to hang up my belt and call it. In fact I
had recently signed up for my last meet of the year.
I was supposed to pull 560 lbs from a 4 inch block. I did
500 without a belt Shoot, I didn’t even have to get pumped to do it. So I load
the bar with 535 lbs, something I did last week for multiple reps. I get
pumped, yell a little bit, say the Lord’s prayer, children are crying, and then
I get ready to lift. As the bar climbs off the blocks I feel my sacrum (lowest
spin) pop sporadically – pop pop pop pop pop – “What was that?”
I set the bar down and immediately lose feeling in my right
leg. “Great” I thought “I just broke myself.”
I attempted to be a man and I just walked with the hope that feeling would come back. And it did, just not until the next afternoon.
A little research, a quick talk with my uncle the
chiropractor, and some lovely/horrifying myofascial release from my lovely fiancé
and I was able to bench by Wednesday. The theory is that I strained the muscles
in my sacrum, because my hip had finally been forced to fix itself. Normally
this isn’t that bad; the only problem is that I had 535 pounds in my hands –
Joy – By the end of the weekend I was able to jump and run.
So Monday rolls around again and I decide I’m just going to
pull into the 400s. I no-belt my way to 405 and try and do speed pulls.
Although the bar does move up, it was at a snail’s pace rather than a leopard’s.
I belted up and couldn’t even deadlift 455 – let the worries sink in –
it’s not even that it hurt; I just couldn’t get my body to move the weight.
A bit discouraged I decide to do lunges. It is at this
crucial junction that I realize my hamstring is having problems flexing, and
that my hip is nowhere near right. I lunged until my butt cramped, literally.
Then I stretched until my quad cramped. So no I’m weak, broken, and cramping
all over the place.
I don’t know whether or not I will be able to make my September
28th meet. If I do however, this will be a paul-like story straight
from 2 Corinthians 12:7.
In the end the weights don’t matter, God matters.
Sorry about the extra long post, but I didn’t feel like
writing one last week about how I broke my butt. Today’s tips are easy. You can
never have enough mobility or chiropractor visits, and in the end God is all
that matters.
By the way, if you're feeling generous please say a prayer for me. I'm calling on Tribe Endu for some support!
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