formats

mighty

In two days, I’ve had two personal lifting records.

The first was a bench press of 115 pounds. My husband was acting as spot, the Kiddo hovering at the other end of the bench watching. It went down, it went up, it was racked. I felt mighty.

And then this morning, I hit my personal goal of breaking a 200 pound deadlift.

Breaking 200 pounds has been a life marker for me for months. To be real, it’s been on my list since I had my first successful deadlift. “This feels great! LET’S GO HIGHER.” I’m not a runner and I never will be. I’ll never get a cute 26.2 sticker to smack on the back of my car, but picking up 200 pounds seemed like a worthy goal, like my personal version of 13.1 miles. It was lofty, but doable.

Over the winter, I worked towards it, breaking 100 pounds, breaking 150. I upped my expectations to breaking 200 pounds by the time I rolled over my 35th birthday in April. With every five pound gain on the bar, I felt a little more smug, a little more certain that it was going to happen.

And I’ll be real, there was a component of magical thinking happening as the days ticked down to my birthday. I would visualize the lift, the events leading up to the lift, even the outfit I’d wear to do the lift. Nutty thinking, but in my heart I just knew my NASA t-shirt and my Batgirl underpants were totally going to help fight gravity, just like I knew my husband was going to be there, holding H-Bomb and shouting encouragement at me as I pulled that enormous weight up, up, up.

My birthday came and went, and I didn’t break 200 pounds. Another week came and went, no 200 pounds. I had my fantastic bench, but I could only manage 135 pounds — my usual working weight — and those 135 pounds felt so heavy. I was disappointed, but tried to keep focused on why I really lift — for myself, for my family, for the hell of it.

When it happened this morning, I wasn’t wearing my NASA shirt or my rainbow knee socks. Adam was upstairs working, and only H-Bomb was around to witness the lift. It wasn’t what I was expecting, it definitely wasn’t how I planned it, but I got it done. The bar went up, the bar went down. I felt mighty.

Bring on 300.