Workout: FAIL!!

Twelve years. That's how long I've been focusing, on a consistent basis, on my physical health and working out in the gym. I had worked out while in high school and college, but was always a little intimidated by the weight room and always let it slide from my schedule if I didn't have someone to "hold my hand," so to speak. For most of these 12 years, I've had a workout partner. Someone to chat with, hold me to my workouts, push me for that last little bit of effort, etc.

As of late, however, I've been on my own. My workout partner, who also happens to be my SBF, has been out of town on a cycling tour of the Western United States. Albuquerque, N.M. to Portland, Ore. Personally I think he's a bit crazy, but I hear cycling over the Rocky Mountains is something magnificent to experience. I'll take his word for it.

Since I've been on my own I've been reticent to push myself too hard for fear of injuring myself without someone to help me out if I were to find myself in trouble. However, after a few weeks of working out on my own I've started to gain some newfound confidence in this arena. Pushing myself to lift more weight. Having the confidence that even though I am tired, I can actually finish that last set.

Last night I was at the gym and was really putting myself through the paces. It always help to have a goal - I leave for Burning Man in less than a month and I still have yet to recover, in my physical fitness, from this past session. Also, how am I supposed to attract a new beau if my body is in its current state? Remember... the neurosis of my vanity is very severe and well-documented.

So, there I was, finishing up a rather challenging upper-body workout and I was winding things up with a set on the flat bench. First set... no problem. Tired, but I got through it. Second set... a little challenging near the end. A little wobbly and I definitely struggled on the last two reps. At this point, it would have been wise to ask someone else in the weight area for a spot for the third set. I know rather well that if you struggle on the last few reps of a set, on the next set things are gonna be a bit more challenging.

Did I ask for a spot from the cute guy that was working out next to me? No. Of course not. "I can do this... no problem," I said to myself. And in fact, things went quite well for the first 4 reps of the set. On number 5, things got a bit wobbly and strained, but I did it. As I was lying on the bench, arms extended and holding the bar I took several deep breaths as I contemplated the next rep. "Do you have one more in you? At least one more?" I asked myself. "Yeah... just one though... I can make it through one more."

I slowly lowered the bar. I popped it off my chest and started to push. About half-way up, my chest burning, my triceps screaming, I knew it wasn't gonna happen. I took in a deep breath and tried to push it up a little bit further. I tried to get the bar up to the "emergency" or "secondary" brackets on the bench frame. Those brackets that are there for this express purpose. When you can't quite get the bar all the way up. (Isn't there a prescription for this problem?) Nope. Couldn't make it.

The bar dropped back down onto my chest. I just stayed there, pinned to the bench for a second and contemplated what to do. In vain, for I knew there was no way I could do it, I tried once more to push the bar up but I was done. Luckily, as soon as I resigned myself to the fact that I needed help and lifted my head, some guy walked by and litterally did a triple take at me pinned to the bench. Apparently this was not a typical sight to be seen.

"Can I get a little help?" I asked, trying to joke about it. "Seems my triceps decided I'm done."

"Oh my god, of course," he replied. "Couldn't quite get that last one finished, huh?"

And with that he freed me from my bench press prison. I thanked him and started to nurse my aching triceps. Worn out are not the words I would choose for what I was feeling.