All the way on my drive to the gym today, I was doing my best to head to Starbucks first. Or instead. (In my experience, it works out much the same.) But I managed to get there. Today is "Day One," arguably the least demanding day in my routine. Day One is the day I focus on the pectorals. Real simple. First up is cable flies, then the decline bench press, and I close with three sets of push-ups, doing as many as I can in each set.
Cable flies were just about the same as the last time I did them. But then came the decline bench press.
There's not a lot of spotting that goes on at my gym. Part of the weird vibe of the place. So I go it alone. The past few weeks, i've been a little tentative. I swear, I almost killed myself. Or injured myself severely. Or just embarrassed myself, which would have been worst of all. I do my best to go to Just. Past. Failure. Which is tough without a spotter. And I almost didn't make it up on the lift.
This week, some bozo was using the decline bench to do crunches. Grrrrr. As he showed no sign of stopping, I ran over to the dumbell racks and did a few sets of bicep curls, low weight, real slow, lots of squeeze. When he was done, I made a beeline over there.
Okay. Here's how I work it. I start off with weight that's heavy enough for me to just get off five or six reps. Then I take off weight five pounds at a time until I can do a good solid set of ten.
Last time I did decline bench press, I started out at 65 lbs (as in, 65 lbs of weight on each end of the bar, for a total of 175 lbs including the 45 pound bar itself. And I was able to get out seven reps. I dropped down to 55 lbs on each end of the bar before I could get to ten.
So I load it up with 65 lbs, get into that headspace, and I did ten reps. Clean. Perfect form.
I didn't quite know what to do after that. Except push ups, of course. Nothing exceptional went on there.
Back in the lockerroom, I had the place to myself as I stripped to get ready for the shower and steamroom. And I couldn't resist a look-see in the mirror.
And... and... there was this guy! Totally built! The guns on him! And those pillowy pecs! And those delts like bowling balls! And those forearms like tenpins! He was a big guy! Like, big enough to get work as a bouncer!
What is going on here?
I think it has something to do with the 300 soundtrack I have in heavy rotation on my iPod shuffle. That and Jinx Titanic and a few other sundry testosterone fueled selections.
Now, before I hear "post some pics!" keep in mind that the post-workout pump is verrrry short-lived.
It was fleeting, but I saw it.
And I made it happen.