In honor of Colby's thread about favorite exercises, I'm gonna try to explain why I love strength training in general, and deadlifting for maxes in particular, above all other exercises.
It's just you, the bar, & aaaaalllll those plates, the tunes cranking in your ear as loud as you can stand it.
From a distance, it looks less like a weight exercise, and more like some ancient torture contraption.
As you step up to the bar and prepare yourself for the lift, the nausea sets in....you feel like your bowels are gonna let loose....and you feverishly work to keep your palms dry.
As you grip that bar, you get a crazy look in your eye. You find that you're no longer a man...now, you're half man, half animal. You feel your face starting to scowl, every muscle in your body is starting to twinge. You're now on the front lines, and the enemy is in sight.
As you start the heave-ho upward, you can literally feel every neuron in your brain firing. Maybe you're screaming, maybe not. You're in the zone. You get about 12 inches off the ground, and for just a fleeting moment, you're afraid.
You're afraid that your lower back will snap like a breadstick....you're afraid your knees will just explode like some kind of land mine....but worst of all, you fear you won't make the lift.
But then, you dig deep....at that moment, nothing matters but nailing this lift....you raise your head to the sky and find your true essence. Slowly but surely, the dragon starts to die, and you reach the point where you know you're safe, you know the lift is yours, and finish the movement with a triumphant wail that can be heard two towns away.
Then, for just a brief moment, you stand there holding your slain dragon, revelling in its defeat.
After you set the weight down, there's the rush, the thrill of conquest. Your whole body tingles with excitement. You take a moment to wipe the spit from the corners of your mouth, as you slowly return to normalcy.
No matter what else happens that day, you're king. You slayed the dragon, saved the queen, and lived happily ever after.
It's just you, the bar, & aaaaalllll those plates, the tunes cranking in your ear as loud as you can stand it.
From a distance, it looks less like a weight exercise, and more like some ancient torture contraption.
As you step up to the bar and prepare yourself for the lift, the nausea sets in....you feel like your bowels are gonna let loose....and you feverishly work to keep your palms dry.
As you grip that bar, you get a crazy look in your eye. You find that you're no longer a man...now, you're half man, half animal. You feel your face starting to scowl, every muscle in your body is starting to twinge. You're now on the front lines, and the enemy is in sight.
As you start the heave-ho upward, you can literally feel every neuron in your brain firing. Maybe you're screaming, maybe not. You're in the zone. You get about 12 inches off the ground, and for just a fleeting moment, you're afraid.
You're afraid that your lower back will snap like a breadstick....you're afraid your knees will just explode like some kind of land mine....but worst of all, you fear you won't make the lift.
But then, you dig deep....at that moment, nothing matters but nailing this lift....you raise your head to the sky and find your true essence. Slowly but surely, the dragon starts to die, and you reach the point where you know you're safe, you know the lift is yours, and finish the movement with a triumphant wail that can be heard two towns away.
Then, for just a brief moment, you stand there holding your slain dragon, revelling in its defeat.
After you set the weight down, there's the rush, the thrill of conquest. Your whole body tingles with excitement. You take a moment to wipe the spit from the corners of your mouth, as you slowly return to normalcy.
No matter what else happens that day, you're king. You slayed the dragon, saved the queen, and lived happily ever after.
