There's no room to be nice here

It’s time to start kicking arse and taking names. And my shiny new red Pendlay Barbell Do-Wins should be just the thing.

I’ve never been what anyone would call aggressive. As the smallest kid in class growing up, and a girl and a bookworm to boot, I never learned to be aggressive. (That’s not to say I didn’t have a wild temper, but that’s neither here nor there.)

So here I am trying to beat powerlifting records, but I still place the bar politely back in the rack after a squat. “Slam it in there,” Ben told me yesterday. “Show some aggression.”  My workout was hard yesterday — I worked up to 85% on squat, which is now 155 pounds. Doing three to my new, low depth was hard. Not driving back up until Ben’s signal was hard. Being reprimanded for hovering just below parallel instead of continuing down was hard. What do you do with all that? It seems the answer is to funnel all that negative energy into some aggressive action.So I slammed my bar into the rack (not without some trepidation that I’d miss) with great satisfaction.

But I’m still working on the get-aggressive thing. I worked up to three reps at 85% on deadlift, and got all three  without reversing my grip and without a belt. Next was two at 90% — 175 pounds. And because we’re basing my percentages on an estimated max, 175 is actually the most I’ve done. No belt, no reverse grip, I pulled the first one but it was hard.  “Reverse your grip,” Ben said for the second rep. I reversed it and somehow got lopsided coming off the floor and dropped it. I reset, and began to pull. Nada. It was not coming up past my ankles. Furiously disappointed, I dropped it.

“You’ve got to get aggressive with this,” Ben said.  My interpretation of his feedback after that was to stop being so la-dee-da about it and get ferocious.

So that’s my plan. Stop behaving like a little girl, and attack the weights. Get mad, get mean, get whatever I have to get to win. (But I’m still girl enough to think my shiny new shoes will help!)

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