I know patience is the name of this game, but I’m still working on that. I’m constantly looking forward, waiting for the next big thing. My latest training cycle I’m loving, because every day is a max of some sort, and I’m getting a new PR of some kind, every day. Just this week I reached two goals I’d set for the year: 10 chin-ups and 30 push-ups.
But as happy as I was to reach those goals I set back in February, I still want to see progress on the big three: squat, bench and deadlift, with deadlift my weakest lift (as compared to how much other women who can squat what I can are able to pull).
Today I worked up to a three rep max. My poor math skills come in handy because I start with 25lb plates, then 15, then 10, and when it got pretty hard, 5, so I lost all track of what was on the bar. I like not knowing because then I don’t have any pre-conceived ideas of whether I can pull it and for how many reps.
Ben counted when I got to a hard 175 (12 lbs below my 1 rep max). “Want to add more?” he asked. As if he even needed to ask. Actually, I was shaky, and not sure I could do more. I was seeing black and was lightheaded on the third rep. “That’s called max effort,” Ben said when I told him.I guess because I didn’t get my set-up right until recently, I just didn’t have any experience with really maxing on deadlift to teach me how it feels.
I guzzled a chocolate milk and sat down for a couple minutes. I was still shaky when I stepped to the bar, but told myself that didn’t matter, shaky or not, I was still strong enough to do this. And almost to my surprise, I did it — with enough ease that Ben had my try 190 next. Pitching forward on the first attempt I didn’t get it up far, and completely fried on the second attempt it barely budged. But I found my 3-rep max at 180 and considering how much harder I worked for the first time I got 180 three months ago:
I was pretty darn pleased to see how three felt today:
It’s slow, but it’s progress, and I’ll take that.