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Lifting and the Little Things

Little mistakes add up.

By joviePublished 6 years ago 7 min read
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Photo by Brad Neathery on Unsplash

Something awful happened a little while ago.

I failed my deadlifts.

Well, I didn’t fail them — not exactly. I just didn’t quite reach the goals I had set for myself, which is still horrible, in my opinion.

I had entered the gym with the intention of performing Romanian Deadlifts (4 sets of 6 reps) at 135 lbs. This, I knew, would be a little difficult, but certainly not impossible. I’d lifted nearly 135 lbs in the past, and it was time to progress. I’d even loaded up on carbs and pre-workout supplements prior to hitting the gym. In my eyes, I deserved the soreness in my glutes and hamstrings, the calluses on my palms, and the satisfaction of tearing the bar off the floor.

But I didn’t. Every set after the first got increasingly difficult — well, more difficult than it should have been — until I couldn’t make it through a set without losing proper form. To avoid pulling a muscle, snapping my spine, or otherwise hurting myself, I re-racked the bar in the middle of my third set.

It was disappointing and I hung my head for a while.

To be specific, I let myself hang my head, because of the only little lifting thing in this article that I hadn’t forgotten about.

Process Frustration:

If you don’t develop mental discipline, you’re not going to develop a perfect physique.

Very early in my “fitness journey,” as I was heading to the gym, I was caught by my neighbor. At the time, I lived in a one bedroom apartment in Florida and my neighbor was a tall, blonde, stoner boy who made music. When he invited me into his place to take a few hits, you can imagine how quickly the gym left my mind.

The point is that there will be setbacks. Unless you are whisked away to the desert, surrounded by nothing but training equipment and nutritious food and positive, motivating mentors — or you’re superhuman — your progress will be non-linear.

No matter how much you love the gym, time constraints may keep you away. No matter how dedicated you are to your diet, Thanksgiving rolls around every year. So does that whisper in your head telling you that it’s okay to lie on the couch for a little longer — that you’ve earned a little complacency, at least for a little while.

That’s how you wind up screwing yourself over. That’s what leads to your shoulders slumping when you look at yourself in the mirror. That’s when you hit the wall and cry and hate yourself.

Once you’ve released those emotions — those stupid, silly emotions — and you can think straight, figure out what went wrong and fix it. Keep moving. Once you’re back in the mindset you belong in, you can get into the fun stuff.

Grip Strength:

I love supplements. I love knee wraps and over-priced shoes. I love all the extra, fancy shit that retailers try to convince you are necessary — so much so that I began ignoring the little things.

Little things, like grip strength, can make or break your workout. In my case, I’d spent so much time building up strength in my legs and back that soon my forearms were left in the dust. Even doing Romanian Deadlifts at 115 lbs, I’ve had trouble keeping ahold of the bar for multiple repetitions. Of course, I chose to remain blind to this because… well, ego.

But now I have two choices:

  1. Improve my grip strength so I can get back on track.
  2. Remain stalled, lifting below my bodyweight until the day I die.

Choice 2 isn’t really an option, because I’m a maniac and an over-achiever. But going forward without addressing my weak area isn’t an option because it’s physically impossible. I can’t exactly tear heavier and heavier weights off the ground if I can’t keep my fingers around them.

To improve grip strength, I’ve been static holding heavy kettlebells and trying out kettlebell swings (which is another post entirely). I’m also looking into grip trainers, which are pliers-looking devices that you squeeze open and shut with varying levels of resistance.

Balance:

Weakness in my hands and forearms was the main reason my deadlifts sucked, but another factor played in.

Balance, when working with heavy weights, is easier to lose than one might expect. While it’s definitely at its most perilous during squats, it plays into deadlifts as well.

Think of it this way: You’re walking a dog and catch sight of a cutie down the street. If your dog is well-behaved, you can focus on running up to said cutie and perhaps scoring a date. If the dog is bolting from one side of the sidewalk to another, yanking you off your feet and pulling you in a new direction every moment, you may have a harder time getting your dream date.

In this analogy, the dog is the loaded bar and the cutie is the pride of accomplishing a personal record. (I’m single for a reason.)

Part of what affects balance is proper hand placement, but honestly, if you can’t figure out how to space your hands evenly, you probably have no business lifting free weights.

Footwear ought to be chosen wisely, as well. When deadlifting, you want a stable surface to be able to drive your heels into the floor.

Those weird-looking Skechers Shape-Ups with the giant outer soles are a bad idea. I won’t go into the aesthetics — it’s no one’s job but your own to make your fashion choices — but they were literally designed to rock back and forth. Running shoes have a similar, though considerably less obnoxious, curve which makes them less than ideal.

When I first started out, I used basic, all-purpose training shoes, which was fine. As I’ve progressed, I’ve found I need a bit more stability. If nothing else, it’s unnerving to feel your ankle shift halfway through a lift.

Now, there are shoes made specifically for lifting. They have flat, slightly raised heels to help you maintain proper form and are made of solid, durable material so that they don’t depress under the weight of both you and the bar. (All your bodyweight plus whatever weight you’re lifting equals a lot of pressure on your feet and shoes.)

Unfortunately, quality weightlifting shoes tend to run from $150–200 a pair. Can you afford that? No? Neither can I.

Apparently, a gym bro in the power rack next to me had the same problem. I noticed him kicking off his sneakers and lifting in his socks, and I stopped to ask him about it. “I feel a better connection with the floor,” he said.

It’s weird, but I tried it, and it’s true. I realized my legs wobbled a lot less going barefoot, and I didn’t have to concern myself so much with keeping my torso steady and could focus on bringing the weight off the floor.

It’s not ideal — I’ve had multiple nightmares about dropping a plate on my unprotected toes — but until there’s a price slash in weightlifting shoes, it’s my best solution.

Rest

Rest is horrible. It sucks and it’s boring. I hate it.

But I need it.

Prior to my failed Romanian Deadlifts, I had done four sets of backs squats and three sets of front squats. Regardless of how much pre-workout I could have taken, my muscles were bound to be fatigued.

And that’s only the short-term we’re talking about.

I’d also been going about four months at a nonstop pace — constantly testing my limits and constantly throwing more plates on the bar. For context, four months prior, I was lifting 65 lbs, and I did take rest days — working out Monday through Friday and relaxing on the weekend — but I never stepped away from the bar or dialed back the intensity. In hindsight, this was bound to happen.

The solution is obvious: take a good ten days off from intense exercise and heavy lifting. It’s also the only practice listed here which I haven’t yet implemented. I told myself I would take a break from the gym last week, but I got bored and went anyways. I told myself I would take a break this week, too, but my feet just kind of carried me there.

Going to the gym is a habit at this point, and habits are hard to break, but like I said, something has to change if I want to move forward. I’ve drafted a new routine, one which involves three rest days and a rest week every other month. It’s had a domino effect on other aspects of my life — my sleep schedule, for one — and new lifestyles are a pain in the ass to get started, but they’re the only way to get what you want.

And I really want a new deadlift PR.

fitness
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About the Creator

jovie

I once listened to "Closer" by Nine Inch Nails for nearly 12 hours straight in an attempt to hurry along my inevitable descent into madness.

I failed.

#StillSane

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