by William Jackson on 2004-04-07
And I did go work out, and boy are my legs tired. That must have been the first real workout in a real workout room with real workout equipment in a few years.
It reminds me of my senior year in high school, when I … fade into white … cue psychedelic flashback music …
When my senior year of high school rolled around, I still lacked a full year of athletic credit to graduate. I was forced (yes, forced) to take a P.E. class all year. I signed up for a class called “Applications of Personal Fitness”. That sounded like a normal “team sports” kinda class to me, but much to my surprise …
Powerlifting! and I couldnʼt have been more depressed. I thought my life was over. I was easily the weakest man (boy?) in there, and if any one of those brutes had it in for me I wouldnʼt have lasted two sets of four reps.
To spoil a long story, it turned out to be the most rewarding and fun year of my life to that point. My self esteem improved more than my bench press, and I was the most improved lifter in the class, even though I was still lifting the least out of everyone.
There is a moral to this story. Points to she who guesses it.