Push-Pull

I was
Lost in the zone
Where consciousness
Had left and serenity had
Found its stabilizing way into
My system for dead lifting

Up on the bar
Up so close bloody shins
Were a real possibility
I don’t rock
Long socks for protection
Any scrapes on my shins are
There to scare the box jump goblins away
“Stable midline, neutral spine
Grab the bar
Lock and lift”

All went well today
Standing up with weight
Lifted a spirit
Burned from the intensity
Of exercising
With the trauma inducing training mentality
Where success was measured in the accumulation
Of personal records at the expense of enjoyment

Once my inspiration for those external rewards waned
I stripped my ego of gigantic aspirations
And reassessed my motives,
Believing that success
Would reside in a new haven poured
On a foundation of proper position.
So
I practiced technique for months
While letting the grandiose thoughts of maxing
Fade into the impermanence
Of heavy training

The realization of which
Happened today
Under the tempting tease of
Wondering if I still had it.
Nope, I didn’t
Didn’t have the desire to go big
Just a want to be
Correct
Knowing the position…
Feeling alignment…
Being one with the bar,
And currying favor with Gravity
So that I might have that peaceful passage
With Challenge and Confidence
Into the life
That is the dead lift

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