Brand new client, brand new dreams of becoming an Olympic weightlifter, in a brand new sport where the sky is the limit. We work on catching the bar in the hole over and over for hours. After catching a lift in the hole, I would have him sit down there and get comfy. I would throw him a bag of popcorn and tell him to watch a movie down there. I would tell him to bounce like tigger over and over to create stability, balance, and for the great practice of at times having to catch that second or third bounce to stand up with a heavy weight. I introduced him to his new home. He then started to make progress in the lifts, especially after I told him never to do a power snatch or power clean again, until he became a champion at the "full" lifts. A fist pump followed by a smile is the action and emotion that he got when he was able to lift more weight by receiving the bar as low as he could. I dropped out of physics, but I have the innate ability to understand that weightlifting is nothing more than a race against gravity. I get excited for him; I get excited for his new PR. We slap hands and drink more coffee, going over how the training went and what we both want in the near and far future. I think he thought the training session was over because he started to take his Pendlay shoes off. I then laughed and told him that the fire in Hell was still burning bright and high, and now we had to squat. Tired but still motivated, he took another sip of miss brown eyes, and began to slap the big bearded man's shoes back on. Back squats, 5 sets of 2, lets go. I had to take a number one from all the coffee that has been poured down my throat since I woke about 7 hours ago. In a full on sprint to the bathroom I yelled without looking behind me, "Get warmed up!". As I slowly started walking back from one of the best things God himself ever invented, I heard a bunch of little kids crying and screaming for their mothers. People everywhere where running past me to the door like the building was on fire. Coach Pendlay stood up and yelled for someone to call 911, and then he walked fast....not ran, because everyone knows that Coach never runs....well unless he is imitating my teammate Kevin Cornell. As I was spinning in circles trying to comprehend what was happening in the quiet town of San Ramon, Donny bumped into me spilling my coffee all over my deep v Attitude Nation shirt. He told me that a red fire breathing demon with sharp fangs and dinosaur scales dripping down its greasy back was killing people by its grotesque image alone. I pushed through the panicking crowd and to my horror......I saw my client doing low bar back squats.
The world ended hours later.
High bar 2016