A Pressing Day

I strut confidently, entering the dimly lit room that is all too familiar, yet never the same. My blue and yellow bag draped by my side tugs at my shoulder, as if implying it wants down. Finding my spot I oblige it with an uncaring toss.

People everywhere, some wanting to be where I am, bustle around this cube of a room, never staying in any one place for long.

Pen, paper, chalk and other miscellaneous items I remove from my bag, find their place on the floor next to my worn out bench. Sitting down, I glance to the clock hanging on the bare, drab wall overhead. Seeing it is one p.m. confirms that I am on schedule.

As I begin my daily routine, every few minutes I scan the room, searching for familiar faces. Nothing but strangers so far, and the irritating yelling and chit chat that always accompanies my days here. I try to concentrate, going through the motions, hoping nobody will interrupt me.

“Hey, got a minute?” The familiar phrase pierces my self induced cocoon.
“Sure,” I reply, knowing all too well that what goes around comes around.

Returning to my territory, I nearly fall as I stumble over someone else’s misplaced items. Not caring to waste my energy in a dispute, I disregard his annoying, “I dare you” glare. Unknowing to him, his bad attitude and haircut will just add fuel to my fire before this day is over.

Back at my bench, my attention is grabbed by two strangers, one I vaguely recognize. Dressed in blue jeans and tank tops, the pair look out of place. Whipping my head around, the clock now reads one-thirty p.m., my mind shouts, “No time for wondering thoughts, need to focus!”

Grabbing my chalk, I begin to leave my mark. White powder flying about, its residue left to cling onto anything near by. I cinch my belt, as if readying for a gun fight. The weight of the moment seems to saturate the air.

Every eye in the room is trained on me, this funny looking guy covered with chalk.

The two men in blue jeans, walking over now, offer their assistance. Nodding sharply, I thank them and blurt out directions.

Standing, not moving a muscle, I feel my heart pounding, trying to rip through my chest. With every thundering beat, my blood races, reaching every inch of my body, but somehow ending in my ears. The long awaited adrenaline strikes like a bolt of lightning, coursing throughout my body. My mind clouded, primitive instinct conquers any reason and doubt that resides within me.

“I love this!” I scream, totally intoxicated with this elusive yet wonderful feeling.

My body burns with anticipation, the energy rushes, invading my every thought. This “high” will only last a few moments, so I relish in it, as if in a nice, hot, morning shower.

“I can do it! Because I’m TNT, I’m dynamite!” AC/DC runs rampant through my mind, my teen-age youth seems to flash by in a few short seconds.

Totally oblivious to my surroundings, blind and deaf to all, I succumb to my thoughts. I clap my hands fiercely, signaling the start of this battle. Like a great gladiator entering his arena, I lay across my bench.

Five hundred and five pounds of steel, hovering a mere two feet from my face, mesmerizes my being. As if this steel is a living organism with a soul of its own, silently taunting me, I brace myself for war.

Bar above, our “eyes” meet, each daring the other to turn away. Neither budges, so I grasp it with all my might. Wrapping my fingers tightly, I try to suffocate my fears and apprehensions out of its cold, knurled neck.

“AAHHGGGGGG!!!”

I lift “him” out of the cradle, high into the air. I pause, the strain of the weight overhead, lunging towards me, tries to break my spirit then my body. Each of us fight for control over the other. This battle, I have won many times before, and lost many more.

Slowly, I lower my arms, not a breath I take or a blink I make. Not letting his ugly face from my sight, I allow a kiss to my chest, demanding respect.

“AAHHGGGGGG!!!”

With all my strength, I’m determined to thrust my arms out, to push my opponent away. My strength and energy, fleeing me, swallowed by “him,” as if being sucked into a black hole. My body straining, bones grinding against flesh, fighting to stay intact. Vision blurred, spots of red and black begin to dance about my sight. The incessant hum, only I can detect, numbs all senses. All conscious thoughts escape my grasp.

“AAHHGGGGGG!!!”

The final burst empowers my purpose, I punch through the barrier, as if entering the eye of a storm. I find myself laying with arms fully outstretched. I finally lay “him” down to rest.

“I love this!!”

Gasping for breath now, the walls of reality start to ooze back into place. The spots, the humming, slowly giving way to my surroundings. I am master for another seven days, then the struggle will repeat itself.

Tagged as: bench press

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