I was never athletic during high school. I played softball in the spring but after the season was over I didn't touch a softball once until the following spring. I wasn't talented at the game. I could slug a ball great. Though, so could five other girls. I wasn't competitive like the others who played sports all year long, either. I just enjoyed the game. Problem was... I wasn't a help to my teammates. Not too mention my coach was the biggest douche of a man I've ever met. My senior year I gave up on softball. I was part the Varsity team only as a supporter. At first I was royally pissed off, but then I tried a new sport. An individual sport that I was good at and could continue growing my strength and skills. Power lifting.
Back track to my Sophomore year. I had just met my biological father. Of course, I'd seen old pictures of him from my mother. He was tall and a little thick with sandy blond hair and dark brown eyes. He was a little awkward and sheepish when pictured around my mother because she was older than him. Those photos had not prepared me for the mass of muscle that is my father today. His shoulders, arms, legs, neck, hands, everything are all enormous and muscular. It's intimidating to people. So, as he came walking up the driveway to pick us up I was in utter shock. I didn't think I was seeing the right person. But I was because we got into the car and off we went to Lucky's for dinner. We got along wonderful. From that day on he was over at the house all the time. Eventually, my mother and him got back together and are currently engaged. When I asked him why he was so huge compared to the pictures I'd seen he told me a little about power lifting. Basically, it's a bunch of people who lift extreme amounts of heavy weight in three different categories. Bench, squat, and dead lift. I was fascinated. He told me he was pro lifter and showed me some of his records. He took me to the gym with him a few times. As the months went by he started bringing his equipment over to our house in the garage and would train there with other big, bulky, sweaty men. I would use the machines for my own workout sessions but wasn't interested in the sport. I feared bulking up like that. I had no intention of becoming manly looking. Nor did I believe in my ability to discipline myself. That all changed, however, when I finally went to see him compete in a meet.
This past March I traveled to Grand Rapids. My father weighed in that night and the next morning my mother and I stood in the back of the room waiting for his turn. I expected to see hulk sized men in tight leotards (singlets) lifting 800 pounds and grunting. What I didn't expect to see were people of all shapes, sizes, and skill levels competing. I especially didn't expect women to be competing. I was in awe. Some of the girls who got on the platform to lift were 5 foot nothing and 100 pounds, but they were lifting three times their own weight! One girl was 4'8", 97 pounds, and dead lifted 336 pounds. My mind was blown. I was completely envious. I wanted that strength. I wanted that confidence. When the meet was over I told my dad how impressed I was. He laughed at my amazement. I told him that I was inspired to be strong like that. I wanted to lift.
After that day I looked at my schedule and realized I was too busy to start training seriously. Once I graduated and had everything in order for college I stepped up. The training is hard and takes a lot of you, but I haven't lost my drive. Already, I'm stronger than I've ever been and between my father and my boyfriend I have an amazing support system. My reasons for picking this topic are so I can stay focused on my training, track my progress, and laugh at my failures or mishaps. Maybe along the way I'll inspire another to become stronger with me.
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