I made the team.

I had a feeling this was coming.  Porter told me that he was putting together a team for the meet.  He wants to beat the team from another gym.

Porter: I’ll be paying the entry fee for the team.

Me (thinking he means our individual entry fees): Wow, that’s awesome!

Porter: Yeah, it’s only $50 to enter a team.  So it’ll be you, Emilio, my wife, the new girl (see below), blah, blah, blah…

Me: Listen, I don’t mind you putting me on the team.  But I might go to Subway or something in between flights and I don’t want to be guilt tripped because I missed someone’s attempts.

Porter: No, no, by all means, it’s cool, no obligations, etc etc.

We’ll see.  I’m not wearing a T-shirt though.  Especially if it says “Team [Porter’s Last Name]” like it said last year.

Porter was all aflutter today because he found a new lifter, Betsy.  This was the burly (6/10; quads and glutes look good in spandex, probably a mess when she takes spandex off) woman from this post.  He excitedly told me that she benched 135×3 (probably in 148 or maybe 165 weight class).  I feigned enthusiasm but I saw her bench 135×5 with bullshit form so I was doubtful & wondered how much he “spotted” her.  But then she worked up to a 200 lb raw squat (i witnessed 185, it was easy & deep with good form).  Porter’s wife, Nancy, had a bad day and missed 215.  Admittedly Betsy is 15-20 years younger (30? 35?).  But her sole other lifting training consisted of … wait for it… Bodypump classes.  Yeah.  Who knew? 

This made Nancy a little jealous/pissed and I don’t blame her.  Here she is busting her ass in the gym on Sunday mornings and other days at their garage gym, and this chick almost beats her on her first day.

Porter: I think there’s some tension between Betsy and Nancy.

Me: Yeah, I kind of noticed that too.

Porter: This is going to be a problem we’re going to have to deal with.

Me: No, this is going to be a problem you are going to have to deal with.  I’m just going to look on and be amused.

Porter: Oh man, the fur is gonna fly.

After seeing me “lift” “big” weights with the slingshot, other guys want to try.  Emilio (it’s his slingshot) hit 330, and missed 340 last week.  This week John, my bodybuilder spotter, missed 315, then hit it the 2nd time.  (His raw max is 315 btw).

Emilio used it again this week and got 330 easily.  I suggested 335 and he agreed.  He drove the bar straight back towards his face.  I caught it, but it was well below even the low uprights.  I held it there, resting on my thighs.  Emilio didn’t move.  I can’t curl 335.  So I slowly lowered it down to the bench.  At this point, the bar, balanced on the (narrow) bench started to tip.  Finally Emilio sat up, and we both watched helplessly what happened next: Because he wasn’t using collars, weights started sliding off.  First the change on one side, then the change on the other, then the 45s, one at a time, as the bar seesawed crazily.  Pretty noisy.  Pretty embarrassing, but whatever.  Next time I will insist on collars.  I mean he owns a pair of Lock-jaws and has them in his gym bag.

Most people were too scared/polite to say anything about this, except Chad, who found it hilarious:  “Admit it, Coach, you were trying to kill Emilio!”  huehuehue

Weight: 191.6 (+2.0)

Manta Ray Squat: 45×4, 135×3, 225×2, 275, 315, 335, 355, 365, 370, 375; 360,365,370,375×1, 360×1,1,2,1,1,1,1,1,2,2,1p

Bottom Position Squat #10: 405, 475, 515

TSV: 360×21

Medium Grip Bench: 45×10, 95×4, 135×3, 175×2, 215, 255, 285

Is my shoulder sore or is it in my head?  Decided to play it safe and use the slingshot.

Slingshot Bench: 315, 345, 375, 395 (really 390 but i’ll count it because the bar was 5 lbs heavier on one side), 400, 405 (lifted butt like a champ); 370×3,3

Sumo+ Average Band underfoot

1.5″: 95nb, 95, 145

1″: 165

0.5″: 175

floor: 185

-0.5″: 195

-1″: 200

-1.5″: 210

Chinups: 2 sets

Time: 2:40


4 thoughts on “I made the team.

  1. congrats on finally getting accepted on the state’s best powerlifting team. I know this is a goal you have worked towards for a long time. try to keep sane when old man porter starts throwing cash your way.

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