That Time I Got Pinned
After I got my license, I started driving myself to the gym everyday after school.
Great Bay Athletic Club was never overcrowded at 3pm like it would be in a couple hours. Besides me, there were afternoon regulars. A couple of old-school bodybuilders with thick training logs and the trademark thin and low tank top, a pair of older kids from my high school and my lifting buddies. I had just gotten into working out. I wanted to be a better hockey player but mostly, I wanted to look good.
In the strength world, it’s a right of passage to do something with 135 pounds. The barbell itself weighs 45 pounds, and before bumper plates we common, the only large diameter plates were metal 45 pound plates.
On this afternoon I was the only person there, none of the weekday usuals were around. I went on to do my typical warm up. Shot some free throws on the basketball court, worked on striking the speed bag, and a mainstay in warm ups at the time, arm circles with 2.5 pound plates.
This meant I was going to bench press. It's what all the stronger guys in the gym did before they benched, and that was pretty much what most people here did, bench press. I got my program from Flex magazine. A true bodybuilding split-style. Chest, shoulder, triceps twice a week, back and biceps twice a week and two lower body days. One dedicated to hamstrings and glutes, the other was quads and calves.
The program, my first introduction to progressive overload, decreased reps each week, intended to make you use heavier weights. Towards the end of the program, I was down to 4 reps for my main exercise of the day.
I continued the customary warm up, 10 reps with the bar, small 10 pound plates on each side, 10 reps there. I remember looking around, surprised none of my friends had shown up or at least the bodybuilder who always wore zebra print pants. I swapped out the 10’s for the stout 25’s. The reps there felt good enough that I put the 35 pound plates on the bar, now equalling 115 pounds.
The reps were good, and I rested a while. Eager to become strong I loaded up the bar with status, 135 pounds. I walked around in my Nike Shocks, obligatory homemade tank top and basketball shorts. I was going to get it, for the first time.
If you’ve been lifting for a while, you know if you can get the weight as soon as it leaves the rack. I hadn’t had nearly enough reps to know there was no chance I could get this barbell of my chest. I lowered it under control, using what I thought was good technique.
When the bar touched down, I stopped thinking about lowering the weight and pushed with all my might. The bar started lifting, gaining a bit of speed, then dropped onto my chest. My right leg kicked out when it landed. I was pinned. No one was around. Embarrassed, I wiggled, grunted and heaved, trying anything to get out. I couldn’t budge the bar.
Finally, some guy walked down the hallway from the locker room on the the gym floor. Immediately he noticed me on the bench. Several minutes into my predicament, I was just laying there, hoping for rescue. He ran over, lifted the bar off my chest and asked if I was okay. Instead of lecturing me, which I’m sure would have resulted in me abandoning the whole gym thing due to embarrassment, he said it happens, don’t worry about it, and went on his way to the cardio theater.
That wasn’t the last time I would get pinned, but it would be the last time I did it without a spotter. I kept working my bench press too, eventually, building to the point where 135 pounds was an acceptable warm up weight.
I’ve been reflecting a lot on how I got started working out, and how I was able to instill this important habit into myself at a young age. Looking back, I’m thankful that guy was nice, and didn’t scare me away from the gym. To whomever you were, thanks for the help.
Justin Miner
@justinminergain
