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Kabeetz
Banned
I made this so I might as well get it out there and share it I guess...
This morning in the gym I was going in benching straight sets, four sets of six reps. And on the sixth rep of the fourth set I failed and it pissed me off to no end. And then I ended up having a not particularly remarkable workout and I realized what an impact that one rep had. If I made it, it would've completely altered my perspective of my workout. Perhaops that's amateur or even immature, but it's true. And then I thought about all the powerlifters who spend so much time pursuing specific lift totals, etc. and the whole nature of lifting in general. So I decided to spend the first hour of my work day writing this. It would be cool if you liked it but I'll be content if you don't absolutely hate it
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One Rep
by Kabeetz
One Rep.
One Repetition. A fine line between success and failure, it is often a matter of mere inches. Very often it is a matter of quite less.
One Repetition. It is the difference between exhilaration and agony. The difference between success and defeat.
One Repetition. The mark of a great workout, the root of an effort gone to waste. Maybe the difference between a great day and a bad day. It is cliché, but somehow only because it is true.
One Repetition. A solitary moment in time. It is nothing.
And yet, it can be everything.
It is a measure by which we define ourselves. It is the result of our efforts. The output of all that which we input. The more we care, the more important it becomes.
One Repetition.
One hope. One goal. One dream. Achieved? Shattered? Surpassed? Denied?
At different times, different things, but at all times ironic.
One repetition means everything, until it is achieved. And at that moment, it becomes a sweet, yet fading memory. It is no longer the journey in front of us, but the mountain behind us. Eventually it becomes matter of fact. New goals await us, new dreams inspire us. We instantly turn our attention to the next challenge to break our back for, a new mission to break a sweat for, a new reason to continue on.
It is a flawed relationship, at best. One repetition doesn’t give a care to those who so feverishly pursue it, who are so consumed by its lingering presence, who reach up and flail to grab it as if they were a child grabbing at the sun, so effortlessly shining, seemingly so close, yet in reality so far away.
One repetition.
If you never manage to defeat it, the repetition doesn’t know the difference.
If you conquer it, the repetition doesn’t bother to acknowledge it ever even happened.
It taunts us nonetheless. It mocks us, it laughs at us, it dares us. It is ignorant of the fact that it is a device by which we are utterly consumed. This angers us all the more.
It may be cruel, but one rep never lies. Ever. When you are alone, when the bar is pressed against your chest, there are no lies. When you are alone, when your crouched body, hamstring pressed against calf, begs to explode upwards, there are no lies.
There is no room for fiction where there can only be fact. Success or failure.
Truth.
There is only truth.
You can lie to others, you can fool even yourself, but the weight never lies. The repetition tells no fibs. It is unforgiving.
If we are in a constant pursuit of the greatest, heaviest, most grueling repetition our physical presence can possibly surpass, it a beautiful and valiant chase we have undertaken.
And a tragic one.
Because just as we pursue our one greatest, most powerful, most sincere repetition… We draw ever closer to the first repetition we will never, ever be able to complete. As we manipulate and transform our bodies in a relentless quest for accomplishment and personal evolution, each of us reaches and can see the horizon that separates the heaviest weight we will ever lift, from the lightest weight we will never have the ability to lift.
There exists, for each of us, our own personal Moby Dick. A whale we will never catch. One twisted, sinister repetition.
There will be no need for judgement as to this. Only truth.
Only reality.
One repetition. A true nemesis. A formidable opponent.
Often, a great friend. Though never consoling, it is always there. Reliable as the elements from which it is forged, comforting in it’s mere presence and constant dimension. An unknowing provider of reason and hope. The driving force that propels us through our individual journey.
If a repetition comes without effort, it is incorrectly titled. Simply enough, such a repetition is not worth repeating.
If a repetition comes hard, if it is fought for, if it is days, weeks, months, years, decades in the making, then our strength and muscle are the battle scars that act as testament to the worthiness of the journey and the beauty of our craft.
A fleeting win, perhaps. But a worthy one, undoubtedly so.
Until the day we come face to face with the victory we will never taste, the repetition we will never conquer.
One repetition that any among us would be honored to meet, and each of us inevitably will.
If we have given our all, with the greatest sincerity, battled with maximum tenacity, fueled on sheer human will, spirit, and true dedication, then in hindsight it will be considered nothing short of a remarkable, honorable defeat. A defeat lacking in any aspect or condition of regret.
There is a pure and unassuming beauty in this. For there is only truth.
When there is no further to go, you can go no farther.
And so the repetition waits, with infinite patience, for the next challenger.
This morning in the gym I was going in benching straight sets, four sets of six reps. And on the sixth rep of the fourth set I failed and it pissed me off to no end. And then I ended up having a not particularly remarkable workout and I realized what an impact that one rep had. If I made it, it would've completely altered my perspective of my workout. Perhaops that's amateur or even immature, but it's true. And then I thought about all the powerlifters who spend so much time pursuing specific lift totals, etc. and the whole nature of lifting in general. So I decided to spend the first hour of my work day writing this. It would be cool if you liked it but I'll be content if you don't absolutely hate it
----------
One Rep
by Kabeetz
One Rep.
One Repetition. A fine line between success and failure, it is often a matter of mere inches. Very often it is a matter of quite less.
One Repetition. It is the difference between exhilaration and agony. The difference between success and defeat.
One Repetition. The mark of a great workout, the root of an effort gone to waste. Maybe the difference between a great day and a bad day. It is cliché, but somehow only because it is true.
One Repetition. A solitary moment in time. It is nothing.
And yet, it can be everything.
It is a measure by which we define ourselves. It is the result of our efforts. The output of all that which we input. The more we care, the more important it becomes.
One Repetition.
One hope. One goal. One dream. Achieved? Shattered? Surpassed? Denied?
At different times, different things, but at all times ironic.
One repetition means everything, until it is achieved. And at that moment, it becomes a sweet, yet fading memory. It is no longer the journey in front of us, but the mountain behind us. Eventually it becomes matter of fact. New goals await us, new dreams inspire us. We instantly turn our attention to the next challenge to break our back for, a new mission to break a sweat for, a new reason to continue on.
It is a flawed relationship, at best. One repetition doesn’t give a care to those who so feverishly pursue it, who are so consumed by its lingering presence, who reach up and flail to grab it as if they were a child grabbing at the sun, so effortlessly shining, seemingly so close, yet in reality so far away.
One repetition.
If you never manage to defeat it, the repetition doesn’t know the difference.
If you conquer it, the repetition doesn’t bother to acknowledge it ever even happened.
It taunts us nonetheless. It mocks us, it laughs at us, it dares us. It is ignorant of the fact that it is a device by which we are utterly consumed. This angers us all the more.
It may be cruel, but one rep never lies. Ever. When you are alone, when the bar is pressed against your chest, there are no lies. When you are alone, when your crouched body, hamstring pressed against calf, begs to explode upwards, there are no lies.
There is no room for fiction where there can only be fact. Success or failure.
Truth.
There is only truth.
You can lie to others, you can fool even yourself, but the weight never lies. The repetition tells no fibs. It is unforgiving.
If we are in a constant pursuit of the greatest, heaviest, most grueling repetition our physical presence can possibly surpass, it a beautiful and valiant chase we have undertaken.
And a tragic one.
Because just as we pursue our one greatest, most powerful, most sincere repetition… We draw ever closer to the first repetition we will never, ever be able to complete. As we manipulate and transform our bodies in a relentless quest for accomplishment and personal evolution, each of us reaches and can see the horizon that separates the heaviest weight we will ever lift, from the lightest weight we will never have the ability to lift.
There exists, for each of us, our own personal Moby Dick. A whale we will never catch. One twisted, sinister repetition.
There will be no need for judgement as to this. Only truth.
Only reality.
One repetition. A true nemesis. A formidable opponent.
Often, a great friend. Though never consoling, it is always there. Reliable as the elements from which it is forged, comforting in it’s mere presence and constant dimension. An unknowing provider of reason and hope. The driving force that propels us through our individual journey.
If a repetition comes without effort, it is incorrectly titled. Simply enough, such a repetition is not worth repeating.
If a repetition comes hard, if it is fought for, if it is days, weeks, months, years, decades in the making, then our strength and muscle are the battle scars that act as testament to the worthiness of the journey and the beauty of our craft.
A fleeting win, perhaps. But a worthy one, undoubtedly so.
Until the day we come face to face with the victory we will never taste, the repetition we will never conquer.
One repetition that any among us would be honored to meet, and each of us inevitably will.
If we have given our all, with the greatest sincerity, battled with maximum tenacity, fueled on sheer human will, spirit, and true dedication, then in hindsight it will be considered nothing short of a remarkable, honorable defeat. A defeat lacking in any aspect or condition of regret.
There is a pure and unassuming beauty in this. For there is only truth.
When there is no further to go, you can go no farther.
And so the repetition waits, with infinite patience, for the next challenger.
