"Thick"

As I mentioned yesterday, one of the true pleasures of getting back to the Highland Games after effectively a 3 year absence is being able to see any number of people you have not seen in a while.  When greeting each other for anyone you have thrown with more than one game, you typically hug.  That is the way it is done.  In the process of greeting and hugging, more than one of my friends with whom I have thrown for years but not seen recently was "Man, you are thick".

"Thick" is not the way it sounds.

The term is used to describe someone in the weight lifting, power lifting, or Highland Games community (or really, I suppose, any strength based sport) to describe status of one's core and torso.  To be "thick" means you have put on muscle in your chest, upper and lower back, and abdomen. It means at some level you are stronger than you were the last time someone saw you, just because (by default) you added mass.

In other words, "thick" is not "fat".  "Thick" is a compliment.

It implies a lot of other things as well:  That you have been putting in the work - and "work" here means training in the gym.  There is probably some implication of eating right here as well.  And training.  That there is lots and lots of training going on in the background.

It strikes me as odd as I think about it that so much meaning can be poured into a single word which no-one really "explains" but one just comes to understand by association.  It is not quite a secret language - after all, someone could look hear the expression of "thick" and look at someone from the side and think "yes, they do look a bit wide", trying to surreptitiously measure someone with their hands while carefully appears not to do so.  What would be missing from the measurement would be all that the word implies, evidenced by the knowing smile between the two exchanging the word while the spectator is trying to measure others to see how "thick" they are.

The other thing that - genuinely - surprises me is that how, in my mid-fifties, I am still vain enough that I am incredibly pleased to hear it.  Yes, I train for any number of reasons which do not involve directly my personal appearance - but the inside teenager me that was unathletic and not strong giggles with glee.  The fact that those "in the know" would notice such a thing makes me internally giggle all the more.

As the saying goes "Be not afraid of going slowly, be afraid only of standing still".

A Minor PR

This past Sunday, as part of my "readjusted" schedule for the gym (and after being away), I went back to finish out my workout sequence from a week ago.  In this case, my deadlifts.

Deadlifts, in case you have never associated the term with a lift, is where a loaded bar is pulled from ground level (well, really about 6" from ground level) to the level of the hips.  The greatest attention is paid to keeping the back in the correct position, not rounded (back issues ensue).  It is a good exercise in that it works virtually every muscle on the back, posterior, and legs.

The current raw record (no extra special equipment) is 1,015 lbs (460 kg) set in 2011 by Benedikt Magnusson.  The current "equipped" record (Deadlifting suit and straps to help hold the bar) is 1,105 lbs (501 kg) set in 2021 by Halfthor Juilus Bjornson (I saw this lift when it was streamed.  It was amazing.  Again, what starting with an almost 7' frame will do for you.).

My records are not nearly so impressive my best single deadlift ever being 310 lbs (140 kg) set at least three years ago and maybe four.  That said, the deadlift has become my favorite Olympic lift (the other two assigned lifts by The Berserker being the Bench Press and the Squat).  There is something almost almost meditative about stepping up to the bar, setting up, stiffening the core, and then raising up, reaching full extension, and then lowering down.  I cannot explain it, anymore than I can explain why the same sense of mediation comes to me when I draw the sword.  It simply is.  And it is the one lift that I can say I can feel when the adrenalin and Central Nervous System kick in - a rush experientially like nothing else.

This time something happened which I did not expect for this particular sets of reps:  I achieved a PR.

A PR is simply a "personal record", a best at a particular lift, weight, and set of repetitions (1X, 2X, 9X, etc.).  It is nice because - for each of the lifts - one can end up with 10 to 12 PRs based on each number of reps.  However, when you start hitting middle age and beyond and one has been training for a while, PRs become less and less of an occurrence.

Part of it, of course, is the fact that as one ages, one can simply lift less weight as things like tendons and joints become issues and the care and management of them becomes more important.  Part of it is also the fact that - like Iaijutsu - as one continues to master and training just doing the thing becomes less important that doing it well; form is a thing to be practiced in so many aspects of our lives.  And part of it is simply that one becomes less concerned about the amount of weight one can pull (especially in light of point one above - there are many former athletes and power lifters that cannot do near what they used to because of injuries they have sustained over the years.  Being able to train for long years becomes as important as the amount of weight lifted).

That said, the fact that I hit a PR - and for this particular set, something that I have not approached in at least four years - was cause for a small moment of celebration.

According to the Unrecorded (But Understood) Standard Rules (U(BU)SR), a PR does not have to be much to count - a 2.5 lbs or 5 lbs PR is still a PR, just as in Highland Games a 1" increase goes in the books as a PR.  In that sense, it does not matter how small the victory is - it counts as a victory.

The other thing that gave me a small shot of adrenalin was the lift was 1.57 times my body weight, completed X times.  In theory, of course, the max lift I could achieve at my weight is supposed to be around 500 lbs for a single lift if I were a super lifter (Point of order:  that is never happening).  For an average lifter - which is what I am - it looks pretty darn near my current max.  Which is fine of course; the chances I will need to lift even that much is pretty small.

One the whole, of course, this matters not at all:  Whether on not I can lift or not lift this sort of thing is of no interest to none but myself.  At the same time, it makes me glad that even though I am in my 50's, I can still have the ability to set a PR.  Our ability to improve is not ultimately limited by our age, only our mindset.