#BroPrivilege

A year ago, I wrote a post about gym trolls, because they’re the toe fungus of the gym world. However, it’s important to note that good gym guys do exist, and I’ve been fortunate to make friends with many of them.

Typically, I workout alone. Training for Spartan is more intense than your average gym session, so it’s just easier to do it solo.

A year ago, I found myself in a place of mental/emotional anguish and exhaustion. My grit and resilience took a major hit, ending at an all-time low. My self-esteem went right with them. I was constantly fighting with myself to rebuild, but it felt like a “gettin’ hit as soon as you get up” vicious cycle. I was tired. I felt bloodied and bruised. Most days, I wasn’t even sure where I was.

Cue the mental blackhole.

[caption id=”attachment_2149" align=”aligncenter” width=”500"]

Felt a lot like this. On repeat. For months.[/caption]

The gym serves as my therapist. I channel all my emotional BS into my workouts. But sometimes, that junk feels heavier than the weights I’m lifting, and I get too in my head. This is the part where having a gym buddy to kick your ass, get in your face, call you on your shit, and get your head refocused is crucial. And I didn’t have one.

Or I hadn’t.

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Lol wait, what did she just write?[/caption]

He took on the job without a word. I’d been doing assisted pull-ups for weeks with slow, minor improvement. I was frustrated, but resigned myself to continuing on, knowing I’d have to re-strategize, though not sure how.

“What you doing with it at 85 assist, girl? You’re stronger than that.” He said it jokingly, but I knew he was serious. This guy (we’ll call him Bandana) was King Smooth of the gym, and he’s yoked. I’ve watched his lifts; unlike the douchebag in the last gym post, Bandana actually knows what he’s doing, and bonus: he’s genuinely nice.

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And, much like me, she’s a tough bitch to impress.[/caption]

So when he said, “Alright. We’re gonna do 6 at this weight, then 3 at this one, then 3, and then 2 and then 1, and by the end of the month, I’ll have you doing pull-ups with no assist,” I listened. I didn’t argue or brush him off. I accepted that he was taking over and taking charge, and I did exactly what he said. (This is usually the only way to help me. If you ask, I’ll resist. He didn’t give me a choice, and that’s exactly what I needed.)

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Seriously. Ya just gotta take charge.[/caption]

What started with pull-ups turned into a friendship with someone who could sense without a word when I’d get too in my own head. He’d cross the gym, box my shoulder, nudge me, or throw me a head nod, getting me to smile and laugh. He unknowingly created bright spots during awful days, and I admired and respected his friendship, not just for the little goofs, but also for being the kick in the ass I needed.

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When you learn to like having help[/caption]

And then, I hit a regression. I’d been sick for two weeks and consequently missed workouts. I was down about it, until he pulled me aside for a serious chat post-pull-up failure.

“You need to start doing two arm days a week, and you need to lift heavier.”

I chewed the inside of my cheek, nodded my head, and reconfigured my lifting program over the weekend so I could return the next week ready to do work and destroy things.

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Just layin on the bench like, “Dis how I warm up.”[/caption]

We did pull-ups together on Wednesdays. I knocked out 4 warm-up reps before he dropped the assist bench. My mouth fell open. “We’re getting right to it today. 2 reps with each grip. We need to start hitting all the muscles.” I smile, shake my head, and take a lap.

“Okay, let’s do this.”

I gut it out and fail miserably. He helped. I struggled, but I got it done.

A few months later, I switched gyms. I miss Bandana terribly, but I’ve made some new friends who’ve been good for a spot when needed, great for an ass-kicking when deserved, and perfect for delivering smiles and laughter in abundance amidst all my emotional/mental bully bullshit.

I still workout mostly solo. When I compete, it’s just me; I don’t have a partner or a teammate to rely on, so getting through tough workouts alone has purpose. But in all my hard work, I’ve earned gym #BroPrivilege, which mostly results in less judgmental looks, more genuinely helpful bros, and a lot more respect (translation: less of the sexist, bullying, gymtimidation nonsense that happened with gym douche). Basically, I’m one of the guys now.

So while going it solo is important for the purposes of race mental prep, it never hurts to have people in your corner who aren’t afraid to push you, regardless of whether you asked for it or not.

And best of all? I’m hitting pull-ups consistently all by myself. And bro, does it feel good.

Here’s to getting stronger faster with an ass-kicking #BroSquad at my side.

HBIC,

Bossey Boots