I ripped my shirt yesterday. It was a glorious thing to behold.
Let me explain.
Back in February I joined a gym with the intention of finally building up enough muscle mass to bench my weight – something I’ve always wanted to do. Unlike most guys, strength and muscle mass isn’t something my body is blessed with – I have to work for it. If I don’t exercise my muscles on a regular basis then they tend to disappear. So I joined a gym and decided to take advantage wonderful free weights and equipment they have.
The results have been very good. I’m the strongest I’ve ever been in my life. I’m currently benching 80 percent of my body weight and my arms and chest have muscled out rather nicely. (Marathon Girl is really happy with the results.) As a result of this weight lifting, some of my shirts are becoming tighter in the chest and arm area – also a nice problem to worry about.
So yesterday I was doing a dumbbell chest press when I heard a ripping sound. Thankfully the sound wasn’t followed by a searing pain. I stopped lifting not sure that I had heard a ripping sound. I put the dumbbells on the floor and started making sure I was okay. Turns out I ripped my t-shirt under along the seam under my arm.
I was a little stunned what I had done. Me having big enough muscles to rip shirts doesn’t happen every day. But then the shock wore off and the euphoria set in. This was really cool!
And, no, I haven’t stopped running. My weekly workout routine includes three days of strength training, three days of running, and one day off. My weekly mileage has dropped but I’m still able to run four miles in under 30 minutes and keep up with Marathon Girl during parts of her long Saturday runs. (More on that in an upcoming blog entry.)
In the meantime I’m getting ready to rip more shirts.