Sometimes stopping

Over the weekend, I started to do my heavy lifting workout.  Heavy lifting is not something to do alone, which is why I do it on the weekend:  my spotter is home then, although he often finishes breakfast while I get the warm up and the first few lighter sets done.  I didn’t get very many sets in this time.  Something wasn’t right on my second set of squats.  I switched to deadlifts, which took out most of the pain, but not all of it.

So I stopped.  Not because I wanted to stop.  I have as much stubbornness as anyone and no silly barbell is going to tell me what I can and can’t do, thank you very much.   But I realized that I would tell my client to stop.

It was hard.  It was frustrating.  I was mad as I dragged my hurting behind up the stairs to the shower.  And it was the right decision because now I am not in pain.

Next time I do heavy lifting, I will do some extra warming up.  Between now and then, I’ll be seeing how my body works in cardio and Pilates and yoga contexts.  This is the only body I get, so I need to take care of it.  Most of the time, that means making it a little uncomfortable, pushing it to go a little faster, a little longer, a little harder.  Sometimes it means stopping.