My friend Matt just benched 200 kilos/440 lb. in competition, and in doing so set a new personal record (PR) in the bench press. This is after years of struggling with a busted knee that has retired him from the Highland Games (in which he was a two-time World Champion) and completely rearranged his priority list in terms of lifting and exercise. He is scheduled for a total knee replacement surgery in the coming months, so the preparation for this meet held a special meaning for him, as well as those close to him. It was important for Matt to prove to himself that, despite his injury, he is still able to prepare and execute like a competitor when the time comes. Nothing proves that better than hitting a PR when it counts.

Was Matt’s bench the biggest one on that day? Hell no. It wasn’t even the best in his weight class I would wager. I can tell you with confidence why that doesn’t matter in the least. Matt’s lift wasn’t about winning or losing against an external force. It wasn’t about performing better than someone else. It was about harnessing that primal, human drive to put in effort and get better. Whether it’s under a barbell, on the field of play, in the office, buried in research, or growing a family, the fundamental drive is the same: “I want to see just how well I can do this with the tools available to me.”


“All I need to do to get grounded again is open up Instagram and see any one of my phenomenally strong friends doing something with a barbell.”

In between lifting in my home gym, I will sometimes lift at the local YMCA. While lifting weights with a toddler under your feet might sound like a fun challenge, it can be a little distracting. So, at the Y, she gets to play with other kids her age, break some new and different toys, have a dance party; I get to train with the benefit of mirrors on the walls so I can see just how ugly I’ve gotten.

There is a sort of dangerous ego trap when lifting at a very accessible gym like the YMCA. When you train at a place like Gold’s Gym, a Crossfit, or a true powerlifting gym, the odds are incredibly small that you are the strongest or most capable person there that day. In my experience so far at the Y, this is not the case. I am by no means “actually” strong but there are times when my weights get ogled, and conversations get struck up about how much I am lifting. I even get blessed with the older fellas telling me how much they used to lift before ‘fill in the blank’ injury or life event. Yes, it’s a confidence booster. I’m experienced enough now to not let it go to my head, though. All I need to do to get grounded again is open up Instagram and see any one of my phenomenally strong friends doing something with a barbell.

My last session was different though. While deadlifting, a young man, early 20’s at most, came in and started getting set up to bench press. He was thickly built, not overtly muscular, but looked strong. He was wearing…wait for it…jeans with a t-shirt tucked in. Completing the outfit was a huge shiny rodeo-style belt buckle and a pair of western-style work boots. I’ve always had a theory that at any given moment in time, there is someone in a YMCA somewhere working out in jeans. Looks like more evidence is piling up in support, that’s all I’m saying.


“I’m in there lifting against me…”

Before you start chuckling too much at the young man, let’s talk about his workout. He warmed up with 135. Pretty standard, right? Banged out 10 reps. Cool. Next up? 275. Big jump, but I respect the hustle. You’re young, get after it! Next, 315 for a set of 10. Then 365 for 4.

Four sets. Then he was done.

Since I haven’t graduated to YMCA Elder status just yet, I minded my own business and moved on to dumbbell rows. Luckily, one of the aforementioned older fellas stepped up to tell him how much he benched when he was younger. These two knew each other apparently, so the older man was happy to give some advice on accessory work. The younger man was trying to “get past 405 finally” so they were gameplanning. As painful as it was to listen to at times, the older man did suggest some upper back work. Solid! The young bench prodigy then questioned him along the lines of “So is the bench press not really working my back?”

That young man has never had a day in his adult life where he doesn’t bench press more than I ever will, and he doesn’t know that the movement doesn’t work your back. His accessory work was 3 sets of curls and then he was done.

Talent exists, y’all.

Now, am I broken up about this? Discouraged? Nah. It’s tempting to be, and as a younger man I probably would have been. “But I’ve got a great grasp of exercise physiology and use a great program! How can this be?!” It just doesn’t work like that. I’m in there lifting against me, and he is in there lifting against him. Just as I look with admiration on his talent and the results of his hard work, some people might see me lifting and have a similar experience. The only difference is perspective. I am training to reach goals and add positive experiences to my life. Maybe his goals are different. Getting past 405 on the bench will hopefully unlock a whole new level of challenge for him. Maybe not. Maybe that will be enough for him and he will find something else to chase.

It’s easy for us to look at people like Blue Jeans Bencher and start to think that our accomplishments don’t matter. I’ve fallen victim to that mentality many times. Specifically, in the realm of lifting weights, it’s really easy to forget how little physical strength many people possess and how foreign the idea of training for strength is. We spend all of our time (rightfully) looking up at people putting up bigger numbers, but we so quickly forget how much progress we have made by simply dedicating ourselves to it. It’s acceptable to feel proud of what you have made of yourself. That doesn’t mean you’re better than anyone that lifts less, or worse than anyone that lifts more. It just means you are in the midst seeing how well you can do something with the tools available to you. You’ve bought the ticket. You’re taking the ride. Do it with dedication, class, and a smile, and you might just get some more people to buy that ticket.