I set a new deadlift record today.
65kg.
Which is a little bit more than my bodyweight.
I’ve been plateauing at 60kg for months, telling myself I just need a little bit more time until I can increase the weight.
The fear of injuring myself again always lingering somewhere in the background.
Years of pain from two herniated discs in 2018 takes time to process. To unravel.
The discovery of gymnastics rings last year and my travels to China & Taiwan this year have sped up my healing process tremendously to a point that
I’m 95% pain-free these days. But this is a story for another time.
Back to the deadlift. I’ve been creating stories around not being ready. I can only increase the weight, if I go to the gym more often. If I changed my warm-up sets.
If I did more leg exercises. But I’ve been lifting 8 reps of 60kg for a while. It’s not a huge leap I’ll be taking.
The number 60 felt like a weird reference point that I didn’t want to let go of. My anchor of security. An invisible line that indicated: up to here you are safe. You don’t know what will happen once you cross this threshold.
It continues to amaze me, how much a physical workout is really mindset training. Continuously stretching my limits. Day by day. Knowing when to rest. And when to push more.
Participating in group sessions (be it pole, dance, handstand or calisthenics) with professional coaches over the last year, helped me gain confidence and breaking through many blockages and beliefs of ‘not possible’.
After I went from three to five pull-ups this year and finally unlocked the press to handstand (a skill that was extremely mentally challenging due to the compression work and again the fear of lower back injury), a 65kg deadlift feels like another small win.
It’s not an impressive number considering that I’ve been going to the gym on and off for a decade.
But it feels incredible to arrive at that step looking back on my journey. Years of pain and uncertainty if I’ll ever be able to live pain-free. Years of small daily pep talks. Years of experimenting with different movements that don’t provoke pain. Years of getting to know my body and back in a way that I hadn’t thought possible. Years of not giving up on the joy that I experience when I’m moving.
I have grown a sharp awareness of my body that wouldn’t have been possible without pain (probably except for being a professional athlete). I continue to discover new parts of my body. New connections, muscles and tendons. I discover new physical activities that target every part from a different angle.
Being strong in my upper body doesn’t automatically make me look good on a pole.
Being mobile doesn’t make dancing in heels less difficult. (hello calves and ankles!)
Happy 65.
Maybe I’ll start a personal CV for myself tracking all the small wins that no one cares about but me.
The date when I overcame a mental limitation. The one time I sought resolution after a difficult conversation. Or when I broke my people pleaser pattern and stood up for myself. Or finally apologised for being wrong. Or shared something vulnerable despite feeling ashamed about sounding potentially entitled and whiny.
It feels good to see and acknowledge small changes.
To choose a slightly different outcome for the same old story.
Today I chose 65.