I've always loved weights. Big time. The dumbbells in my gym are like my children; small, hard and silver. Don't let me catch you touching them, they are mine. Donâ??t you dare touch my children.
I've been using the gym for weeks now, slowly working myself into tense mass of rigid strain. My development is already legendary, my commitment unflappable. I'll pick up anything you throw at me. Animal, vegetable, mineral. I canâ??t be stopped. I am lift.
That said, I do think it's important to know your limitations, this week for instance I pushed it too far and some people died. I didnâ??t do it intentionally but I can say that it is something I regret.
I've outgrown the weights at the gym, even the heaviest ones are the dumbbell equivalent of a concentration camp victim. Brittle and easy to lift. The smaller ones are almost embarrassing, honestly it's a ****ing joke. I used to have a 8k'er attached to a gold chain my old dear gave me one Christmas.
I wore it all the time but people kept telling me I looked a bit like a twat, and it got caught up in my steering wheel once and I drove off a bridge.
Anyway, I was watching a few mateys struggling with these things the other day when an idea hit me. I donâ??t usually have many thoughts but when I get one it's almost always a brilliant one. This one was definitely a really brilliant one. I'd try and lift the whole rack. These bastards can be easily beaten individually, but as one unit, as one combined weight, they could provide the challenge.
That was it, my adrenaline started surging and I felt my bowls loosen. Sweats started to pour from my face and my could feel my teeth chip as I ground them together like a pestle and mortar. As one last piece of mental preparation, I screamed. Half the gym must have **** themselves and one woman fell off a stepping machine. I was ready.
To be honest, trying to lift a tonne and a half of weights was probably overambitious. Almost immediately after lifting this I felt unbalanced. All the big weights were down one end and my left arm was in real trouble. Also the frame wasn't designed to be lifted and was awkward to hold properly.
I staggered uncontrollably to the left, picking up speed and I went and getting closer and closer to the window. I couldnâ??t risk going through the glass, the gym is on the 2nd floor and it was a hell of a drop to the car park below. To be honest I knew I was ****ed at this point.
The last thing going through my mind as I dropped the rack was the thought of failure. F.A.I.L.U.R.E. Failure just like my nan predicted. Failure in front of my peers, the very people I love to impress, intimidate and confuse in equal measure.
Looking back now I would probably have tried to hold on a little longer had I known a) how thin the floors were, b) the swimming pool was directly below and c) the pool was packed. The floor gave way like rice paper and the full set crashed into the pool below. Water from the pool splashed right up through the floor and into my face, this was actually quite refreshing and I felt quite content for a bit.
Then the horror of what had happened hit me. I wonâ??t tell you what I saw when I looked in through the hole in the floor. Needless to say it was . I'm not squeamish but I immediately wet my pants. After that I ran and ran and ran. Falling over and taking others down as I went.
It's been a few days now and I actually still think about it from time to time. lots of people died that day, crushed while swimming. Thatâ??s not a positive in anyone's book and I guess I carry some of the blame