Alright folks, buckle up. Wanna talk about that whole 50kg freestyle thing. Yeah, sounds impressive, right? Spoiler: it wasn’t pretty.
Getting Started (More Like Getting Stupid)
So yesterday I’m feeling, uh, ambitious. Probably saw some clip online. Thought, “Hey, 50kg bench press, freestyle? How hard could it be?” Famous last words. Grabbed my log book – the messy one with coffee stains – scribbled “Freestyle 50kg Attempt?!” at the top. Big question mark. Smart.
Dragged myself to the garage gym. It’s hot, smells like rubber and old sweat. Pulled out the rusty Olympic bar. Wrestled those 20kg plates – seriously, why are they always SO sticky? – and managed to get one on each end. Added a couple of little 2.5kg plates. Bam. Roughly 50kg. Good enough. Honestly, just getting the weight on felt like a workout.
The “Freestyle” Part (A.K.A Controlled Chaos)
Laid down on the bench. It creaked. That’s always encouraging. Got my grip – wide, felt kinda powerful for a second. Lowered it slow-ish. Felt heavy but okay. Then came the push.
First rep: Grunted it up. Not smooth. Felt like my arms weren’t talking to each other.
Second rep: Slower on the way down. Push was messy. Left plate wobbled like crazy. Had to lock out all weird.
Third rep: This is where it went south. Bar path felt like a drunk snake. One elbow flared, the other tucked too much. Got it up, barely. Ribs screaming.
Fourth rep: Pure panic. Lowered it, stalled halfway up. Legs started kicking like I was swimming. Made ugly noises only dogs should hear. Somehow got the bar back on the rack. Chest heaving. Wanted to die for a split second.
The Aftermath (A.K.A Feeling Like a Wet Noodle)
Sat up. Dripping sweat onto the dusty floor. Arms were jelly. Legs? Still shaking from the kicking-drowning routine. Looked at the bar like it personally offended me.
Grabbed the log book. Scribbled:
- 50kg Freestyle Attempt: “Technique? HA! Rough. VERY rough.”
- Reps: “4-ish? Last one barely counts. Almost died.”
- Weight Felt Like: “A freaking truck.”
- Biggest Mistake: “Thinking 50kg freestyle was a good idea.”
Stared at the entry. Laughed a little. Maybe snorted. Called it a “learning experience” in the notes. That’s just me being nice to myself. Reality? Ego got checked, hard.
So yeah. That’s the glamorous story of my 50kg freestyle attempt. Looks cool written down. Reality was pure, messy, chaotic effort. Surprise surprise, respect the weight. Or it kicks your butt.
