The beauty of failure.

It hurts. It burns. My hands and arms are shaky. My stomach is upset and my vision has gone a little blurry.

This is the beauty of failure. Or a heart attack.

Chilly. Secluded. Perfect.

It truly is a beautiful thing when your body feels like it is shutting down because you have done so many reps of presses but yet you stand up shake it off and lay back down for another round until every cell in your body is depleted.

The beauty of bench pressing to failure.
The picture here was taken about 10 minutes before writing this blurb. I am on my 6th set. In my laboratory. My nirvana.

I realize I am only benching 110 pounds. I realize that I am using a smith machine. You, however, must realize that in this picture I have pushed my upper body to defeat. My first set was an easy 25 reps. Stand up, turn on the music.... Gotye is blaring. Quickly back down for a second set, 18 without rest but it is starting to burn. 3rd set. 4th set. 5th set. Less than 45 seconds between them.

6th set.

Shaky. The first 2 presses feel like feathers, but then the lactic acid remaining in my muscles rebel and I have nothing left. 2 more. I yell loudly. Really no way to not yell when all is spent. 'You ok dad?' calls one of my daughters. 'Yes! Fine!'

Latch it down. 'No you didn't have to stoop so low! Have your friends collect your records and then change your number....' Gotye finishes as I power the radio off. Never leave weights barred so I grudgingly rack the plates with trembling gloved hands.

Lights off. The lab is closed for the evening.

Failure is truly a most beautiful thing.