The Bench

Alex Zhang (Grade 11)

The bench sits in the corner of my basement, rusted and worn down, but thoroughly used. From the day I picked it up from my cousin’s house in New York, all disassembled and disregarded, I have always enjoyed the bench press. Lying atop that fake-leather bench, with the barbell right above my eyes, I feel a quiet sense of control. Every time I begin benching, every time that barbell is brought down and pushed up, I am reminded that it is only my mind and my body which keeps this bar elevated. 

Sometimes, when I have something on my mind, I dash down to that corner of the basement and bench. The action of benching demands so much effort that it is simply foolish to think of anything else. This complete isolation for me, even if only temporary, is a terrific break from the constant distractions that is life today. On the occasions when the bar dips too low and scrapes onto my chest, I can feel a sliver of that weight. Then I push up onto the bar with even more force, making sure the bar remains elevated. There is no one to help if I can’t push the bar back up. I have learned this through having to recover from failures in some pretty interesting ways. It is only the barbell, its weights, and I. Perhaps this genuine and individual struggle is what attracts me to this exercise. While I concentrate all of my energy on those two simple movements – pushing the bar up and bringing it down — I feel as if I go through a mental reset. Leaping off the seat afterwards, I am filled with renewed energy, helping me come back to my original task with a clear and focused mind.. 

The slow but steady rate of improvements that I make means that every 5 pound improvement brings a sense of elation for me. The smallest interval with my barbell is five pounds, consisting of two of the smallest weights that I have, 2.5 pounds, with one weight placed on each side of the bar. This small difference in weight, for such a laborious activity, can be the deciding factor between one more repetition, one more act of lowering and raising the bar, or complete failure. In time, I have consistently increased the weight while still keeping good form and the same number of repetitions. Last summer, just after I built the frame of the bench and started benching, I made the starter mistake of attempting a very heavy weight, which resulted in a measly two repetitions. Now, after more than half a year of gradually adding 2.5 pound weights, after constantly benching, I can quickly and efficiently press out 10 repetitions of that very weight. Every time I can do 5 pounds more, every time I put those tiny fist-sized 2.5 plates on each side, I am genuinely proud of myself, for I know that I have unarguably improved.

Through these difficult struggles, these laborious but consistent improvements, through all the times where I have cleared my mind and reset my focus, the bench has been there, in the corner, no longer disassembled and disregarded. I know it will continue to support me, pushing up heavier and heavier weights.