The barbell sits at the centre of the gym floor.
Doing nothing.
A glance.
A sigh.
And I move on to the next exercise.
But out of sight is not always out of mind.
30 kg plates on each side.
Another 15 kg for the barbell.
75 in total.
I do the math in between the sets.
Paltry.
That's what I would have called it 6 years ago.
Covid?
Lethargy?
Age?
Deadlift, for now, was unthinkable.
Even going beyond 32.5 kg on RDL tested my confidence.
Yet, I couldn't stop looking in its direction.
I walk towards it.
Bend down.
Take the grip.
Adjust width.
Turn back.
Voice of sanity pounding inside my skull.
Another exercise.
Another set.
I walk towards it again.
I linger longer.
Head, surprisingly, is quiet this time.
I bend down.
Take the grip.
Adjust feet width.
Breathe deep.
Brace my core.
The lift is smooth.
The descent, not so.
Just past the knees, I let the barbell go.
No elation followed.
The ego had made its presence felt.