I've been informally helping out a girl at my gym get ready for a meet this summer in Texas. I suggested we hit a more local meet to see what kind of numbers she could put together now. We picked a meet being run out in Amish country run by bench pressing legend Gene Rychlak. Gene formed his own organization years ago called RPS and he runs some great meets in the Philly, New Jersey and surround areas.  Saturday morning at the crack of dawn I drove out and picked up Sally and her friend in a part of the city called Manyunk and we make the hour and a half drive out to Lancaster. She weighs in way under the 148lb limit and we roll out real quick to grab breakfast. Like most powerlifters she is inhaling a huge stack of pancakes making orgasmic noises like she hadn't eaten in a week but I had physically seen her eat pancakes just the day before and she did it then too . . . so apparently  she has some weird fetish for pancakes. She said she really likes pancakes because she is a vegan, now I'm no chef and I'm really not exactly sure what pancakes are made of but I think there could be milk or eggs or even both in pancakes.

Now I haven't attended too many powerlifting meets lately, especially not ones where I really had to pay attention to what was going on but I noticed some things that surprised me, made me feel bad and just made me laugh. One thing I noticed were how many lifters were competing who just had no idea what they were doing. I'm talking about people who had no idea how the meet was actually going to be run, what was going to happen next, had coaches who didn't know shit either, weren't familiar with any of the rules etc.  C'mon, do a little homework people, all this info is out there. I kind of wanted to help them but didn't want to step on anyone's toes.

Most of the other women there were first timers and seemed way more concerned with not feeling comfortable in a singlet. Sally even told me there was a big pow wow in the ladies room over what kind of underwear each of them wore underneath and what was actually appropriate. I know to some of you perves out there this discussion may seem kinda hot . . . and I'm right there with you!  I also saw a group of teenage boys who looked extremely concerned over the singlet situation. I guess since they have all been brought up on huge baggy shorts and boxers this was the first time in their lives they have ever worn anything short and tight because all of them were constantly trying to pull the legs down and tugging at their dicks for some reason. I grew up in the late 70's era of tight shorty shorts and tighty whiteys so I never had that problem.

Sally performed well, she missed her third attempt squat and her third attempt bench but was very close at both. She smoked her first two deads so I called for 305 on her third. The lift was moving great and she was just getting ready to easily lock it out and all the sudden for no reason she screamed and hiked it up with her arms and locked it out. My excitement quickly turned to disappointment because I knew they were going to call her for a hitch. As she walked towards me all excited for locking it out I could see the red lights go up behind her. I told her to turn around and she was totally confused at what went wrong. Her failure as a lifter is actually my failure as a coach because I never told her what hitching a deadlift was and that it was not legal. She never hitched a lift in training so it just never came up.  She was still happy for making the lift and with good technique so she grabbed a first place trophy and we were on our way.

While we were there at the meet it had started snowing and by the time we were ready to leave there was a good six inches on the ground and the roads were really bad. A ninety minute drive turned into a five hour, white knuckle, nerve wracking trip which was highlighted by this nifty maneuver I pulled. I was wearing a hoody sweatshirt and a big Carhart jacket over top and I was burning up during the drive I told Sally to help me pull it over my head really quick so I could take it off and get my eyes back on the road before I cause any mayhem. At the time of this trick I was in the left lane with a concrete wall to my left and cars all around me. "I say, "ready, set, GO!" We both pull the jacket over my head but she must have also grabbed the the hood on the hoody and it only made it halfway over my head and the hoody is now over my face and my arms are trapped hockey fight style and I am so discombobulated that I can't see shit, we are both now in a full panic and instead of grabbing the wheel Sally is pulling at my clothes making it worse, I'm screaming, Sally is screaming, her friend in the back seat is screaming, I could hear people in other cars screaming and honking horns. When I finally got my bearings back about six seconds later I had drifted across all the right hand lanes and almost killed everyone.

We finally make it back to Philly and if anyone is familiar with the Manyunk section you know that it's streets are all these fucking steep hills with cars parked on both sides and barely enough room to drive a truck through. Why anyone lives there is beyond logical thinking. Thank god my Dodge 4X4 was able to get through there on those icy hills. When I finally made it home it took a few slugs of whiskey to calm my nerves.