It is inevitable, that when someone (mostly bro’s) hears that I strength train or compete in a strength sport will ask, “What’s your bench?” It’s nauseating. Of course I lie. Why? Because it’s a bullshit question. Ask me what my squat is; or where my PR deadlift occurred; or my worst Highlander event. Ask me ANYTHING worthwhile to show me that you know your way around the strength training world. But if all you know is a partial bench press, then my answer is usually, “5# more than you dude.”
Bench lies aside, I’ve been curious for quite some time why folks play make believe on the internet with their numbers. I’ll be the first to admit, I’m naive on the subject. Years ago, I whined to Stef how a girl who weighs about 30 pounds less than me, with less athletic talent, can post numbers bigger than mine on her training log. Her answer? “She’s lying dude!” (BTW, don’t call me dude. I’m not a dude. I’m a chick.)
My response? “Huh? People lie on their logs about their weights? Why?” Which got an eye roll and that was the end of the conversation. News to me. I don’t get it. I have literally been on the competition floor with people who’ve later lied about the amount of weight they moved. It boggles my mind. Telling some douchebag bro that I bench more than him is one thing, lying to others in the strength world makes you this:
People, you own your training. Numbers are only as important as you make them out to be. My PR squat is the warm up of many other women. Do I care? No. It’s my PR. Is it humbling to bench 100# less than a local Strongwoman who trains at the gym while I rehab my back? Yup. Will I EVER catch her (real this time) bench? Nope. But my numbers are my own and I’ll own them. They may not be as impressive as I’d want them to be, but lying just makes me a douche AND weak. Unacceptable.
Deadwood quote of the day:
“Ya, glad I taught you THAT fucking word.”