I remember the day when I first touched you, you gave me bubbly, aching calluses. My hands went from soft and dainty to lifting-certified. I’d spend hour picking at my hand calluses -- this is when I knew, this was how my free time would look like as a lifter.
When I didn't want to bench press, you made sure the fear of being pinned by the weight will drive me to press harder. I learned humility when I was pinned by the weight from bench press, that I can expect to nobody to come to my rescue.
Barbell roll, anyone?
My dear barbell, when I first put you on my non-existing traps to squat, I looked a confused baby giraffe. But after a few years of practice, I learned that traps do indeed grow. Oh, and they grew.
You know what else grew?
We spent time doing awesome things together. From high-bar squats, to the sexy barbell hip thrust. When I couldn't figure out the cable machines, you'd do that rusty smile from across the room, knowing that you will always be best thing I'd ever have.