There are more than six hundred muscles in the body. Yes, you read that right. Bet that explains the unexplainable soreness after your last workout, someplace you “didn’t know existed”. It sure did for me. Here’s another fun fact: humans are born with all the muscle fibre they will ever have. Which means we don’t produce any muscular fibres while we live, they simply grow thicker. Taking this, and a few billion other facts into account, you’ll slowly begin reach the tip of the iceberg that muscles are - my friend Eline who studies medicine will tell you all about this. What truly amazes me, though, is my muscles’ ability to gain strength.
When you work out you’re actually breaking your muscles. Not substantially, but weightlifting causes microtears in your muscular fibres, which in turn will build up again and thus become stronger. No pain, no gain, right, muscles? This is why recovery is of the essence; your muscles need time to recuperate, and allow for the fibres to become thicker. And my, oh my does the body learn how to do this at top speed and efficiency if you just teach it how.
I remember lying on a bench in Swaziland about three years ago, struggling severely with one rep of 10 kilos on the bench. When I needed help for the second one, my friend told me that benching wasn’t for girls, anyway - something about boobs becoming smaller (now there’s false statement number one of that year) and chest looking less feminine. I think my peer was trying to comfort me a little in my utter failure, but all he did was plant a seed in my mind. It grew into two separate plants, which have taken a lot of pruning and pulling to remove. The first plant (the less aggressive of the two) told me that as a girl, there were some muscles I simply didn’t need to work on. They were men muscles - non-unisex. The other plant, however, was a dangerous sprout. It argued I wasn’t strong enough. That bodybuilding for women was reserved for those few on steroids who look like gingerbread on Christmas Eve.
It was long after this, sometime last year, that I begun some serious mind gardening. I began to realise that girls are just as capable to work towards a fitness goal as men are. And not just a fitness goal: a bodybuilding goal. Elementary, right? But not till March this year did I get back on the bench. Amazingly, my months of working on my chest and biceps off the press had made me strong enough to bench 20 kilos without much struggle, at least if I kept my reps low and sets few. Then, as Ariz and I switched to our diet, I decided to push myself harder. I started increasing my reps and sets until the 20 was a minor piece of cake. About a month ago, I started on the 30 kilo. In the beginning, it was tough, but not so tough as to make my muscles go home for tea and biscuits. I could do it. And every week, my fibres had grown thicker, giving me more power - more strength, I should say - to work towards my goal. It’s an intoxicating feeling, strength. Now, I’ve started to understand why professional athletes feel invincible. There is a riveting flow of happiness that rushes through you as you realise your muscles are fully capable of doing what you’re asking of them.
Becca Swanson’s world record for female bench pressing is 270 kilos. Take that, you stupid boy from a few years back. 270 kilos. And her boobs look just fine and dandy. She’s probably got some of the thickest muscle fibre around, too. Me, I still have a long way to go. I don’t even know if I’ll ever reach my 90 kilo goal, but if I ever do, I’ll be the happiest muscle owner in the world. And now that they know - my muscles - where I hope to be, I’m sure they’ll get me there one day at a time.
