I want to wage a war against push ups. I want them to be discredited as a viable strength-building activity. I want to erase the term entirely from fitness vernacular. In short, I want them to burst into flames.
On some level, I really do understand that they are good for me, but this recognition is layers and layers beneath the surface of my rational consciousness. My rational thought cannot move past the hate. I’m sure some of you who are reading this are all like ‘What’s the big deal? Push ups aren’t THAT hard!’. I used to think so, too. Then I learned I was doing them all wrong, letting all the right muscles off the hook by overcompensating with all the wrong muscles. And that is when I saw push up’s true colours, and vowed to make them my mortal enemies.
When it comes to push ups, I am a hot mess. I have been working with my trainer for 2.5 months and I am still hard-pressed to get through a full three sets without completely losing form (and my will to live). The more she integrates new (and painful) variations, the worse I perform. My arms and shoulders have given up the desire to get stronger, which causes my back to give a valiant effort to overcompensate.
What infuriates me most, and why I feel so committed to this campaign against them, is that they never seem to get any easier. They are like the groundhog day of exercises. Every day I wake up thinking they will feel different, that suddenly my muscles will start to respond to the repetition, but every day I am disappointed as my upper body lets me down. This is counter to how muscles and strength should function, which leads me to believe that push ups are nothing but evil incarnate. I do not know how to eradicate them, but I am confident that if we all put our heads together we can come up with a plan of attack and live unimaginably beautiful push up free lives.
Who’s with me?