The 300 Club

While some say life is for living, others say life is the reason for keeping score.

The number 300 fits into the scorecard.

If a baseball pitcher wins 300 games they know they’re going into the Baseball Hall of Fame, unless they were on the juice and lied about it to Congress.

If a batter hits .300 and plays the game at an equally high level in all other aspects, they belong in The Hall, unless they were on the juice and lied about it to Congress while pointing their finger.

If you weigh 300 pounds and can’t get off the couch, you belong in a weight loss clinic, though you’ll probably want to wait until you tip the scales around 400 so they know you’re serious.

If you race 300 miles at Indy, or Daytona, you’ve either got another two hundred to go, you’re crashed, or you’ve broken down.

If you are in a movie titled 300, you are a Spartan, and you’ve been working out.

Which brings us to this: if you want to bench press 300 pounds, you’ll find as many responses as the 300 pound person asking for weight loss advice.

Tell others you plan on benching 300, and you get:

“What are you trying to prove?”

“You’re too old.”

“You’ll just hurt yourself.”

“Check your ego, man.”

“That’s nice, but I don’t want to hear about it.”

“I did that in high school.”

“What’s this, something on your bucket list?”

“Wasn’t the USC football player benching 300 when he dropped the barbell on his neck?”

“You need to focus on maintaining fitness, not increasing your bench press numbers.”

You get the idea. How are you supposed to respond?

“What are you trying to prove?” Tell them you’ve trying to prove you can bench 300 lbs. Is that too difficult a concept?

“You’re too old.” Tell them you’ll be older next year and you’ve got to move on it now.

“You’ll just hurt yourself.” Tell them you already hurt yourself, but now you’re better.

“Check your ego, man.” Listen, it’s not sky diving, or climbing the highest mountain. Those are ego things.

“That’s nice, but I don’t want to hear about it.” The next time they ask about it, don’t tell them.

“I did that in high school.” Ask them what else they did in high school. A 300 bench in high school leads to a painful afterlife.

“What’s this, something on your bucket list?” Bucket list? That’s for sky diving and mountain climbing, things that will help you kick the bucket sooner.

“Wasn’t the USC football player benching 300 when he dropped the barbell on his neck?” It was probably more. Tell them you’ll have a spotter, just in case. The same guy broke his leg after the neck problem.

“You need to focus on maintaining fitness, not increasing your bench press numbers.” This makes the most sense. Some guys need something to push to, whether it’s a fast time running, a heavy weight lifting, or some kind of achievement.

With the 300 pound bench press comes membership in the 300 Club. How many oiled up strutters in your local gym can push that sort of weight? Not many. How many act like they could do it with one arm? Most of them.

If you get hurt, rehab the injury. Ask some of the guys you know who belong to the 300 Club for their advice.

How can I push 300:

Go heavy in your workout rotation to you get used to the weight.

Work your triceps.

Drive your traps into the bench and arch your back for a shorter arm extension.

Tighten up your grip and keep your shoulders down with your elbows forty five degrees from your sides.

Some make more sense than others. Do your homework and find what works best for your body type.

If you are not a stumpy barrel of a guy, just remember Wilt Chamberlain, all seven feet of him, said he could bench his weight back in the day, and he weighed 300 lbs.

Most of all, proceed with caution. But proceed.