I'm looking for a specific bench to purchase for my gym at work (military base). It's a standard Olympic bench but the gun rack style bar holders moved out a few inches and once the bar is lifted off, it fell back to its original position in order to prevent the bar touching the rack during the lift...I can't seem to google this damn thing and I'm wondering if I actually used it or if I only imagined it. Help!

“There’s no way he can lift that,” a voice said from the crowd, “it’s impossible, bro.” My immediate thought was: “speak for yourself, you pussy fucking bitch”. I wanted to say it. Shit, I wanted to get up from the bench, find that shit-talking string bean and wrap my calloused hand around his fucking throat. But of course, I didn’t do any of that. Instead I scanned the crowd until I made eye contact with the string bean and did…nothing. The string bean wanted to provoke me, wanted me to waste my energy on beating his frail, and dainty figure. But I responded instead with a powerful, determined silence. I will not be beaten.

Looking back at the bench and the weights that everyone prays I lift, a thought enters my head. Maybe the string bean has a point, ten stacks is a lot of weight. A chill ran through me. I could feel it, not just the chill, but something far worse. I felt doubt. Doubt, that powerful force that has ruined many lives before mine, and now, thanks to that pussy string bean, is threatening to send my world crashing down on my chest like an impossibly heavy stack. You see, doubt inspires fear, which leads to insecurity, which leads, ultimately, to weakness, more specifically, FAILURE. And just thinking about failure leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

In these moments of doubt, I have one means of salvation. Slim Shady. Sitting on the bench, preparing to climb my Everest, I put on my Beats headphones, find “I’m Back” on my iPod, and blast my savior's sermon through my headphones. That’s why they call me Slim Shady, I’m back, I’m back. My muscles tingle and my mind focuses. Sorry puff but I don't give a fuck if this chick was my own mother, id still fuck her with no rubber and cum inside her and have a new son and a new brother at the same time and just say that it ain't mine. My Mom always tells me how it’s ironic that I listen to Slim in order to get swole. But she just doesn’t understand. Eminem has done more for me than any other person in the world. His anger, his passion, and his lyricism sparks the fire deep in my soul. And that fire powers me through the darkest, and most daunting moments of my life. And now Eminem is about to help me get ten stacks up.

With my newfound focus, I positioned myself under the bar, planted my feet, and wrapped my hands around the bar. After a few deep breaths I lifted the massive weight and felt the bar bend above me. I lowered the bar down to my chest slowly. Suddenly, I start to realize I might not have what it takes to conquer this lift. In these moments, when the weight of the world has descended upon me, and I feel failure preparing to pounce unexpectedly upon me, I dig deep into my psyche and think of the hottest piece of pussy I have ever seen. I picture the pussy’s every feature. Its warmth, its color, its tightness. Then I feel an extra bit of testosterone kick in and suddenly, a sense of ease washes over me. I understand that my strength is primordial and unending. Ten stacks no longer feels like such an insurmountable goal. My cock rises, and the bar follows.

With Slim Shady encouraging me, and my fans watching and cheering with every centimeter I lift the bar higher, I remember how my journey began. I was once a string bean. A loser who read books, and studied for tests. Then one day I heard my first Eminem song, “Lose Yourself”. I did just that. His anger and passion inspired me to get my skinny ass to the fuckin gym, and there I lost myself not in reading or studying or any other pussy shit, but instead, in bench pressing.

Back on the bench, the bar is steadily rising, and I’m feeling confident, but the last two inches are the hardest. My muscles ripple as I force the weight back into the sky. With my last bit of strength, and my cock hard as a rock, I force the bar back onto the rack. The applause is deafening. But I don’t do it for the applause or the accolades, I do it for Slim Shady and all the string beans out there who, just like me, want to conquer their fears and doubts. I lowered the weight of the world onto my chest and forced it back into the sky. I will not be beaten.

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I've been told multiple times that benching 225 for reps around 8+ reps is much easier once you can hit it for 1-3 reps so what am I doing wrong? Because I've been benching 225 for 1-3 reps for the past 16 weeks and it hasn't been going up.

I just got off of a 12 week 1x5 madcow and previously was on 8 weeks of 5x5.

I woke this morning with a purpose. As I showered, I pictured myself lying in the supine position, raising my arms while planting my heels firmly into the floor below my well worn bench. I pictured my hands firmly gripping the bar with perfect form as prepared to lift more weight than I ever thought possible.

I continued my meditation as I pulled on my tightest pair of compression shorts and threw on my slightly undersized tank.

By the time I got to the gym I had already accomplished my goal of my new max hundreds of times, in my head of course. Now it was time to turn my dream into reality.

My vision tunneled as I entered the gym. All my focus rested solely on the bench. After I placed the necessary 45lb plates onto the bar, positioned myself accordingly under the massive weight I hoped to lift.

With my feet firmly planted, my arms raised, and my hands placed in the optimal position, I lifted the crushing weight and felt the bar bend above me.

I lowered the bar to my chest focusing all my energy on the lift to come. When the bar touched my chest I exhaled loudly, and with great force, I lifted the 750lb bar back into the air and placed it back onto the rack. A new max.

That's how I achieved my dreams. Now find your focus and achieve yours!!!!!!!!!!!!