It’s morning. I’m feeling good. The bar hangs in the doorway and I eye it up like a nerd who finally grows a backbone, tosses his glasses aside and struts up to the beauty queen while showdown by the Electric Light Orchestra pumps over all other sound. He doesn’t just ask her out, but tells her You. Me. Saturday night.
Except that it’s me and the chin-up bar and we’re not going out. No. The impossible odds I’m trying to overcome are not those of a dork winning over the lady at the top of the social pecking order. I’m going to slowly lower myself to the full hanging position. Bad friggin’ ass, I know.
I grip hard. I raise my chest to just beneath the bar. I clench my biceps. Flex my shoulders. And take the step.
It’s no 4 second decent, but it is controlled. Oh, and did I mention I tied an extra 5 pound weight around me? Booyah! But, like the middle of any rise-of-the-dorks movie after the first 20 of these I was pretty much back to the slight-resistance plummet. Such a cruel tease… just like those damn prom queens. But, as you know, this movie ain’t even but a fifth of the way over. I’ll win her over in the end.
So. Those hanging leg raises. If I ever get to feeling like I’m accomplishing something, they’re always there to tell me I’m still nothing. Here is what the final position is supposed to look like, based on the workout I’m following:
Here is what my final position looks like:
As you can see by my strain face, I clearly ripped a hole in my shirt from trying so hard. Clearly. And look at that form. Nice, tight and straight am I right? I’m not right. Now, in turning to the almighty internet, “hanging leg raise” returns a lot of results that look like this:
… and I’m still not even close.
- Stick ups
- Assisted weighted pull ups with controlled descent
- Assisted pull ups (no extra weight)
- Bent over row
- Reverse dumbbell fly
- Hanging leg raises
- Turned out bicep curls
- Chest press
- Push ups
- Stability ball planks
- Dumbbell squat
- Stiff legged dead lifts
- Spider crawl
- Mountain climbers