Michelle wiped her face with the hand towel she kept handy, then tossed it over one of the safety bars of the squat cage. She contemplated the loaded barbell waiting for her. The bar was heavy, not quite twice her body weight. There were people in this town who could probably curl that much or more with one hand, but it represented her current goal--and a slight increase over her personal record. When she'd begun strength training all those years ago at Amanda's insistence, she'd never imagined that she'd be able to move this much iron.
She shouldered the barbell for her third and final set of five reps, stepped carefully back and shifted slightly to settle her stance, then squatted. She straightened slowly. "One." Again. "Two." And Again. "Three." On the fourth repetition, she slowed to a halt, unable to muster the strength to stand. She struggled for thirty seconds, gamely trying to complete the lift. Her legs wobbled, and she sank down to one knee. The barbell clattered against the cross bars, taking the weight of the barbell off her shoulders so it didn't crush her beneath it.
"And that, boys and girls," Michelle muttered to herself, "is why you use a squat cage."