Pain shot through my back.
Shocking, excruciating pain. The kind that takes your breath away.
It started mid-spine and radiated outward, wrapping around my ribs, then upward toward my neck.
I gasped for air, dropped my dumbbells, and collapsed to the ground.
It felt oddly good to lie there on the cold concrete of my basement exercise room. If I stayed still, I could regroup and take account of what happened. But the slightest twitch brought immediate suffering.
Even breathing hurt.
Had I warmed up before working out, I could have avoided twisting my back muscles into a tangled hammock. But I dove right in, curling heavy weights completely cold.
Over the next two weeks while my back muscles healed, I’d live to regret it.
Moving as deliberately as I’ve ever moved in my life, I attempted to get up. And, with every painful move, I could hear my trainers’ voice in my head: “You’re old as fuck bruh. You gotta spend the time getting your muscles ready so you don’t hurt yourself.”
Lesson learned.