Personal Growth Sucks

I’m in the first weight pit session after dinner. It opens when the yard opens. Since the front door of my unit is closest to the back forty, I’m usually one of the first two people in line for the pit, so I have first choice of which benches and weights to use, minus the equipment already grabbed by the porters.

Yesterday, I took the bench in the corner and put a barbell down in front of it. It was deadlift day. Two gangbangers grabbed the squat rack a few feet away.

I was in the process of loading plates on the bar when one of them interrupted.

“Hey, bruh, you gotta move that bar. You’re taking up two spots,” he growled.

“Huh?” I was sick of this kind of shit–guys coming in late, and *telling* (not asking) us to move. “What’re you talking about? There’s room,” I said while bent over, loading plates on the bar.

“I’M TELLING YOU TO MOVE. THAT’S WHAT THE FUCK I’M TALKING ABOUT!” He was now inches from my face, and his friend stood a couple feet behind him. Half the pit watched for my reaction.

I pretended to not notice his aggressive entitlement. “Sheesh, it ain’t that serious,” I said, and went to grab a couple clamps.

Truthfully, I wanted to smash his face in with the 45 pound steel plate. Instead, I picked up the 225 lb. bar and carried it 10 feet away. Normally, I’d do sets of 7-8, but I was so jacked up, I hit 10-12 reps each set (and got my best workout in months).

Dickhead and his partner proceeded to take up the area I had previously occupied, plus an additional two stations. Worse, they curled baby rattles. He literally did the same thing which he accused me of, and could barely lift! 

I might have taken the high road, but it did not feel good in the moment. I was emasculated by a weakling. Violent fantasies raced thru my head for the next 45 minutes, but I tried to remember how costly it would be to act on them.

Shutting him up would’ve cost me weight pit privileges for a year, or maybe even the rest of my bit. I would’ve gotten a class 1 ticket, and had I used the metal plate, an assault charge. I would’ve been moved out of the relatively peaceful unit where I currently lock, and moved into a shitty unit full of awful people. In all likelihood, I’d be shipped across the bridge to another prison. Every possible consequence sucked.

I’m trying to go home, not impress the other losers in the weight pit. Avenging every sign of disrespect with violence is a fruitless exercise. In the grand scheme of things, it was a minor incident I wouldn’t remember in 10 years.

Published May 19, 2025