Herrera

Alfredo Herrera is a watchful man. His lips only part in absolute necessity, and 
the words he speak only take the form of Spanish and Russian, with a few 
English phrases thrown in here and there. He is a man of vast experience, a father 
modern weightlifting. He has coached lifters across the globe, and brought the 
Cuban team 5 world records in his first year of duty.  He has also brought gold medals to the Columbian national team, and is an expert in the Soviet weightlifting system, of which he had a huge part in creating.  While others claim depth of experience and concrete knowledge,      their form, their words, their philosophies, all crumble to dust beneath his steely eyes. 

Today, he sat in our small gym and watched me, among other lifters, attempt 
their workouts with great caution, as we all felt his gaze across our bodies.  The gym             eminated thick clouds of unbreakable focus. To say I felt anxious would be a complete and    utter understatement. My only wish was for this little old man, who has coached champions astruly groundbreaking as Pablo Lara, to approve of my attempts, and my discipline to the spor 

Snatch after snatch, jerk after clean, my mind was blank, and my gaze unbroken. 
As the rain poured in record deluge just outside, I knew nothing but the bar. 
Straight and true, I did not miss. I could feel the eyes of the doctor. His 
stare, his sharp mind exploring me, testing me, forcing the best from my 
muscles. 

That day I knew no fatigue, only the bar in my hands

At last, at last the weight was, for the final time that day, perched perfectly 
above my deep split, and deliberately I stood. For a moment I held it there, proud I had not

missed before this god of weightliftng.  It was true.  I had not missed a lift.  They weren't the

heaviest I'd done, nor the most solid, but I had not missed, and I was proud of that.  I brought the bar back to the platform again, and began to unload the plates in silence.  

When I finally worked up the courage to look at Dr. Herrera again, he hadn't moved, and 

somehow expected our eyes to meet.  His lips parted, and for a moment, the world around me dissapeared.

"Good.  Very good."  

My soul jumped from my body.  Approval.  I had gotten approval.  The rain may pour, my 

knees and hips may ache, but I had gotten approval from this god.  

To all who may be interested, I didn't stop there.  Dr. Herrera came and watched my workout the next day too, where I proceeded to solidly snatch 87kg, a Personal Record for me by 2kg.  90 is right around the corner, I can feel it.  Maybe next week, at last, I'll throw more than 

200lbs above my head in one fantastic lift.