Life Lessons: The Time CT Fletcher Almost Got Me Killed

I almost died because of CT Fletcher

If you have never heard of CT Fletcher, please open a new tab, google him, watch one of his videos and come back. Go ahead, I will wait.


That’s some serious shit right?

CT is one of the baddest dudes in the history of the galaxy. World record holding weight lifter and the definition of old man strength (which is a real thing by the way). One or two of this dudes videos will make you realize what a fucking sissy you are and trade in your excuses for a gym membership. With his ‘more is more’ philosophy, CT got me through more than one workout with his high intensity motivational videos, one of which in hindsight probably almost got me killed.

Maybe I’m exaggerating just a touch. The correct wording would be ‘I almost killed myself’.

So me and my wife were fighting one day

Our passions runs very high, in every aspect of life. We love with our whole hearts and fight with every ounce of our soul. When a Mexican and a Mexican/Irish bump heads, it is comparable to World War 4. (It’s so bad it skips an entire war). Me and my wife had a verbal fight to the death one day and went our separate ways, vacating to opposite ends of the house to partake in various tasks to occupy our time while we gave each other the silent treatment. This went on for hours.

So I decided to go out to the garage and blast some CT in my headphones

Now this was about 10:15pm, my wife works 3rd shift as a night nurse so she was getting ready to leave for the night. I’m still super pissed from our earlier fight and that rage is transforming into workout motivation. I watch a clip of one of CT’s speeches where he discusses attempting a record-setting bench press after having open heart surgery, where he was advised by doctors to never touch weights again.

What did he tell himself to get that weight to go up and down? Not only had he never pressed that much weight, but now he was recovering from open heart surgery to boot. His thought process?

“I’m either going to press this weight, or die right here on the fuckin bench!”

This. got. me. so. fucking. pumped.

So what did I do? What any absolutely delusional pissed off husband would do at 10:30 at night, I loaded the bar with an amount of weight I’d never pressed before, and attempted to do it on my own.

I failed to realize that while CT gutted out his PR, he probably did so with the help of a spotter. I loaded 315 pounds onto the bar, and slipped the collars on. My previous PR had been 265. But this was it, I was either going to press that weight, or i was gonna die right there on the bench!

I apparently chose the die right there option.

I unracked the weight and brought it down to my chest in perhaps the fastest eccentric movement in history, and it was at that moment I realized i had made a huge mistake. The bar was stuck on my chest, and the collars prevented me from dumping the weight. I mustered every single ounce of strength in my body and went full super sayain, letting out a large grunt i managed to move the bar!

Right onto my neck.

So here I am, 10:30 at night, in my garage with 315 pounds of iron on my wind pipe. I am grunting as loud as i can and basically performing a max-effort isometric hold to keep this bar from crushing my throat and killing me. This went on for what felt like an hour, in reality it was probably about 2 minutes.

My wife , thank God, was walking out of the house past the garage to leave for her shift when she heard my horrifying shrieks of terror. She walked in to find me belly up totally helpless trying not to die. Keep in mind we hadn’t spoken in hours and I had been a total ass to her that day. She could have let me suffer just a bit longer or perhaps even let me die. But being the saint that she is, she rushed and yanked the collars off of both sides so i could dump the weight.

Moral of the story

  • Don’t let CT Fletcher get you too hyped
  • Always have a spotter when you are lifting heavy
  • Make up as soon as possible with your wife, you just might need her to pull 315 pounds off of your trachea.

Had my wife not been walking to the car for her shift, or had she left a little bit sooner or later, I would not be writing this post. Know your limits people.


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