So after putting it off for a few weeks I finally went into the new powerlifting gym that opened up down the street, and explained about my recent shoulder issues and my desire for professional one-on-one training on the major lifts.
BTW, these guys have it all. Sleds, great big concrete balls you lift up and put on the shelf, olympic platform with bumper plates, 3 power cages, bands everywhere, chains, blah, blah, blah. But that's not part of this story.
The first question the guy asked actually had me laughing out loud. "Do you want to compete in our local meets?" I said no way, not this skinny computer nerd.
So during the tour and the chat every five minutes either Sam or Steve would bring up the competition again, and I say something like, "I'm not sure I can post 800lb in a powerlifting meet, and right now I can't bench at all." And they kept telling me it didn't matter, it was all in good fun, you met nice guys, powerlifters are very friendly and encouraging, and so on.
Then five minutes one of them would ask me again about competing, or start telling me how much fun it would be.
Driving home, thinking of my wife, the confirmed you'll-never-get-me-doing-that non-runner, who just finished a marathon, and that the only thing that would keep me out was pride, that I'd never be looking to win, just to enjoy it, and that I'd love to link up with serious powerlifters, I realized they'd convinced me...
The Angels have the phone box.