drb_iac
Active member
When I was a young man, I did what young men do. I tore into the gym, greeted the iron with a nod and a tug and proceeded to kick it, beat it, bite it and heave it across the floor. It was a fierce encounter, a gory scene, a rowdy confrontation, a bloody mess.
I worked hard, the iron persisted and our relationship improved. Time has passed and I have changed YET the weights have remained the same. There they sit completely un aged! My approach is notably different. I am more considerate and not given to tearing... unless we're talking about ligaments, tendons and muscles.
What exactly is on my mind when I go to the gym and train; what are the driving forces, my purposes, what do I want to achieve, what do I expect, what will I accept?
I hate it when I get all intellectual, rational and analytical. Enter gym, lift weights, feel good, go home and tell wifey I love her,pet pooch. What more is there to say?
Let me guess: Don't go to the gym, don't lift weights, feel crappy, drink beer, end of story.
Why do we make such a big production of it all? Everyday logs, rocks and axles became barbells and dumbbells and kettlebells, which became 20,000 square feet of machines for every muscle and bone and urge in the body.
Guess that's why we're blessed with intelligence, that we might question and wonder, develop and resolve. Does that mean I have to answer the dopey questions I presented earlier? Yes! I'll give it my best shot. Let's compare notes.
What's on my mind when I go to the gym?
First and foremost, I review my physical and mental capacities to ascertain my ability to train well or at all on the particular day. That I shall train is not a given, as it was only a few years ago. If I don't pass muster, I think tomorrow. Tomorrow always comes, so far.
It's very important I'm sufficiently fueled, I have my gear (wraps, grips, water, GPS, walking cane...just in case), I'm appropriately attired (fav muscle T), I have a notion of my workouts (willing muscle groups, agreeable exercises) and a psyche (psychological prep) is in the works.
What are my driving forces, my purposes?
Beyond huge and ripped, and powerful and menacing, I want to complete the workout without disaster and get home in one piece. Just kidding... I pass on menacing.
The workouts are all about the performance of the right movements, their blend and flow, their groove and finesse, crisp, calculated exertion, total involvement with maximum training appreciation. Think taste and flavor to a gourmet chef, consistency, aroma, texture and appeal of presentation of an exotic dish.
You're drooling.
What do I want to achieve?
Oh, that I might add to this ordinary life.
More directly, I want immortality, wealth, power and a puppy. Just the puppy would probably do fine.
What do I expect?
Another workout, a decent pump, solace of the body, mind and soul, temporary evasion of guilt, a slice of fulfillment, a scoop of satisfaction, a dash of exhilaration, a nod of knowing from another deranged musclehead across the gym floor, two days of fatigue and soreness, mild nausea, loss of appetite, obsessive overtraining and the barest maintenance of muscle and might topped off with six miles of maddening traffic on the way home.
What will I accept?
Whatever I can get, 18 sets of selectively random movements with a minimum of 80-percent focus and exertion, survival with a grin, exiting the gym on my own two feet, locating my truck in the parking lot, finding my way home amid the overflowing river of bumpers, hoods and trunks.
Beep, beep.
Let the good times roll...
I worked hard, the iron persisted and our relationship improved. Time has passed and I have changed YET the weights have remained the same. There they sit completely un aged! My approach is notably different. I am more considerate and not given to tearing... unless we're talking about ligaments, tendons and muscles.
What exactly is on my mind when I go to the gym and train; what are the driving forces, my purposes, what do I want to achieve, what do I expect, what will I accept?
I hate it when I get all intellectual, rational and analytical. Enter gym, lift weights, feel good, go home and tell wifey I love her,pet pooch. What more is there to say?
Let me guess: Don't go to the gym, don't lift weights, feel crappy, drink beer, end of story.
Why do we make such a big production of it all? Everyday logs, rocks and axles became barbells and dumbbells and kettlebells, which became 20,000 square feet of machines for every muscle and bone and urge in the body.
Guess that's why we're blessed with intelligence, that we might question and wonder, develop and resolve. Does that mean I have to answer the dopey questions I presented earlier? Yes! I'll give it my best shot. Let's compare notes.
What's on my mind when I go to the gym?
First and foremost, I review my physical and mental capacities to ascertain my ability to train well or at all on the particular day. That I shall train is not a given, as it was only a few years ago. If I don't pass muster, I think tomorrow. Tomorrow always comes, so far.
It's very important I'm sufficiently fueled, I have my gear (wraps, grips, water, GPS, walking cane...just in case), I'm appropriately attired (fav muscle T), I have a notion of my workouts (willing muscle groups, agreeable exercises) and a psyche (psychological prep) is in the works.
What are my driving forces, my purposes?
Beyond huge and ripped, and powerful and menacing, I want to complete the workout without disaster and get home in one piece. Just kidding... I pass on menacing.
The workouts are all about the performance of the right movements, their blend and flow, their groove and finesse, crisp, calculated exertion, total involvement with maximum training appreciation. Think taste and flavor to a gourmet chef, consistency, aroma, texture and appeal of presentation of an exotic dish.
You're drooling.
What do I want to achieve?
Oh, that I might add to this ordinary life.
More directly, I want immortality, wealth, power and a puppy. Just the puppy would probably do fine.
What do I expect?
Another workout, a decent pump, solace of the body, mind and soul, temporary evasion of guilt, a slice of fulfillment, a scoop of satisfaction, a dash of exhilaration, a nod of knowing from another deranged musclehead across the gym floor, two days of fatigue and soreness, mild nausea, loss of appetite, obsessive overtraining and the barest maintenance of muscle and might topped off with six miles of maddening traffic on the way home.
What will I accept?
Whatever I can get, 18 sets of selectively random movements with a minimum of 80-percent focus and exertion, survival with a grin, exiting the gym on my own two feet, locating my truck in the parking lot, finding my way home amid the overflowing river of bumpers, hoods and trunks.
Beep, beep.
Let the good times roll...
