BahamaMan’s BodyBlog

            It’s definitely not my style to pimp training techniques.  Too many gurus out there already.  But, this is big, and it can help you get big, and it’s something that most folks aren’t doing.

“He who wrestles with us strengthens our nerves and sharpens or skill.  Our antagonist is our helper.”

                      
                          — Edmund Burke

            When’s the last time you felt the adrenaline rush of competition?  Had to take a nervous pee before you stepped on the field?  Stared into the eyes of guys that wanted your championship ring?  Heard people cheering for you?

            Or when’s the last time you just competed against yourself?  Challenged yourself to jump higher or to be faster or stronger than you’ve ever been?

            Unfortunately, for most 35 and olders those feelings, those personal challenges are distant memories.  Competition for “grown-ups” is mostly coming to bat with runners on the corners in a church-league slow-pitch softball game, striving to become employee-of-the-month, and/or trying to break your record time in the daily commute.

            No wonder you feel old!

            Let me relate a couple of stories:

            I recently mentioned to the grandpa of one of my daughter’s friends that I had started doing timed sprints (we were at a track meet).  He related the following story.  “When I was about your age I remember trying a 100-yard dash with one of my sons.  See, I used to be a sprinter in school.  Anyway, I got about halfway into it and fell.  Rolled head over heels.  Felt about this small in front of my boy (holds up thumb and forefinger about an inch apart).  There’s a timing required in running that you lose that if you don’t do it.”

            No shit Sherlock.  The same thing happens to tires that you don’t use.  It’s called dry rot.

            I also told a group of 40 and 50 something buds at work that I’d started sprinting.  They looked at me like I was crazy.  “You call a 440 a sprint?  I don’t even know if I could make it once around the track.”

            Gazing into my crystal ball I see my work pals growing old before there time.  What am I talking about, they’re already there.

            Finally, some of my wife’s friend’s husbands crack nervous jokes at dinner parties about how I get on stage in my underwear. 

            Meanwhile, said husband’s wives are grabbing my knee under the table. (Okay, metaphorically grabbing my knee.)

            Look, although it seems that schools these days are doing their best to convince our kids that physical competition is bad (as in “Hey Johnny, whadya do in PE today? Not much, Dad, just some more of that cup-stacking game”), we 30, 40, and 50-somethings KNOW that competition is good.  And at 30, 40, and 50-something physical competition is more than good; it’s essential.  It’s essential because competition keeps you mentally and physically strong.  Competition helps you keep your edge.  Competition makes you feel alive.

            I highly recommend getting as good as you can get at something that is physically challenging and competing, no matter how old you are.

            ‘Cause if you ain’t competing, you’re a spectator.  And watching from the sidelines, pudgy and/or bent, contending that you coulda been a contender, is no way to spend the rest of your life. 

            I remember talking to some single guys before I got married.  I remember them saying things like, “I just can’t imagine waking up next to the same person for 50 years.” 

As a 25-year old, my response was something like, “I can’t imagine waking up next to a 75 year old woman either, but right now future wifey  is HOT and I’m VERY into the idea of waking up next to her.” 

            Fast forward about six years from wedding day and I’m holding our little girl in my hands.  Before that moment, friends warned wifey and me about the terrible twos, puberty, boyfriends, etc.  But AT THAT MOMENT all I remember thinking about was how beautiful and perfect she was.

            My point in relating these stories is two-fold with respect to the quest of many people to get fit and healthy.   

            First, when analyzed with a calculator, who in their right mind would attempt to get and stay fit (or for that matter, get and stay married or become a parent)!  For instance, imagine having the following conversation with yourself before your first workout, “Let’s see, I’m 30 now and I want to stay in really good shape until I’m at least 70.  In order to do that, I’ll need to workout three times a week.  Three workouts times 52 weeks a year for the next 40 years: (click, click, click) 6, 240 workouts.”  Or, “Okay, because eggs and breakfast are really good for me, I’m going to have 3 eggs for breakfast everyday for the next 40 years.  Three eggs times 365 times 40:  (click, click, click) 43,800 eggs.”  Real buzz kill, right?

            Second, what if someone with a crystal ball was able to tell you that during the next 40 years you will have to deal with the following:  blown knee, two pregnancies, bad back, teenage kid with issues, death of several loved ones, arthritis, and elderly parents.  Why try to stay fit and healthy?  There’s clearly going to be WAY TOO MUCH OTHER STUFF GOING ON to get in 3 workouts and 21 eggs a week, right?!

            But just like with marriage and parenting, if you don’t take getting and then staying fit one day at a time, you may never start.  You know what they say about journeys of 1000 miles. 

            And so who cares if at 35, you blow out your knee right after your second pregnancy and gain 40 pounds.  Do you know how sweet it’s going to feel to work that 40 and then some off!  And how cool is it going to be at 45, to be able to play some one-on-one with your teenager while the two of you work thru his issues.  And when your best friend dies of a heart attack at 55 because he was overweight and smoked; you aren’t, you don’t, YOU WIN!

            So, take the fitness journey one day at a time.  Before you know it you’ll be that 75 year old Enjoy all the benefits and perks of looking and feeling great while those around you are sinking deeper and deeper into the couch…or worse.

With apologies to Jeff Foxworthy I offer the following observations on a certain segment of the bodybuilding community:

            If you wear Under Armor to church…you might be a musclehead.

            If all your t-shirts are sleeveless…you might be a musclehead.

            If you own a pair of clown pants…you might be a musclehead.

            If you have a collection of spaghetti strap t-shirts with gym logos…you might be a musclehead.

            If your wife/girlfriend’s chest size is a higher number than her IQ…you might be a musclehead.

            If your wife/girlfriend wears mostly tube-tops…you might be a musclehead (or a biker).

            If you remember your training partner’s birthday, but forget your wife/girlfriend’s…you might be a musclehead.

            If you’ve ever used the term “the iron” to refer to weights (as in, “the iron never lets me down”)…you might be a musclehead.

            If you regularly refer to your arms as “the guns”…you might be a musclehead.

            If you know the exact girth of your forearms and neck …you might be a musclehead.

            If you care about how big your arms look when folded (think Uncle Rico)…you might be a musclehead.

            If your favorite pose is the crab most muscular…you might be a musclehead.

            If you spend more time in the gym than with your wife/girlfriend/kids…you might be a musclehead.

            If you spend more time at work thinking about working out than working…you might be a musclehead.

            If your motto is “Go big or go home!”…you might be a musclehead.

            If you know your one rep maximum for concentration curl…you might be a musclehead.

            If you spend more on supplements in a month than you do on rent/mortgage…you might be a musclehead.

            If you eat more food in a week than a family of four…you might be a musclehead.

            If you care about who wins Mr. Olympia…you might be a musclehead.

            If you have a lifetime subscription to Muscle and Fitness and/or Flex and/or Muscular Development and/or Ironman…you might be a musclehead.

            If you regularly quote lines from Pumping Iron (as in “you’re just a baby, Lou”)…you might be a musclehead.

            And, if you have anything related to Arnold tattooed on your body…you might be a musclehead.

            Now, I kid because I care.  And there are more than a couple of these “definitions” that apply to me.  But I suggest that if you answer “yes” to ten or more of these, you might want to seriously consider joining Muscleheads Anonymous.

            Good luck in rehab.

          This is a documentary that everyone who has ever entered a gym should see.  Seriously.  The full title is “Bigger, Faster, Stronger: The side effects of being American”.  It is written and directed by Christopher Bell and was released in 2008.  Before you read any further, go out and rent/buy this movie. 
          If you are still reading, I offer the following review:  In a nutshell, the movie is a fascinating look at the world of performance enhancing drugs in sports, with an emphasis on steroids.  Chris Bell is just a regular, Michael Mooreish guy who went all over North America asking a lot of people, including many well-known and/or influential people, tough questions like; what is the proof that steroids are harmful, why is it wrong for athletes to take performance enhancing drugs, what is the future of sport as we know it, did you (famous athlete) take performance enhancers and/or why did you, do the ends justify the means when it comes to steroid use?  What’s cool is that Bell isn’t coming from a pro-drugs or con-drugs position.  Rather, he just asked a lot of good, smart questions.  The answers he got and the contradictions and hypocrisies that he exposes could blow your mind.
          The movie isn’t just about performance enhancing drugs and what those drugs have done to sport (including bodybuilding), though.  The movie also grapples with the bigger issue(s) of the obsession in America with getting Bigger, Faster, and Stronger.  Why do average Joe’s take steroids, for example, and/or spend small fortunes on supplements.  Bell’s own story and the story of his brothers’ steroid use provide poignant and intimate case studies.  And very significantly, very importantly, the movie documents the potential scam that supplements and their promotions can be.
          Be forewarned Arnold-worshipers (and I sort of include myself in that clan), Conan ends up looking pretty hypocritical in this movie.  For instance, here’s a guy who used steroids to get his fame and fortune, hosts a bodybuilding event populated by a bunch of steroid users and, at the same time, was the chairman of the President’s Council on Physical Fitness and Sports.  So are steroids bad or not, Terminator?  And there are excerpts from a Maria Shriver interview with a dying Lyle Alzado where Shriver asks “tough” questions about steroid use.  Hello, Mrs. Schwarzenegger.  You’re married to one of those guys.
          And in a scene that was surreal, the movie captures Gold’s Gym (Venice Beach) staff taking down pictures (and a mural) of Arnold in the gym at the request of Arnold’s people.  Apparently, Arnold doesn’t want folks visiting the Mecca to be reminded of his steroid-using days.  
          Watch this movie, people!
          Watch it and be confused.
          Watch it and be educated.
          Watch it and be embarrassed.
          Watch it and be angered.
          Watch it and be saddened.
          Watch it and be enlightened.
          Watch it and possibly change your approach to bodybuilding.

            You’ve seen American Idol, right?  Where the wannabe is absolutely horrible, the judges tell him that he’s horrible, but the wannabe refuses to believe he that he stinks on toast?  Often the exchanges between the judges and the wannabes are funny/tense/disturbing.  There are often tears involved and F-bombs.

            I find these TV moments fascinating.  I watch mesmerized.  Can these people really not know how bad they are?  I wonder what kind of world they live in?  I conclude that they actually have mental problems and need psychiatric help.

            Fast forward (sort of) to the world of fitness. Now unlike talent, where you’ve kind of either got it or you don’t, a lean, muscular, healthy body is attainable by almost anyone who desires it.  Simply follow the rules and it will happen.
            Yet, there are so many wannabes out there that seem to be living in their own worlds.  Sort of like those American Idol contestants.  I’m fascinated by these fitness wannabes, too.  From observation and personal experience exchanges with them often go something like this:

            Wannabe:  “Waa, waa.  Boo-hoo.  Poor me.  I’ll never look like you.”

            Fit Guy:  (Wanting to be helpful.)  “Hey man, just wondering if you know the muscle building/fat losing rules?  Cause if you don’t I’d be happy to talk with you about them.”

            Wannabe:  “Waa, waa.  Yeah, I’ve read about the rules; eat clean, get plenty of rest, workout regularly and do mostly multi-joint exercises.  Boo-hoo.”  (Sniffle, sniffle.)

            Fit Guy:  “Here’s a Kleenex.  So, that’s great that you’ve read about the rules.  Are you following them?”

            Wannabe:  “No.” (Offers no further explanation.  Sniffs up a long string of snot that had been dripping out of his nose.)

            Fit Guy:  (No longer feeling sorry for the wannabe.) “Well dude, my advice…”

            Wannabe:  (Catches his breath.  Waits expectantly for Fit Guy to commiserate and/or give him some useful tips that he may or may not use depending on how tough the love is.)

            Fit Guy:  “My advice is that you save the drama fo’ yo’ mama.” 

            Wannabe:  “Huh?!”

            Fit Guy: “I’m so tired of people not following the rules and then crying about why they’re not making progress.  Or worse yet, getting good advice and not following it.”

            Wannabe:  “But, but, you don’t understand.” (Starts to tear up again.)

            Fit Guy:  (Getting kind of pissed.)  “No, you don’t understand.  I’m not special.  I just follow the rules.  So suck it up, do the same thing, and stop feeling sorry for yourself!” 

            Wannabe:  (Tears streaming down his cheeks.)  “But, I’ve just got so much stuff going on in my life right now.”

            Fit Guy:  “Like I don’t have “so much stuff going on in my life right now”.  Like all the fit guys and gals around here don’t have “so much going on in their lives right now”.

            Wannabe:  (Snaps.  Transitions from crying to foaming at the mouth)  “Yeah, well f*ck you.  You’re so high and mighty with your “follow the f*cking rules”.  Maybe I don’t want to follow the rules.  Maybe the aliens that put me on this planet wired me differently.  Maybe I can get lean and muscular eating ice cream and f*cking Doritos, getting two hours of sleep a night, and doing just cable crossovers and side lateral raises.  What do you think about that “Mister just follow the f*cking rules”? 

            Fit Guy:  (Smiles at the thought of wannabe literally “f*cking Doritios”.  Calls for security.  Shakes his head.)  Dude, I think you need to seriously consider psychiatric help.

            And so it goes.  The exchange likely sounds familiar if you’ve spent much time in a gym.  The question is; are you fit guy or fit guy wannabe?