PenteKing’s BodyBlog

It was my intention to post my thoughts and feelings on not receiving a response to my public apology (posted here a few days ago). But, even as I crafted the note, I started thinking that what I was doing was insane. I didn’t do anything all that bad. I made a mistake. No one died; no houses were demolished; the course of history wasn’t changed. I offered my apology and it was rebuffed. I can do no more. So, it’s time to wipe the slate clean and to move on.

Today was spinning day, and although Tracy is still on her honeymoon, the class was held, nonetheless. The replacement instructor is a nice enough woman and she is more than competent, but I don’t like her. Her exhortations seemed forced and robotic, as though she’s been programmed to say the very same things, in exactly the same tone of voice, at exactly the same points in the program. It’s not motivating, nor interesting. To me, it sucks all the joy out of the class. I find that I begin to put my head down and focus on the repetitive motion of pedaling. When Tracy leads the class, I imagine myself on a mountain road, under the clear blue skies of a Vermont morning in early autumn. I can feel the wind on my face and the song of the birds in my ears. With Terri, all I hear is the whirring of the fan in the background. It’s just not the same.

I know you’re enjoying your honeymoon, Tracy, and are not thinking about us at all, but I did want to let you know that I, at least, miss you. Hurry back.

Have you ever said something (with all the best intentions) and had it either come out completely wrong or have it mis-interpreted by the other person? Then, to make matters worse, you try to explain yourself, only to compound the original error? Then, to really bollix things up, you make a totally inappropriate comment, which under other circumstances, would have been ignored or forgiven? Has this ever happened to you?

It happened to me recently, and I’ve been racking my brain, trying to figure out a way to make things right - to put them back, as it were, the way it was. That’s impossible, I know, but I can’t help fixating on the idea. I keep repeating to myself, "If only; if only." If only it were that easy. But what is said cannot be unsaid, and I can only explain myself and my thinking to a certain point. If, after that, the misunderstanding persists, then perhaps the problem lies not with me, but with the other person.

Still, I want to give it one last shot. I’m sorry. Honestly. If I offended, I didn’t mean to do so and I apologize. Here. In public. In front of all these people. I’m sorry.

Chest and tri; back and bi. It’s all so allerative. I suppose that’s why the body parts were initially paired. I’m guessing it had nothing to do with major versus minor muscle groups or anything like that. I believe that people simply liked the way they sounded together.

Be that as it may, today was back and biceps day. Motivated by one of my friends here at bodybuilding.com, I am dedicating my back workouts to improving my pullup count. As a youngster, I could do ten pullups without breaking a sweat. Of course, I only weighed 125 pounds, so that may have had something to do with it. Now that I’m carting around 70 pounds more, doing pullups is harder. But, I’m going to get back to doing ten pullups, and then increase the amount steadily until I can do 25. Today, I did five pullups (in strict form, no less). Only 20 more to go.

Rosie is not only my inspiration, but also the person I hope to catch up with. Wish me luck.

Today was chest and triceps day at the gym. I started out with two warm-up sets (one with an empty bar; the second with only enough weight to get the blood flowing), and then loaded up the bar so that I had 80% of my maximum weight, and got into the routine. The first time I did this, I had absolutely no trouble finishing the sets. Easy peasy, Japanesy, I thought to myself. How can anyone think this is tough?

Today was a whole different ballgame. Same park - different rules; different results. By the third set, i was huffing and puffing like the Big Bad Wolf. On set four, I was seriously fatigued, and by set five, I was thoroughly wiped. Was it, I thought, because my energy level was not as high as the first time? No, that wasn’t it, because it being Saturday, I slept a little longer than usual, and by the time I hit the gym, I was raring to go. Was it, perhaps, not enough carbs to power me through the set? No, I had a bowl of oatmeal and two bananas before hitting the weights, so I thought I was good there. So, what was the difference? Nothing really. Except for it being a different day, everything was pretty much the same. My conclusion, therefore, is that the 5×5 is every bit as difficult as advertised, and this is just the manifestation of that claim. If so, I’ve got a lot of work ahead of me.

Today marks my first session with Rachelle in over a month. I had forgotten (fortunately) what a hard taskmaster she is. Marine drill instructors can’t hold a candle to this woman. She pushes, prods, cajoles, berates and motivates - all in the same session. She is at turns sympathetic, disdainful and encouraging. When you think you can’t do another rep, she’s there, whispering blandishments in your ear. When she senses that your mind is getting ready to tell the body to quit, she jumps in to put your mind right. She was so energetic and intense today that (for the first time since we’ve been together) she actually took off her hooded sweatshirt. God bless me, and then knock me down. That event should have been signaled by trumpets and banners. Rachelle NEVER takes her sweatshirt off in the gym - even when the temperature flirts with the century mark. I view it as a sign that she was working as hard as I was in order to get me to push the envelope.

I’m both dreading and looking forward to tomorrow morning. If I can barely walk, I’ll know I did good work today. That’s the good news. The bad news is that I won’t be able to walk down the street to my massage. Perhaps I can call Rachelle and have her carry me over. It’s the least she can do.

I write because I have to; not because I want to. I write because, to me, writing is liking breathing. I do it without thinking about it. I write because i have something to say, and I’m infinitely more articulate using a keyboard or typewriter than I am using my mouth. (There are times when the words come so swiftly to my mind that I suffer verbal strangulation. In school, when I was younger, they told my parents that my failure to articulate was due to a flaw in the part of my brain that controls speech.) Writing is comforting to me. It allows me to formulate my ideas in a relaxed, pressure-free environment. (I can always cross out words and phrases that aren’t quite right and put the proper ones in their place. Try doing that with your tongue!) I write because I view written communication as one of the highest forms of human expression (surpassed only by art and mathematics). Mainly I write for myself.

Writing allows me to fully think through the beliefs and opinions I’ve formed in the course of my lifetime. It’s the tool I use to question the validity of the things that I hear, of the new ideas that come my way, of the edicts that are passed by our political and religious leaders. I use writing the way Socrates used what later came to be known as the Socratic enquiry. Through my words, I poke and prod, searching for flaws and contradictions, for statements that don’t support known facts. I write because I must.

There are times, though, when I have written something that I wish could be retracted. Unlike speech, which can be denied because those utterances cannot be grasped and examined, written words are pebbles on the road of life. They are nuggets that can either be rock-solid support or treacherous footing upon which you may lose your balance and fall. Written words cannot be erased - they can only be explained or defended. They cannot be denied.

I write to enlighten. I write to educate. I write to amuse. But, primarily, I write to communicate. To everyone who reads what I write, I would like to say, "Thank you." Thank you for being an audience, and thank you for taking the time to listen to what I have to say.

I’m not sure whether I mentioned it or not, but my spinning instructor, Tracy, is getting married this coming Saturday. The venue she rented for the occasion is giving her a hard time about holding the ceremony outdoors. (We’ve had some hellacious fires over the weekend, and the air quality is dicey.) Despite this, Tracy is adamant about holding the ceremony outdoors.

"Who," she sensibly asked, "wants to get married in a conference room?" Interesting thought when you come right down to it. She’s of the opinion that by Saturday, the fires will have been contained, and the particulate matter in the air will have either settled to earth or been blown out to sea. She has a point. It is Wednesday, October 24, as I write this, and already, the air is cleaner than its been since last Friday (before the fires began). Tracy is threatening to postpone the marriage if the manager refuses to allow the outdoor ceremony to commence as planned. (Personally, I think there’s too many moving parts to stop the wedding now, but Tracy is one stubborn lady, so who knows.)

What does this have to do with me? Not that this is about me, of course <wink, wink, nudge, nudge> but it means no spinning class until November 7th. I can’t suspend my cardio activities for that long, so my options are either to find a temporary spinning class that I can join for two weeks, or find another cardio activity that I like as much as spinning, and naturally, there isn’t one. Running hurts my knees, treadmills are boring, boxing classes hurt too much (I HATE being punched in the nose), and I can’t find anyone who still teaches Tao Bo (is that how you spell it?). <Sigh>

I guess it’s back to jumping rope.

Tracy, I wish you and your husband a long, happy and fruitful life together. Marriage is the single hardest thing two people can do together. The road of life is long and at times hard, but it’s made infinitely better with a companion by your side.

One of the guys I see in the gym every now and again is one of those guys who MUST offer advice to whomever is within earshot. Never mind that his physique looks like it was purchased wholesale from Walmart. That doesn’t deter him at all. In his mind, his physique is the greatest thing to hit the planet since Frank Zane retired. And he knows something about EVERYTHING.

Well, I’m doing my new back routine today (low reps, heavy weights, with exercises split between morning and afternoon sessions) and this guy comes over to tell me that what I’m doing won’t work. He claims that my body type needs lower weights, with higher reps. Ectomorphs, he says, don’t (actually, I think he said can’t) build muscle the way mesomorphs can, and therefore, I should quit while I was ahead. His message, boiled down to its essence, was "Don’t try something that will de-motivate you."

The new routine is working out very well, thank you very much. I’ve already increased my weight and reps, and can see and feel the difference in my body. I told Buttinsky Guy to go take a flying f**k at a rolling doughnut (more nicely than that, of course) and went back to my routine.

The episode meant nothing, and yet, it’s been bugging me all day, and so I had to vent my spleen among a group of folks who understand my frustration. Where do guys like this come from, and why are they always attracted to me? I mean, am I magnet for losers? Just wondering. Thanks for lending an ear.

I’m still trying to figure out my body rhythms. Some days, I have to force myself to eat the proper amount of food. Getting more than 1,200 calories inside me is a Sisyphean task. Just the sight of food is enough to turn my stomach. On other days, though, I’m ravenous to the point of incoherency. I will eat any- and everything in my sight, and then look around for more. This has been happening - off and on - for the past six weeks, and I can discern no readily identifiable pattern. What’s even more weird and strange, is that on the days when I’m ravenously hungry and take in 2,500 - 3,000 calories, my weight goes down the following day. Low calorie days are an occasion for my body to retain the weight.

I know the physiology behind the weight loss/gain, so am not too concerned about that. I would like, however, to figure out the hunger/no hunger syndrome thing I’ve got going on. Has anyone else experienced this, and if so, do you have an opinion or facts you’d like to share with a puzzled soul?

Thanks in advance.

Granted they were playing Miami (0-6), but you have to be impressed nonetheless. The team is a freaking machine. I honestly don’t see another team in the league with their desire, focus and dedication. Accusing Bellichek of cheating, and impuning the genuineness of their three Super Bowl victories has only motivated them even more than they were before. These guys have something to prove - to themselves, and to the rest of the world. They are scary good. They are definitely entertaining. They may not go 16 - 0, but who cares? Just watching them execute flawless football week after week is reward enough for me. Excellence, no matter what form it takes, is to be applauded and admired.

Way to go, Pats. No matter what others may say about you, I remain a fan. (And not a fair-weather one. I attended games when they were 2 - 14, so have seen more than my share of the bad times.)