PenteKing’s BodyBlog

I’m tired. Not your average, run-of-the-mill tired, either. I mean, deep-down, bone tired. The kind of tired that makes you read the same sentence six time because your brain refuses to process the words. The type of tired that makes you hit the snooze alarm on the clock six times before you succeed in dragging your sorry ass out of bed. The worst part of this is that I have no idea why.

It’s true that I’ve been following the Rock-Hard Challenge, and that the routine is stressing my body more than normal, but I’m eating right and getting plenty of sleep. So, I don’t figure it. What is wrong? I’ve had my doctor check me out and she tells me that my vitals are good and that I’m not suffering from mono or something stupid like that. Seriously, I feel like I could sleep for a week. If I wasn’t in the middle of the Challenge, I’d take a solid week off, but I don’t feel as though I can do that, and stay true to the Challenge. (Stupid, isn’t it, considering that I’m not even officially enrolled?) Even now, typing this, my head feels too heavy for my neck to hold up and my eyes are grainy and red-rimmed. I’ve bags under my eyes.

Has anyone else experienced this phenomenon? If so, suggestions and advice are not only welcomed, but are also encouraged.

Having to work for a living sure does take a huge chunk out of your day. This is especially true if you’re even halfway dedicated to your job. You get tagged to do this and that and then the other, and before you know it, the day is gone, you haven’t crossed off one thing on your ‘To-Do’ list, and there are still 137 messages sitting in your email inbox. And then, so you don’t have to start tomorrow behind the eight ball, you plow through your emails only to discover that fully one-third of them are from people who insist on copying you on topics of absolutely no interest to you, but you have them anyway because the sender thought "you might be interested in this."

And then, after the work day is done, you get caught in a horrific traffic jam that puts you at least one hour behind schedule (who are all these people, and where in God’s name are they headed?). So, you get home, change out of your work clothes, throw on your gym stuff and traipse off to the gym, cursing yourself the whole time for failing to remember to take your workout gear in the first place. Then, of course, the gym is crowded beyond all capacity, and you have to wait around to use the equipment you need, and wouldn’t you know it? You’re waiting behind Mr. Slow Rep - the guy who takes a full hour to raise and lower the weight through ONE REP! On and on and on it goes. By the time you’ve finished your workout, the clock is reading nine p.m. and your rumbling stomach alerts you to the fact that you still have to cook dinner. You don’t really feel like going to all that trouble, but the thought of eating fast food makes your throat close up, so you suck it up like a good bodybuilder should and you drag your sorry ass into the kitchen where you cut up veggies and chicken and throw it into the wok for a quick stir-fry. Eleven o’clock rolls around, and as you prowl through your apartment, turning off the lights, the pathetic look on your dog’s face tells you that there is still one more thing you MUST do before turning in for the night.

I ask you - have you ever picked up dog shit at eleven o’clock at night and wondered - I mean, really wondered - who was the owner and who was pet?

Ladies and gentlemen (and children of all ages) - I am here today to tell you that in the contest between car and bicycle, the car is the victor. How do I know this? Because my new Fuji (less than two months old) is - even as we speak - a twisted hunk of useless metal, while the opponent in this sparring match - a Toyota Tacoma - is probably out prowling the roads, looking for other bicycles to mangle into submission.

How this came about was one part road rage, one part misjudgement, and two parts male testoserone. When these combustible ingredients are mixed together, mayhem ensues. Allow me ot explain.

Here in California, bicycles are considered vehicles no different from any other on the road. This means - among other things - that we must obey the rules of the road (stopping at STOP signs, yielding to pedestrians, etc.). It also means that we have the same right to the road that everyone else does. Not that drivers of SUVs and Ford pick-up trucks agree with this philosophy. I know I’m generalizing like crazy, but it appears to me as though people lose three or four IQ points when they strap themselves behind the wheel of these behemoths.

During my ride today, said Tacoma grew annoyed at having to share the road with some as miniscule as myself, and so, rather than practicing common driving courtesy, the driver decided to intimidate me by driving as close as possible to my rear wheel and then laying on the horn. Naturally - not expecting this discordant sound immediately behind me - I jumped out of my skin, swerved, and went tumbling when my front wheel hit the adjacent curb. I wasn’t hurt, but I was pissed. The Tacoma was stopped at the light a few dozen yards ahead of me, and seeing him sitting there, unmindful of whether he had maimed me or worse, I lost my head. I ran up to him, and pounded on the passenger side door. His companion - thinking I was trying to open the door to molest her precious body - screamed bloody murder. The driver threw the truck into Park and came flying out of the truck. Without further ado, we ended up tussling on the ground. Luckily, we were soon separated by lookers-on. Words ensued, accusations were hurled, and invective filled the air. Eventually, however, calm was restored and the Tacoma continued on to its final destination. I returned to my bike to discover that the crash I had suffered had broken the front fork. Being several miles away from home, I had no choice but to call in a few favors from friends who came to my rescue. My bike mechanic tells me that not only is the fork broken, but the frame is bent. His suggestion is to scrap the bike completely, file an insurance claim and buy a new one.

I can’t stand it. All I’m trying to do is stay active and get in halfway decent shape. Is that too much to ask? Why do motorists feel as though they own the road? I’m doing my part to keep the planet green. So why am I persecuted? Why? I know I’m whining, but I just lost my bike and I have to buy another. The whole episode is upsetting to me.

Well, it’s been one month since beginning the three-month Rock-Hard Challenge. How have I done? Largely okay. I have cheated here and there (I like wine), but overall, have been sticking to the principles pretty well. I’ve become very much stronger and my endurance has increased noticeably. Has my body changed? I think it has, but I’m not the best judge of such things. I’m notoriously hard on myself, and am never satisfied with how I look. I look at the progress pictures I’ve taken, but that’s not much better. All I see are the flaws. I see none of the progress. When I post new progress pics, I’m going to reach out to some of you on this site to give me an honest assessment. I can’t make progress unless I get some honest critical feedback (and I don’t mean critical in a negative way). So, I hope that my friends in the community will tell me the pros and cons and the things I have to focus on in order to achieve my goals.

As part of the Challenge, I’ve been taking Animal Cuts. Frankly, I haven’t seen any changes as a result of using this product, except to say that I seem to pee more than I did before starting on the cycle. If anyone else has experience with Animal Cuts, I invite you to write me and let me know of your progress (or lack thereof). I promise to write back. And I know I’m supposed to post things like this in the forum, but I’m not a forum guy. The threads make me nervous. (I had a bad thread experience as a child.)

First off, allow me to apologize - up front - to those of you who may find this blog’s content offensive.

I’ve been glued to the Olympics because I absolutely love watching sports competition at the highest levels. I’ve been stunned and dazzled by the athleticism, determination and sheer power and will of the Olympic competitors. Win, lose or draw, you have to admire their tenacity and their love of the sport.

What bothers me is the unrelenting focus on which country has won the most gold medals. My goodness, NBC (and other news outlets) have been busy beating their breasts in sorrow at the United States having garned less gold medals than China. The way they’re going on about it, you’d think that it portended the fall of Western civilization as we know it. GET OVER YOURSELVES!!! It’s a sporting competition, for God’s sake. All it means is that, for this Olympics, at this point in time, some of "their" athletes were better than "our" athletes. All it means is that they trained harder, or had more natural talent, or that the stars favored their efforts at the moment of victory.

What it doesn’t mean is that we, as Americans, are lesser people than the Chinese. It doesn’t mean that our way of live is worse than theirs. It doesn’t mean that the Chinese have more moral fiber than we do. We are ALL human beings - each of us with our fears, foibles, feelings and imperfections. That is the way of the world. Why can’t we just sit back for two weeks and watch the world’sbest compete against one another without the prognosticators tying the fate of the world to the outcome. When lives are on the line, then I might think that these competitions mean more than they do. Until then, I’m going to marvel at the physical ability on display.

Aside from one or two minor cheats, I’ve been following the Rock-Hard Challenge routine pretty consistently. Today marks the end of the third week (weightlifting-wise. I still have cardio to do.) In monitoring my vital signs, I find that I feel stronger, but that I need more hours of sleep. It’s harder following the diet than I thought it would be because, as I’ve said before, it’s hard for me to eat as many calories on the high-content days that is recommended. I’m trying like hell, but it’s hard. I find that chugging protein shakes helps, but there are days when I feel like one of the French geese being fattened up for the ultimate foie gras feast.

I’ll post progress pictures in the next ten days or so. (I promise.) You have no idea how hard it is for me to do that, because every time I see my body in photos, I have to find a commode to throw up in. I despair that I will NEVER be able to achieve the body of my dreams. I’m always tempted to destroy the photos, or to PhotoShop them. But I do neither, because to do either would be to lie to myself, and that is something that I refuse to do. The body of my desire is forged in the fire of my will. I will not waver. I will take no shortcuts and accept no excuses.

As some of you may know, when I work out, I listen to disco music. (There are exceptions, but by and large, I’m consistent.) Today, though, I decided I wanted to listen to something different, and so I grabbed a handful of new music, downloaded it to the iPod and took off for the gym. I noticed that I had somehow grabbed a bunch of 80’s music (Sunglasses at Night; Blinded Me with Science; etc.) I was enjoying the songs, when all of a sudden, the Simply Red song, "Money’s Too Tight (to Mention)" came through the earphones.

Listening to the lyrics, I was struck by how relevant they sounded. For those of you unfamiliar with the song, let me give you an example.

"Money’s too tight to mention. I can’t get an unemployment extension. I went to the bank to see what they could do; they said, ‘Son, sounds like bad luck’s got a hold on you.’ I went to my father to see what he could do. He said, ‘Son, I’d like to help you, but I’m unable to. Money’s too tight to mention. I can’t even qualify for my pension.’

Seriously; doesn’t this sound as though it could have been written yesterday? And yet, this song came out at the height of the Reagan era. So, let me ask you. What, exactly, has changed over the last twenty years? Things that make you go, "Hmmm".

I’m physically tired. I attribute it to staying up too late at night (damn those Olympic competitions) and getting up too early (damn that cardio). Yesterday, driving home from the golf course, I nearly fell asleep behind the wheel (!). I immediately pulled over, found a relatively secluded spot, and took a twenty-minute power nap. Had I not taken that precaution, Lord only knows what might have happened. So, I am making a vow. No more staying up until all hours of the morning. I will either watch the event via the ‘Net, or read about it in the morning paper. I need my rest - no ifs, ands or buts.

Speaking of the Olympics, how many of you caught the women’s powerlifting competition? OMG, my mouth was hanging open in surprise more times than it was not. The women themselves weighed only 48 KG (about 105 pounds) and were easily lifting in excess of 116 KG (about 257 pounds). I was dazzled and impressed, and came away wishing I could do half as well as they. Kudos to each and every competitor. I cannot begin to imagine the countless hours each Olympian must have devoted to his craft in order to achieve the level of fitness and competition that is on display on the world’s stage. They are truly the super-human among us.

I heard a piece on NPR this morning that literally boggled my mind. The gist of the piece was that John McCain’s handlers had finally succeeded in reining their man in. They have stopped his long and impromptu sessions with the press corps. Now, all he does is give his packaged speech and leaves the follow-up questions to his staff. The first thing that popped into my mind when I heard this was, "Handlers? This guy needs handlers? What is he - a trained monkey?" I think it’s sad that we have come to a point in this country where we are afraid to hear what our next possible President has to say. Don’t filter it - give me the unvarnished truth. I’d rather have that then a tissue of lies and half-explanations.

I received news today that a friend of a friend is in dire straits because her insurance company dropped her policy. The reason? They discovered that, years ago, she had had surgery to remove a mole from her upper back. Now that she’s been diagnosed with cancer, the insurance company is claiming that the mole was a precusor to the cancer, and because Leslie did not tell them about it, they claim she violated the agreement she had with them. No. We don’t need universal health care in this country. The insurance companies are looking out for us. Have you ever wondered why our Congressmen don’t complain about their health care coverage? It’s because they have the best plan in the world. If they can have it, then why can’t I?

Football season is right around the corner, and my local team is wailing and gnashing its teeth because it will "only" make a profit of several hundred million dollars. That, they claim, is not enough to sustain the franchise. They want the taxpayers to kick in a bale of money to help them build a new stadium with luxury boxes that I, as a taxpayer, will not be able to afford. What a deal. I’m running right out and marking that ballot measure a resounding "YES"! Where else in the world can you get a deal like that? Paying for something that you’ll never be able to use. God, I love the NFL.

I went to see "The Dark Knight" on iMax the other day. WOW! That’s all I can say. Words fail me. I thought the first Batman film with Christian Bale was good. This one knocked my socks off. Christopher Nolan (director and screenwriter) managed to make a film good enough to suspend my disbelief through the entire screening. Not once did I say, "No way." As the world’s biggest skeptic, that is high praise coming from me. If you haven’t seen the film yet, go. You will NOT be disappointed.

The music in my iPod is getting stale. My workout music is an eclectic mix of hard rock, disco and electronica. However, I’ve listened to every song in the rotation at least ten times, and I need something different. If anyone has suggestions for good workout music, send it my way. The iTunes Store is considering filing for bankruptcy since I’ve stopped buying music from them. I want to do my part to keep America’s economic engine chugging along.

I love this community. Perhaps love is too strong a word, but logging onto this site nearly every day - reading the trials, tribulations and triumphs of my fellow bodybuilders - makes me feel good inside. I like knowing that there are folks like me out there in the world who eat clean, who take care of their bodies, and who understand the motivation that makes one get up at four in the morning to put on a hoodie sweatshirt and run 10K on a treadmill in an overheated gym before heading out to work. This is a fellowship and no matter what our differences may be, we are all brothers and sisters in iron. Keep lifting, fellow bodybuilders. The road is long, with many a winding turn, but it will lead us to the promised land.

It’s true. I am never satisfied; especially with the way my body looks. Have I made progress since I’ve started? Yes! Am I happy with the progress I’ve made? No; absolutely not.

I recently took new body shots for the Rock-Hard Challenge. I posted one of them, but am reluctant to post the rest because, in my eyes, I look terrible. I am still carrying too much weight around my middle, and my arms, legs, chest and back could use about 10 more pounds of quality muscle.

I’m having one of those days when I’m discouraged. I watch what I eat - I measure portions - I do cardio - all to no avail. I would kill to have abs like Nick or KendaFriend. But, nothing. Nada. Zip. What, I wonder, do I have to do to see a little progress? Help me, Lord; help me.