PenteKing’s BodyBlog

I’ve been a fan of Labrada products for quite some time now. (Lee, if you’re reading this, I can be had for a nominal fee <wink>). I’ve mainly used his Lean Body protein packets. I find them to be extraordinarily convenient, and better yet, they taste great. It doesn’t matter whether you get chocolate, vanilla or strawberry. Not one flavor (and I’ve tried them all, including the chocolate peanut butter) leaves that weird, chalky taste in your mouth that so many other protein powders do. (I’m not mentioning any names, but you all know who I’m talking about.)

At any rate, I forgot my shaker and packet at home this morning. (It was one of those days. If you don’t believe me, ask Wall Street.) My gym, like any good iron palace, carries a slew of protein drinks to slake the thirst of its iron-throwing denizens. Seeing that they stocked Labrada Lean Body RTD, I decided to give it a try. All I can say is "WOW!" It was hard for me to believe that something that tasted so good could be so good for me. Seriously. I selected the banana flavor, and was simply blown away. It was more like drinking a shake made in an old-fashioned soda fountain. Forty grams of protein, less than four percent fat, and great taste. What more, I ask you, could you ask for in a protein supplement?

I don’t normally endorse products in so blatant a fashion, but this product was so good, it has turned me into a shill for Labrada. (Not that that’s a bad thing.) Give the product a try. I promise you won’t be disappointed.

I don’t know how it happened, but it did. Spammers managed to attach a series of messages to my body blog entitled, "No More Boats - Ever." In fact, I didn’t even know it was possible to attach spam messages to a body blog, but somehow, it happened to me. So, for the past few weeks or so, I’ve been bombarded by offers to enlarge a part of my anatomy; to quickly and safely lose 25 pounds in 10 days; notified that I am the recipient of more than 10 million US dollars in a Ghana bank; solicited to buy penny stocks that will be selling for thousands in the next few days; solid gold watches (excess inventory) for a $1 a piece; and other offers too stupid and numerous to mention.

Who are the people who generate this crap, and do they really find people gullible enough to send them money? Who, in their right mind, would give a total stranger access to their bank account number, trusting that this person - whom they’ve never met and do not know - will deposit millions of dollars into their accounts? I mean, seriously. Come on. No one is THAT stupid! Are they? Does anyone know anyone who has actually been scammed by this transparent device? If no one has ever taken the bait, then why do the spammers continue to send out this drivel?

Don’t be taken in. If you get a message in your inbox about an offer that sounds too good to be true, that’s because IT’S NOT TRUE! Your account hasn’t been hacked. Your PayPal account is not at risk. Your social security number wasn’t stolen. The password to your Swiss savings account is NOT posted on an Internet bulletin board. Do yourself a favor. Before you believe anything like this - do some research. The few minutes you spend investigating this stuff will save you hours of heartache, grief and bureaucratic red tape. If no one takes the bait, the spammers will eventually stop trying to catch you. Then, they’ll have no alternative but to run for political office, because everyone knows if you really want to rob people blind, you need to do it from the safety of your Congressional seat. 

A friend of mine is going to Vegas to experience, in person, Joe Weider’s Olympia weekend. Need I say that I am green with envy? In all my years of following the sport, I have never - not once - experienced the Olympia in the flesh. Over the years, it has grown into an extravaganza to rival the Indy 500.

At one time, I had dreams of being on the stage, competing for the ultimate prize. I soon came to realize that I had neither the genetic traits nor the all-consuming burning desire to see it through to the end. I can only imagine the sacrifice, the wrecked relationships, and the dedication to the sport that pursuit of the Olympia title must entail. I salute the men and women - past and present - who have competed for the title, and I salute the current crop of competitors for having the courage and guts to make the journey from gym to stage.

If community members are attending the ceremonies in Vegas, take a moment to think about those of us who cannot attend. Take lots of photos and share them with the community. Crumbs from the table are better than no crumbs at all.

Those of you who have been reading my blogs may know that I recently injured my shoulder. I was doing all the right things to heal myself - icing the injured area down; taking anti-inflammatory medication; avoiding heavy weights - all the good stuff. So what happens? This past weekend, while training for my upcoming bike ride, I fell off my bike and (you guessed it) onto my tender shoulder. Yeowww! Did it hurt? Mark me down for an emphatic "YES!" I don’t normally use foul language, but I did on Saturday. I went through all my known curse orders (in alphabetic order, of course). I didn’t think it was possible to hurt that much. You know you’re pretty severely injured when you open your mouth to scream, and all that emerges is a pathetic little whimper.

Luckily, I didn’t break bones. I did, however, strain and tear the ligaments holding my shoulder in place. My visit to the emergency room resulted in an X-ray, a cortisone shot (which hurt just as much as the initial fall), and a week-long dosage of Vicodin. (So maybe it wasn’t ALL bad.)

What this really means is that my three-month Rock-Hard Challenge is on hold for at least a week, and probably two. However, I plan to pick up exactly where I left off. My mother didn’t raise any quitters (except for my brother, and that wasn’t her fault). I’ll continue to post, but my workout tracker will be a lonely little critter until my shoulder heals sufficiently for me to lift the heavy iron again. (I can still do legs, though. Hmmm! That gives me an idea.)

At any rate, don’t cry for me, Bodybuilding Community. The truth is, I’m down, but not out. Out of the ashes of this tragedy, I will rise, like the Phoenix bird of legend, to blaze ever more brightly. (Boy, I do go on, don’t I? I blame the Vicodin. It’s making me a wee bit woozy.)

Until next time, fellow bodybuilders, I remain, as always, your brother in iron.

Before anyone tells me that I should post this in the forums, let me tell you that I already know that I should. But there are two types of people in this community - those who forum; and those who blog. I’m in the blogisphere. I am not now, nor will I ever be a forumite. Now that we’re straight on that, let’s move on to the topic at hand.

I’ve been trying (vainly, it appears) to lose this last ten pounds of bodyfat. All the articles I’ve read; all the people I’ve consulted; and all the experts I’ve talked to agree that the last remnants of adipose tissue are the most difficult to unload. They’re like that annoying relative who comes to visit for a week and ends up hanging around for months. You love them, but they’ve GOT to go. So it is with this last ten pounds.

In an endeavor to hurry the process along, I’ve used both Hydroxycut and Lipo 6. Lipo 6 is my current mainstay, and I find that it is both better and worse than Hydroxycut. On the plus side, it makes me less jittery and give me additional energy (with the exception of today when my body refused to go another step unless I treated it to twelve hourse of uninterrupted sleep. I accommodated it. I had to. It’s not like I had a choice in the matter. It’s like being married. Your wife makes you think you have a choice, but you really don’t. But I digress.)

In Hydroxycut’s favor, it keeps my engine humming longer during the day (and therefore, I assume it’s burning fat longer and with more consistency) than does Lipo 6. It does, however, make me feel as though I could jump out of my skin at any moment. It’s the main reason why I switched to Lipo 6 after finishing the bottle of Hydroxycut. I couldn’t stand the feeling. A swarm of insects crawling over the entire exterior of one’s body was preferable to the agitation I felt when taking Hydroxycut.

I’m nearly finished with the bottle of Lipo 6, and while my weight hasn’t decreased appreciably, I have been shedding fat (albeit rather slowly). My waist line is down another half-inch (yea!). Still, I’m not exactly happy with either product. Would I recommend either or both? Perhaps, but then again, perhaps not. I suppose my recommendation would depend upon my mood on the day I was questioned. Yesterday, I would have endorsed Lipo 6 enthusiasically. Today, I’d offer a more ambivalent recommendation. The same goes for Hydroxycut. When I first started taking it, I’d have called it (in a booming announcer-type voice), "The world’s greatest weight loss product." Today, I would say, "It’s okay. It’s not great, but it doesn’t suck either."

What are your thoughts about either product (or another product in this category). What is the community’s consensus of opinion on this? Enquiring minds are dying to know.

I injured my shoulder while doing incline barbell presses. Either I tried to bench too much weight, or my form wasn’t exact. Whichever it was, I can now attest that my shoulder is officially killing me. It’s not so bad during the day. I usually remember to compensate, and if I don’t remember, the immediate twinge that I get when I stress the joint is normally enough to capture my undivided attention. Night time, however, ah…well, that’s a different story.

For starters, I usually sleep on my left side (the side that the injured shoulder is on, naturally). Because I’ve had to alter my sleeping position, it takes me longer than normal to drop off to sleep. And this is despite my normal mental tricks that are designed to put me into la-la land. To excerebate the situation, I shift in my sleep, habitually onto my left side. Naturally, the pain is enough to stir me from my deepest slumber. I wake (usually whimpering), and then, having dried my tears and once again assumed a manly and stoic posture, return to sleep. As you can imagine, this constant interruption of the sleep cycle is playing absolute havoc with my mental and physical state. I am ALWAYS tired.

I definitely think that drugs of some sort are called for.

As a native New York City resident, I feel, more than most, the loss of the Twin Towers and the people who perished there. I clearly remember ground being broken for the World Trade Center. I recall traveling from Brooklyn to Manhattan to watch those magnificent steel towers rise into the air. I have since visited the site since that terrible day. I have looked up into the empty sky and cried for what we - the American people - have lost. And make no mistake about it. What we have lost is incalculable; and it can never be reclaimed. That, I think, is what I lament the most - our loss. Our loss of innocence; our loss of compassion; our loss of life; and our loss of confidence in our way of life. I ache for what once was and is no longer.

I had intended to write a tribute to the victims and families of 9/11, but I lack the eloquence. Allow me, if I may, to simply say that I will never forget the events of September 11, 2001, and I trust that my fellow Americans will pledge to keep the day fresh in our collective memory.

It’s odd what goes through my mind while I’m working out. For reasons I haven’t yet been able to determine, I tend to think about the same (or similar) topics while doing my exercises. For example, today was leg day. Doing legs is difficult for me because I have a balky back (old Vietnam injury) and I have to be careful about not doing too much before my body is ready to accept it. So, in order to pysch myself up for leg work, I tend to warm up longer than I would if I were doing shoulders or biceps or chest. I do duckwalks, all the while chanting to myself (quietly, of course), "Be strong. Don’t embarress yourself in front of everyone. Don’t do it." After several minutes of that, I’m ready to do squats. I load up the bar, position myself under it, and then, just before lifting it onto my shoulders, I always say, "Okay, folks; it’s show time." It’s an expression I picked up from the film All That Jazz. I can’t do squats unless I say that phrase, and I have to say it aloud. If I don’t (and believe me, I’ve tried) my mind won’t let me pick up the weight. I’ve associated that phrase with my body’s ability to perform that one task. Weird, isn’t it?

Now, when I’m doing bench presses, an entirely different set of thoughts is going through my head. While doing presses, I imagine building a chest thick enough to stop bullets. And I mean literally stop bullets. I envision a thug firing at me, and Superman-like, deflecting the slugs with my pecs so that they fall uselessly at my feet. It’s the world’s stupidest fantasy, but it’s one that enables me to power through my bench press when my muscles are screaming at me to quit. At that point in the routine, my mind always says, "You’ll thank me for this the next time you face a guy with a gun."

Now I realize that confessing this to the world at large may mark me as the strangest person on the face of the earth, but I’m okay with that. I’m okay with that because I know that my brother is even stranger than I am.

Until next time, I remain yours truly. Keep lifting the heavy iron my friends. And remember - Pain is simply weakness leaving the body.

Today marks the official halfway point in the three-month Rock-Hard Challenge, and I must admit that I am nervous. Why, you may ask? Well, allow me to elucidate. After six weeks of hard training, clean eating, and intense aerobics, I look in the mirror and I see very little outward change. Now I know that I am a notoriously hard gainer, but still. I expected something. I posted some progress pics, and those of you who take the time to examine them will see that what I say is indeed the truth. In fact, I think that I may have regressed. (Gasp!)

Am I doing something wrong? I think so, my erstwhile friends. So, for the final six weeks of this challenge, I think I’m going to change some things up. I’ll keep you all posted on what happens.

I am usually the most optimistic and cheerful of men. I don’t believe in "good" things and "bad" things. Shit happens, and it’s only your reaction to them that defines - in your mind - whether they are good or bad. I have a Zen-like acceptance of the world, and so when I get the blues, it’s an occurrence of which I must take notice.

This past week has been especially harsh. I’ve been crabby and cranky. Physically, I feel top-notch, but mentally - I’m blah! I had it in my mind to do a 100-mile bike ride this weekend (in anticipation of the MS ride coming up in October), but I’ve decided against it. I think I need to hunker down in my cave and just be by myself for a couple of days. I’m going to order in some canned salmon and protein shakes, work out in my condo gym, and refuse to answer the phone or respond to email. This blog will be my only contact with the world (maybe) until Monday evening. Maybe, by then, I will regained a small measure of my former equilibrium and can once again return to the world. Until then, keep lifting the heavy iron my bodybuilding friends. It’s good for the body; and good for the soul