PenteKing’s BodyBlog

In order to make up for the pear tart I ate yesterday (which, by the way, was FANTASTIC), I decided I would put in seventy-five miles on the bike this morning. As a Christmas present, I received a pair of thermal biking pants, and as the weather was less than pleasant, I thought I would kill two birds with one stone - exercise my indulgent body and break in my new biking pants.

Everything went according to plan, except for one tiny little hitch. I was traveling north on a stretch of road that borders the bay. The cross-winds from the ocean were FIERCE! I was being blown back and forth across the road. It was all I could do to keep traveling in a straight line. Despite all this, I was clocking along at about 14  to 16 miles per hour. As I passed a clump of bushes, a flock of birds (that either I or some other creature had disturbed) burst out of their shelter and winged along in front of me. Needless to say, it startled the crap out of me. Instinctively, I swerved, just as a violent gust of wind blew in from the bay. My front tire went off the road and into the soft shoulder. I probably would have regained my balance and been okay, but for some stupid reason, instead of stablizing the bike and then getting back on the hardtop, I turned the wheel to the left and…well, you can guess what happened. I went ass over teacup. I landed pretty heavily on my left wrist. The momentum was enough to tumble me over hard enough to crack my head against the madcam. I skidded along the ground for about four feet or so before coming to rest on my back with my bicycle atop me. Luckily, my helmet saved my gourd and long sleeves and pants saved most of my skin. I did tear my brand-new pants and suffered a rather large abrasion on my left knee, but considering what could have been, I got off easy.

After a few minutes, I dusted myself off, assessed the damage to my bike (some scratches - nothing major), re-adjusted the chain that had slipped off the sprockets, and pedaled home. I didn’t get my 75 miles, but did manage to put in 60 miles. I suppose that counts for something. I’ve taken some Motrin, iced the injured wrist down, and plan on doing NOTHING for the next two days. To do anything else is to thumb my nose at the Fates and that is NEVER a good idea. They let me off easy this time. Next time, they may not be so forgiving.

…is the toughest challenge - ever! There is simply SO MUCH TEMPTATION! Everyone is offering you a taste of his or her "favorite" holiday treat. "Honestly," they say, "you’ve never tasted anything like this. And besides, my [insert your choice of spouse, lover, partner, significant other] made this especially for the holidays." I try and let people know that sweets (especially cake) is not in my plan, but they persist. "One little bite isn’t going to kill you." OH, YEAH!? I want to shout. What do you know?

Seriously, it’s a tough row to hoe. I’m surrounded by sugar. A veritable tidal wave of empty calorie treats threatens to drown me. I feel as though I’m trapped in Willie Wonka’s Chocolate Factory, with no way out. It’s scary, I tell you. I hide in my office, terrified of coming out - scared that I’ll be tackled by a co-worker brandishing a sugar plum and a cup of rum-laced egg nog. Is there no refuge - no sanctuary? Is there no bodybuilding island to which I can retreat until the fruit cake and toasted marshmallows have gone the way of the dodo bird?

What is a dedicated bodybuilder to do? I thought about feigning a broken jaw, but that seemed a bit too coincidental and contrived. How about I fake an allergic reaction? I can paint my face with a realistic-looking rash that would make a hardened dermatalogist shiver. Do you think that would work? I’m trolling for suggestions and advice. Don’t let me face this on my own, my brothers and sisters in iron. Send me - if not the plan of action that works for you - at least support for my plight.  Act quickly. I think I hear the gumdrop trolls knocking at my door.

To All My Democrat Friends:

Please accept with no obligation, implied or implicit, my best wishes for an
environmentally conscious, socially responsible, low-stress, non-addictive,
gender-neutral celebration of the winter solstice holiday, practiced within
the most enjoyable traditions of the religious persuasion of your choice, or
secular practices of your choice, with respect for the religious/secular
persuasion and/or traditions of others, or their choice not to practice
religious or secular traditions at all. I also wish you a fiscally
successful, personally fulfilling and medically uncomplicated recognition of
the onset of the generally accepted calendar year 2009, but not without due
respect for the calendars of choice of other cultures whose contributions to
society have helped make America great. Not to imply that America is
necessarily greater than any other country nor the only America in the
Western Hemisphere . Also, this wish is made without regard to the race,
creed, color, age, physical ability, religious faith or sexual preference of
the wishee.

To My Republican Friends:

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

Found this on the Internet and couldn’t resist sharing it with you all.

Change is everywhere. It’s in the way we access our news. It’s in the way we communicate (who would have thought five years ago that everyone would have access to a cell phone that could keep you in touch with anyone instantaneously?) It’s evident on the political scene. It shows up in how we listen to our music, watch our television shows (TIVO and On-Demand, anyone?), and it’s evident in the way in which we interact with one another (hello, Facebook and Twitter).

I’m approaching all of these changes with a sense of wonder and anticipation. If this is what we have today, what will we have tomorrow? Will we bodybuilders be responsible for changing the way ordinary people eat and exercise? I firmly believe that the answer to that question is a resounding "YES!". The trails that we are blazing today in the arena of supplements, macrobiotics and organic food are setting the standard for what everyone will take for granted five to ten years from now. Controlling bodyfat levels and even some diseases by changing the foods we put into our bodies will have a positive impact upon future generations. There are times when I feel like one of the early astronauts - stripping off the surly bonds of Earth so that I can soar and do a thousand different things.

And for those of you who doubt what I say, take a moment to see how far the bodybuilding lifestyle has come since the days of Arnold and Lou and Franco. They were great champions, one and all, but they are dwarfed today by the current crop of bodybuilders who walk the planet. These are the men and women who are the supermen and superwomen of today and the paradigm of tomorrow. They are our inspiration and our hope. They are the ideal to which we aspire. They are the ones who are changing the world - one step at a time.

My youngest son, Doug, lives in Boston (where he was born and raised). I keep asking me to move out to San Diego to be with me, but he refuses. He doesn’t want, he says, to leave his "home". I constantly tell him that home is where the heart is, but my words fall on deaf ears. I mention moving to Doug ever now and again, but I’ve reconciled myself to the fact that we will live on either side of the continent.

Today, Doug called me, ostensibly to finalize arrangements for his holiday visit with me. We chatted about this and that, and then he mentioned that he was stuck at home. When I questioned why he wasn’t at work, he informed me that an ice storm had blanketed the entire Northeast, depriving more than a million people of electricity. There was no way for him to get around because the roads are covered with a layer of ice that makes traveling impossible. He has no electricity, therefore, he has no heat (the heater is powered by electricity), and (horror of horrors), Doug couldn’t make it to the liquor store before the storm hit, so he has NO BEER! I sympathized with Doug, refrained from gloating over his plight, and wished him well. After I hung up, I thought about the differences in our lives - and you know what? I’m glad I live in San Diego.

Has anyone else experienced this lately? You get a private message (from someone you presume is one of your friends here on Bodybuilding.com), and then open it to find that it’s a sleazy solicitation. This has happened to me three times in the past week alone. I don’t think these solicitations are because of my looks or my charming personality (although that might have something to do with it <wink>). I’m not sure what’s up with this, but it’s a little freaky. I keep asking myself, "What do these people want?" I don’t ever click the embedded links that are usually found in the messages I receive. I have three very good friends who did exactly that, and lived to regret that rash and impulsive act. And with all the news stories and warnings floating around, I can’t believe that there are people who still fall for this old carnard. Yet, there must be because the messages never stop arriving.

But, I digress. My original intent in writing this blog was to poll the community to see if this was an impending epidemic, or is it confined solely to me? If the former, I will take the responsibility of notifying the Webmaster of the practice to see if he can put a stop to it. If it’s only me…well, that’s another story altogether, isn’t it?

Seriously, folks; let me know.

The signs have been there for several weeks. The ugly wall bisecting the gym down the middle was the first thing to go. Freshly painted bathrooms, new matting, and a schedule of classes featuring yoga, abs, and Pilates were other notable signs. One by one, personnel who had been with the gym for a while were replaced by younger (and admittedly, more enthusiastic) staff. We all knew the gym was changing hands. Some of the members were estastic. Others were dismayed. The old gym was a magnet for the local gay crowd. It wasn’t one of those places where gays met to openly ogle one another with the intention of hooking up, but straight people weren’t overly welcomed. The few straights (like me) who stuck around were eventually accepted, but for a while there, it was touch and go. I have no qualms about working out with gays (or lesbians, for that matter). When I go to the gym, it is with one purpose - to train. I’m not there to criticize, judge, ogle, hook up, or fool around. I’m there to work out. I banter with a few of the more friendly members, but on the whole, I avoid socializing. That’s post-workout stuff. When I’m lifting, the earphones are in, and I have a laser-focus on what I’m trying to accomplish. For those reasons, I was accepted, and while the gym could never be as good as the Athletic Center, I have grown accustomed to it.

The new ownership is committed to expanding the membership. They’ve added classes that are designed to attract women, and the policy seems to be working. In the past three weeks, they’ve increased their female contingent by more than 50%. The new paint - the pictures - the upgrades to the aerobic equipment - these are all good things. I’m only concerned that they don’t turn the place into a 24-Hour Fitness clone. One of the reasons why I avoid 24-Hour Fitness is the large number of dilletants (sp?) who frequent the establishment. The majority seem more intent on having a good time than in improving their bodies. If that happens to this gym, I’m afraid I will have to seek out another place more suitable to my goals.

BTW, the name of the new gym is "The Gym @ 724". If any of you are in the San Diego area, check it out. Your father’s Powerhouse, this ain’t.

Those of you who are old enough to remember (or are movie afficanados) will recognize that phrase from the film, Rocky. I own the original on DVD, and, on a whim, popped it into the player the other night. I had forgotten how much heart and soul the original film had in it. Sly Stallone hit the ball out of the park with that movie, and no film that he’s done since had as much emotion and passion as Rocky did.

What I most identified with was the series of scenes when Rocky is preparing for the big fight against Apollo Creed. He starts out barely being able to make it from his apartment to the steps of City Hall. He reaches the top, but he’s winded and hurting, and barely able to limp back home. That scene recalled to mind my first reaction after beginning to workout after my long layoff. Like Rocky, I, too, was barely able to make it through my first workout. I ached in every joint and part of my body. But, also like Rocky, I grew stronger and more confident. I got better and better until I reached the point where I am today.

I’m not ready to fight Apollo Creed, or go up against Denis Wolf, but I’m feeling strong now. I’m gonna fly now.

My son recently relocated to LA from Boston. Having been separated from him for more than a year, I was terrifically excited to have him closer to me. I thought we’d have the chance to visit with one another more often and to re-establish the bond that we had when he was younger. I gave him money to aid in his relocation, and contacted many people in my network to see about getting him a job. That was three months ago.

Today, my son informed me that he was "going home". LA, he said, was awful. He has no friends; no job; and he misses his friends and family. To say that I am heartbroken by this last statement is putting it mildly. His family? I’m not his family? I was the one who raised him, who nutured him, who rescued him from his mother’s abusive ways, and I’m not family? I feel used and angry and hurt and disappointed, all at the same time. I feel betrayed. If I could cry, I would.

Kids. They’ll break your heart every single time.