PenteKing’s BodyBlog

After thinking about it for quite a long while, I decided to reach out to The Goddess Athlete (Chrissy to her friends) to solicit her help in shocking my body into either gaining or losing weight. (Frankly, at this point, I’m indifferent as to which way I go, so long as I jump off this plateau.) Much to my delight, Chrissy has agreed to take me on as a (virtual) client. I’m not sure what she has in store for me, but whatever it is, it has to be better than what I’m doing. I’ve researched her qualifications and have seen, in her pictures and on her web site, what her practices have done for her physique. I received the forms she forwarded to me the other day and I must say that I am encouraged by the depth and breadth of what she has planned for me. So far, Chrissy has shown herself to be both thorough and professional.

Naturally, being a verbose writer and dedicated chronicler of events large and small, I intend to publicize my triumphs and failures to the community. Whatever happens, I have promised myself to be unstintingly honest and objective. I am determined to build lean, hard, useful muscle. I will take no shortcuts and I will make no excuses. I plan to defy my age. I will do this, come hell or high water. Failure is not an option.

(Taking a deep breath and jumping into the deep end of the pool.)

…that is the question. After an uncharacteristically long silence, I feel compelled to jot down a few observations on my workouts in general and my body in particular. The main problem is that I really don’t feel like writing. Normally, when it comes to facing the blank white page, I can barely restrain myself from filling it with words. Not so today. Today, the blank page is a barrier - something to be feared and overcome; not a friend beckoning me to sully her pristine beauty with strange marks and cirliques. Still, although the task seems daunting, I throw off the shackles of my mind and spirit and take virtual pen in hand to commit this blog to the digital universe. If I don’t, what I am feeling and thinking today will be lost forever.

I am frustrated with my body. After losing all the bad weight I had put on over the course of a dozen years, my body is in stasis. Having reached the 195 - 200 pound range, my body stubbornly refuses to lose or gain any weight. Believe me, I’ve tried. I think that during the past year, I have tried every method recommended on this site. Nothing; nada; zip; zilch. The scale refuses to budge. This is extremely discouraging. I would dearly like to gain some quality muscle. I have dreams - visions, even! - of a 32 inch waist, topped with a chest straining the tape measure at 47 to 48 inches. I long to have thighs that are the envy of football offensive lineman. Nothing.

Am I getting stronger? You betcha. I can lift way more today than I could a year ago. My endurance has increased exponentially. I can run a 5K race and barely get my pulse rate over 120. I can ride my bike for 100 miles and not feel as though my legs will fall off. I can run the Convention Center stairs and not fall, gasping, to the ground.

Maybe this is it for me. Maybe the physique I have now is the one I am destined to carry to the grave with me. If that is the case, then woe is me! There goes my dream of competing on stage. There goes my desire to have the body I’ve always yearned for. What to do? Do I continue to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune? Or do I take up arms against my sea of troubles, and by so opposing, end them?

What, if anything, would you do in my place? Thoughts, comments and suggestions are not only welcomed, but are also warmly encouraged.

I don’t know what it is, but I’m feeling blah today. Perhaps it’s the mental strain of preparing for the big presentation on Wednesday. Perhaps it’s the bike ride I took on Sunday. Perhaps it’s simply a matter of ennui. Whatever the reason, I’m just not feeling it. This doesn’t happen often to me. I’m usually the most upbeat and energetic individual you will ever meet. I’m one of those annoying people who are always "up". Except for those rare occasions when I’m down.

Although, I must say, this is different. I’m not tired; I’m not depressed; I’m not angry. I’m just blah. I don’t want to depress anyone else, so I’ll content myself with a recounting of today’s diet and call it a day. If anyone has words of cheer for me, pass them along. I could use them.

40 G Oatmeal; .25 C Raisins; 1 Tbsp Honey; Labrada’s Carb Watcher Lean Body; 7.5 oz canned Sockeye Salmon; 2 organic sesame seed rice cakes; 22 almonds; 8 oz boneless, skinless chicken breast; 1.5 gallons of water.

According to the Christian calendar, it is the year 2009. Time, as we all know, is a man-made invention, so for all we know, it could 15674 in some other calendar. It really doesn’t matter, except that it’s a convenient way to mark the long march of one’s life from cradle to grave.

How is everyone doing? Personally, I’m doing rather well, thank you very much. I have a job (for which I thank my boss every day); I have two sons who love me, and who have turned out halfway decent. (I could have done a better job, but then, I think every parent thinks the same thing.) I have my health, food on my table, and a roof over my head. I am doing better than most, and every day that I open my eyes, I thank God (or Providence or Fate or Allah or whatever name you choose) for what I have and I commit myself every day to making myself a little bit better than I was the day before.

So many people that you encounter p*** and moan about this and that and the other thing. To them, I always say, "Be the change you want to see in the world." The quote is Gandhi’s, but I’m certain he won’t deny me the privilege of using it. Gandhi was cool that way. I, for one, am constantly trying to live the life I’ve imagined. I ask myself, "How can I get what I want and need without hurting anyone else?" You’d be amazed at the number of things you can accomplish when you put your mind to it.

Do I get discouraged? Certainly! I’m human, after all. I get discouraged; I get down; I get depressed. What I don’t do is wallow in my sorrow. There is no reward in it. Negativism breeds more negativism. Despondency breeds depression which in turn plants the seeds of self-hate. We’ve got enough problems to deal with without adding that worry to our lives. Who, I ask you, needs that kind of baggage? I’m willing to bet no one.

So do yourself a favor. Count your blessings instead of your sheep. (Thank you Bing Crosby.) Look around and be grateful for what you have, however small and humble that something may be. There is always someone worse off than you are. And when you discover that person, do him a good turn. It will benefit the both of you.

Kudos to the person who invented the bicycle. As with most inventions, I imagine the final product was the collective work of many people - each one building upon the success (or failure) of the inventor who had gone before him (or in the case of partners, those who had worked alongside him). However the process worked, I thank Providence that the human mind had the ability to imagine - and then create - the bicycle.

I can’t think of a comparable human invention that is at once so useful and so much damned fun. I love rolling through the streets of San Diego - wind in my hair, sun on my back - taking in the sights. I pity motorists stuck behind the wheels of their automobiles, rushing from one appointment to the next, barely stopping long enough to take a deep breath. I love the fact that riding my bike has increased my aerobic capacity (that will come in handy the next time I have to outrun a Siberian tiger (Hey, it could happen.)), strengthened my legs and given my a better outlook on the world in general. I think it’s those happy pheromones coursing through my bloodstream. Whatever the reason, I’m grateful. Bicycling is fantastic.

Now that I’ve waxed rhapsodic about the joys of bicycling, allow me to tell you about the two (2!) 100 miles rides that I plan to undertake this spring. One happens in March, and goes from an elevation of sea level to more than 4,000 feet before returning to more prosaic levels. The second - in April - rises to 6,000 feet above sea level. Either or both of these rides has the potential to turn my legs into noodle-like jelly. Either or both of these rides has the potential to cause me to lose more than five pounds of bodyweight in the course of a day. (I am not kidding. You have NO idea how much I sweat when riding hard.) Either or both of these events has the potential of taxing my physical limits to the breaking point.

So why am I doing this? I LOVE BICYCLING!!! A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. And if it kills me, at least my friends can say that I died doing something I loved. What more can you ask for?

Saturday, April 18, 2009 is the big day. That is the day I plan to ride 100 miles on my bicycle to benefit the American Diabetes Association. One hundred miles is a long time to be in the saddle, but I know that I can do it. I did a century and a half (albeit over two days) in October as part of the MS Bay-to-Bay Bike Ride. Still, training for the event will be a challenge. Unless you keep at it every day (and who among us working stiffs can?) you very quickly lose your edge. So even though my mind tells me that 100 miles won’t be a problem, but suffering body may have a decidedly different opinion.

Luckily, I was able to connect with a group of riders who also plan to compete in the event. We have made a pact (a covenant, actually) to meet every Saturday between now and the day of the event to train together. Our first ride is scheduled for this Saturday, with a targeted mileage of fifty miles. I doubt we’ll finish, but it’s nice to have a goal to shoot at.

If anyone wants to donate to my cause, you can visit the website and make a donation. I know that times are tough and everyone is looking to cut expenses, but the funds raised really do go to a good cause. My maternal grandmother died from diabetes, and my younger brother currently suffers from it, so I know, firsthand, was a nasty and debilitating disease this is. The ADA is committed to eradicating diabetes through a combination of education (eating healthy) and treatment. I promise to do my part. I vow to complete the 100 miles. How do the postal carriers put it? Neither rain, nor snow, nor lack of training will delay this rider from the swift completion of the arduous course.

Cycle on!

I have fifteen days left on my membership at The Gym @ 734 (formerly the Powerhouse Gym of Hillcrest, for those of you who have been following my bodybuilding adventure). Entering the gym today, it was evident that a lot (and I mean, a lot) of new people have made it their New Year’s resolutions to get in shape. I’ve never seen the men’s locker room so crowded. Rationally, I know that nearly 60% of these folks will never make it past their 90th day of membership. (Statistics and past history are our stalwart companions in this regard.) So, all I have to do is tough it out, and the days of uncrowded incline benches and butterfly machines will return.

Still, suppose each and every person who joined in the last week decides to stick with his or her exercise plan. This represents nearly a 40% increase in the gym’s membership. (Good for the gym; bad for the members.) The more members a gym has, the less exercise time us dedicated bodybuilders can devote to our workouts (unless, of course, we change our schedules to those odd hours when the rest of the world lies a’bed). It’s a sad but true fact of life. We were all newbies once, but you know and I know that newbies are a royal pain in the butt. They lollygag around the equipment; have very little regard for others; and almost invariably are ignorant of gym etiquette (no cell phones!).

So, I have a decision to make. Either I renew my membership for another year (I get a pretty good discount if I do that rather than opting for a month-to-month plan) and hope for the best, or I shop around to find another gym more conducive to the style to which I’ve become accustomed.

Now, I know this makes me sound like a snob, and I’m willing to accept the criticism that comes my way as a result of this blog, but in spite of all that, I still solicit your advice. I value your opinion - whether it’s favorable to me or not - and ask that you help me make up my mind (what little I have left of it). Thanks in advance for your support.

Although some may say that this is late, it is, in fact, timely. Contrary to popular belief, they are not the twelve days before Christmas, but instead, begin on December 25th and run through January 6th. January 6th, as you may or may not know, is the Feast of the Epiphany, or "Little Christmas." The song that has come to be associated with Twelfth Night has many roots in English, French and Spanish culture. I’ve done some research on this particular aspect of the Yuletide season and would like to share what I’ve discovered with you.

A partridge in a pear tree - fertility and fruit have represented sex for centuries. The apple represents the female, the pear the male. The partridge is well-known as a vibrantly lusty bird. Therefore, a partridge in a pear tree suggest a sexual symbolism.

Two turtle doves - Doves are believed to mate for life. They represent devotion, faithfulness and everlasting love.

Three French hens - all hens are believed to represent motherly devotion. Are French hens more maternal than say, English hens? This is something we will never know and cannot prove, but it makes for good legend.

Four calling birds - this should actually be colly birds. Colly birds are a European black bird which were highly prized as a delicacy in the English court. Having four colly birds at Christmas time was a sign of significant wealth and abundance.

Five golden rings - are not jewelry,but are said to represent the five golden rings around a pheasant’s neck. (Are you beginning to see a bird-related theme here?) The pheasant was believed to have descended from the Golden Fleece of Jason and the Argonauts fame, and so pheasants were highly prized as the Christmas main course.

Six geese a’laying - because of their migratory patterns, geese were seen as representing the start of the solar year, and also as a sign of fertility. By the 1800s, the boar in England had been hunted almost to extinction. Because the artic goose, which was peculiar to England, roosted in trees, the English, thinking that the bird was considered a "fruit" of the tree, and not the "flesh of animals", thought that it was appropriate to substitue the now-extinct boar with the goose.

Seven swans a’swimming - many English beliefs came to them from their Roman occupiers. Romans, who got the legend from the ancient Greeks, believed that a loved one’s soul could be reincarnated in a swan, with gold and silver chains around their necks as a symbol of their enchantment. In Britian, to this day, the swan is still associated with royalty.

Eight maids a’milking - because of the lack of refrigration, milk had to be consumed almost immediately. Milk’s byproducts - especially cheese - were highly prized because they required no refrigration. Cheese was often used to feed the family during long, hard winters. This explains why milk was so important to English culture. When a maid was asked to go "a’milking", it was either a proposal of marriage, or an invitation of a different (and risque) sort. We are unsure which intention is meant in the song, but its inclusion is suggestive in that it fits with the theme of fertility and rebirth that permeates the lyrics.

Nine drummers drumming - the drum, introduced into the English culture via the fruits of the Crusades, was often used as a way of summoning the king or queen’s guests to dinner (which probably included goose and pheasant - and, if they were lucky, some colly birds baked into a pie. Think "Sing a song of Six Pence").

Ten pipers piping - sitting around watching sheep is a boring job. (If you don’t believe me, give it a try.) Anyway, to while away the time, shepards would often play their pipes. It is rumored that they were playing a their pipes in the field when an angel of the Lord appeared to them to announce the birth of the child in Bethelem.

Eleven ladies dancing - during the Middle Ages, dances were known as caroles. It became a very popular form of entertainment. Dancing was done in a circle around a fire, which represented warmth and light. By the 15th century, caroles were associated with songs. The songs soon had lyrics associated with them, and this is how Christmas Carols came into being.

Twelve Lords a’leaping - these dances were meant strictly for men. Not only were they supposed to ready a man for war, they were also meant to fire up his blood for more intimate pleasures. In Britian, the lords a’leaping were customed dancers who performed for royalty in between the courses served at Christmas dinner.

There you have it. True or not, fanciful as it may be, this is what I have discovered in my research. It was fascinating to learn about the different traditions and to see how they were incorporated into the celebration we now regard as Christmas. To all in the community, have a great year.