PenteKing’s BodyBlog

What follows is a small sampling of the music on my iPod. These are the tunes that I like to listen to while working out. I have several playlists, depending upon the day’s mood. When I’m energized and raring to go, I prefer 70’s disco music. When I have to (literally) drag my sorry butt to the gym, I find that I tend toward 80’s music. When spinning, of course I crank up those tunes that get my legs moving. Amazing invention, the iPod. Kudos to the boys and girls who created the device. Now if they could only come up with wireless ear phones. Oh well; you can’t have everything, I suppose. What are you listening to?

I was in Boston for the past week. My nephew was getting married, and as he is the first one of the next generation to tie the knot, I thought it important to attend the wedding. I arrived early on Tuesday morning, having taken the red-eye from San Diego. With five full days to kill (the wedding was on the upcoming Sunday), I took the opportunity of connecting with friends I hadn’t seen in more than five years.

Seeing them was great. They all looked pretty much the same, except that they had all gained weight. Everyone commented on how great I looked, which was gratifying, but during the visit, I saw why they had all packed on the pounds. Every person I met up with ate the most God-awful unhealthy diet. They uniformly ate food that was loaded with fat and sugar. At breakfast one morning, my friend, Bob, ordered crunchy French toast. This was four slices of white bread, dipped in whole egg and cream, rolled in corn flakes, and then deep-fried in vegetable oil. To make matters worse, Bob then proceeded to drown the entree with maple syrup and butter. He mocked my breakfast of orange juice, English muffin and yogurt. I said nothing, but noted that he was as round as he was tall, had trouble breathing, and could barely walk upright because the weight of his belly was more than his spine could support.

Don’t get me wrong - I love the guy to death, but I was appalled. In my opinion, he is killing himself with food. I read once that Americans are the most overfed and undernourished country on the face of the planet. What I witnessed during my Boston trip gave credence to that statement. In restaurants, I saw plates piled high with foods that lacked nutrition and substance. It was the rare individual who ordered and ate vegetables. Invariably, they stuffed themselves with meat and potatoes and left the salad and green vegetables untouched. And it is these folks who are the most overweight.

Don’t let anyone tell you differently. You are what you eat. Eat crap, and you will look like crap. Eat good quality food, and you will build a body that will stand the test of time. The choice is completely in your hands. For your own sake, make the right decision.

The following is taken verbatim from the Associated Press news wire. This came in about two hours ago, so it’s fairly recent. It’s stuff like this that keeps tarnishing our image, and is a major reason why bodybuilding will never become an Olympic sport. Thoughts and comments are welcomed and encouraged.

BRUSSELS - Ready to flex their pecs and strike a pose, bodybuilders at the Belgian championships scattered when doping officials showed up.

After a spate of positive doping tests in recent years in Belgium, the event had been moved across the Dutch border to Vlissingen for the weekend competition.

“They must have felt safe out there,” doping official Hans Cooman told the Associated Press on Monday.

But Cooman and two colleagues got the necessary papers to check the tournament in the Netherlands. And when they identified themselves just before the event — with the 20 bodybuilders weighing in and preparing themselves — the testers drew quite a response.

The bodybuilders got up and left, preferring to quit rather than submit to doping tests. Some grabbed their gear and headed straight out the door.

“They must have been flabbergasted,” Cooman said.

Bodybuilders usually take months to prepare for such championships, yet the sight of controllers was too much for them.

“I have never seen anything like it and hope never to see anything like it again,” Cooman said.

Bodybuilding has a long history of doping, and Cooman said this latest flap “didn’t do its reputation any good.”

Last year, 22 of 29 tests were positive, either for steroids or for refusing testing, a failure rate of a staggering 75 percent.

“This was the first time though we turned up in the Netherlands,” Cooman said.

Minutes before the start of the championships, before even one gleaming pose was on display, organizers had no option but to tell a few hundred fans that had come to the Arsenaal theater that there was not point in staying.

Now Cooman and his colleagues will report the case to the disciplinary committee, which will have to decide whether the bodybuilders can be punished because they refused to be tested.

A man who refused to give his name at the NABBA Belgium bodybuilding federation could not explain why the competitors had suddenly rushed off and would not discuss the matter.

I was recently laid off from my job, so have had quite a bit of time to think and reflect on the decisions I’ve made, my life’s path (thus far) and what I want to do with the rest of my life. If I’m frugal, I have enough money to last about five or six months. I should be able to find another job in that time span (if the economy and Fate both lend a helping hand), but the real question is - what kind of a job do I want?

Do I really want to return to the 9-to-5 grind, working my tail off for somebody else’s benefit? Or do I want to dial down my lifestyle and find an occupation which may not be as lucrative as my past career, but will give me a sense of accomplishment and true happiness? Lately, I’ve been leaning more to the latter than to the former. My friends tell me that I’m probably just licking my wounds because of being laid off, but I think it’s more than that. I haven’t been truly happy for a very long time now, and I suspect my dissatisfaction has a lot to do with how I earn my crust. I’m good at what I do, but it’s not very satisfying to me.

I could do volunteer work, but I suspect it will not pay the bills. Given the anemic state of my 401(k) plan, I know I’ll have to find gainful employment, but doing what? If any of you have been through something like this recently, I’d be very interested in hearing your thoughts, suggestions and observations. I’m at a crossroads, with no idea which path to follow. Any and all advice will be gratefully accepted.

This coming June will mark my third (!) year as a Bodybuilding.com member. My, my, my, how time flies. It seems like only yesterday that I stumbled across this site, and decided to join. I lurked around for a week or two before finally taking the plunge, but once I did, there was never a moment’s regret. I’ve been constantly motivated by the articles and people who inhabit this web site. I’ve followed the progress of several members, and have even communicated with one or two of them. It’s funny, but in many ways, I feel as though I know them better than some other people who I’ve known for much longer periods of time. There’s something about sharing a common bond that brings people together. And bodybuilding is the closest community of all.

Keep lifting the heavy iron. With every rep, you are making yourself a better person. That is something of which you can be justifably proud.

So, after months and months of maintaining the same body weight (plus or minus a pound or two, depending on how much water I’ve had to drink), I’m finally starting to shed the excess flab around my middle. I’m down under 200 pounds and (knock on wood) I think I’m stabilizing there. My body is notoriously hard to change. It is resistant to nearly everything I throw at it. I suppose that’s good, because it means that it tries very hard to maintain its stasis. However, it does make it that much more difficult to move up or down the scale when I want it to. But, as I said, I think that’s behind me. Now that I’ve convinced my body to give up the fat, it should be smooth sailing from this point forward.

My ultimate goal is to weigh about 190 to 195, with about 7% body fat. Those were my statistics when I got out of boot camp, and I was in the best shape of my life then. If I can get back to that high water mark, I will be one happy man. Wish me luck.

 I increased the number of sets that I’m doing in my workouts beginning this week to see if I can speed up my metabolism a bit. That strategy worked two years ago, and have every expectation that it will work again. I’ve also started another twenty-one day cycle of Animal Stak. Let’s see if I can build some quality lean muscle.

Woolworth store, I got complaint
About one can of ten cent paint
My wife she buy from your damn store
And now, by gosh, I’m good and sore.
You see, late last week, the spring, she come
And everything was on the bum
The walls, the floors, the windows too
Were dirt like hell, I’m telling you.
Now my wife is clean and neat
So she buy paint for toilet seat
And for one whole week we watch with eye
But that damn paint, it no get dry.
Now, my wife ain’t tall; my wife ain’t fat
But on her bottom, where she sat
She now got ring complete
From where she sit on toilet seat
I say to her, "It serves you right"
For try to be so Goddamn tight
That ten cent paint, she ain’t no good;
She won’t dry on no damn wood.”
My daughter, Lisa, get ring around
When on the seat she sit down.
For one whole week, we cramp and wait,
And now we all get constipate.
Lordy, we don’t know what to do
You got to eat and some go through
My wife she sit right down and cry
‘Cause your damn paint, it don’t get dry
My wife got sister named Marie,
Who lives in house with wife and me.
Last night, I look where she sat down
And there, by gosh, was a ring around.
I try to wipe with turpentine.
She howl like wolf, she lose her mind.
I’m scared like hell for half a day.
The skin come off, the paint she stays.
I live long time and never see
A man what get as damn mad as me.
And when I think about that ten cent paint
I get so mad I almost faint.
So, Woolworth store, I now ask you.
What the hell we gonna do?
That toilet seat, it don’t get dry
And if bowels don’t move, we all could die.

Now don’t you think we got complaint?
For buy from you that gosh darn paint
I got the bill, I got the sack
But the paint we use, we can’t bring back
So Woolworth store, I beg repeat
How can house be nice and neat,
When the paint don’t dry on toilet seat?
 

Due to my recalcitrant back, I’ve had a lot of time recently to do serious research on the link between food and overall health. What I’ve found was both surprising and somewhat disturbing. For example, low fat milk is touted as helping to blast fat and build lean muscle, but many people are lactose-intolerant and therefore cannot digest it properly. Nuts are an excellent source of essential fatty acids, but they are nutritionally dense, and therefore avoided like the plague for people looking to lose weight. Milk thistle is purported to have medicinal qualities for the liver, but people who take blood thinners (like me) are advised to stay away from it because it has been shown to cause adverse effects in people who take Wafarin.

What’s a fellow to do? Everything’s good for you, but nothing’s good for you. Carrots are supposed to improve one’s eyesight, but eating too many can cause a buildup of Vitamin A and that can be toxic for you. Leafy green vegetables (spinach, kale, broccoli) are loaded with Vitamin K, but people with deep vein thrombosis (read blood clots) have to limit their intake because Vitamin K is a coagulant. Eggs are a complete protein, but an abundance in one’s diet may increase the likelihood of cholesterol. It’s enough to make you want to spit.

The only safe thing to do (it seems) is to subsist entirely on a diet of rice, beans, brown bread and purified water. In other words, join a monastery and become a monk.

Until next time, keep lifting the heavy iron.

I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before, but last Tuesday, my biking partner, Julie, called me up and suggested we take a bike ride. She wanted to tackle some hills, and because that is my primary weakness on the bike, I agreed with alacrity. I put on my biking shorts, muscled into my jersey, strapped on my shoes and my helmet, and took off to meet up with Julie at her apartment. It was relatively early in the morning - cool, but nice - with little to no traffic on the streets. We were estatic.

We attacked three or four hills, then headed over to Fiesta Island for speed work. We made three or four circuits of the island, keeping the speed to around 18 - 20 mph. After a few hours, we were spent and headed to our respective homes, tired, but satiated.

Now, normally, I do a post-ride stretch to ensure that I stay flexible. At my age, it’s critical to keep the muscles limber. For whatever reason, I neglected my post-ride routine. Instead, I sat down at the computer, fired off half a dozen emails, surfed the ‘Net, and then decided to get up to make coffee.

The pain was enough to bring tears to my eyes. My back seized up like a miser grabbing hold of the country’s last dollar. Spasms shot through my back, down my legs, and into my feet. I collapsed like a pile of overcooked spaghetti. I lay, whimpering, on the floor until the pain subsided enough for me to hobble (and I do mean hobble) to the medicine cabinet where, luckily, I still had a few muscle relaxers left over from my last back spasm. Gobbling them down with about a half liter of water, I lay supine on the floor for the rest of the day.

During this past week, my back has been slowly (very slowly) improving. Each day, I can stretch a little further without screaming in agonizing pain. Yesterday, I was able to walk to my neighborhood restaurant for a bite of dinner. Today, I made it through my gym’s half hour stretching class. (Fabi; if you’re reading this, THANK YOU!!). Tomorrow, I may even be able to jog a little on the treadmill. One can only hope.

Until then, I am simply running on empty. Offer up a prayer for me to whatever gods you believe in. I need all the spiritual help that I can get.

Until next time, my brothers and sisters in iron, I remain a shell of my former self, but still yours truly,.

For those of you who haven’t seen or heard about this yet, I offer, verbatim, the warning that the FDA issued this morning.

U.S. government health officials warned dieters and body builders Friday to immediately stop using the Canadian-made supplement Hydroxycut, linked to cases of serious liver damage and at least one death.

Dr. Linda Katz of the FDA’s food and nutrition division said the agency has received 23 reports of liver problems, including the death of a 19-year-old boy. The teenager died in 2007, and the death was reported to the FDA this March.

Health officials said they have been unable to determine which Hydroxycut ingredients are potentially toxic, partially because the formulation of the products has changed several times. A medical journal report last month raised questions about one ingredient, hydroxycitric acid, derived from a tropical fruit. The article said it could potentially damage the liver.

First, swine flu and now this. Good Lord, is nothing sacred any longer?