PenteKing’s BodyBlog

I’ve decided to compete in a triathalon. My sons think I’m as mad as a hatter (an expression, by the way, that has a very interesting origin) but I’m going to do it anyway. I’ve often thought about training for one, but never got around to actually committing to a training plan. This time, however, I’m in up to my neck.

I took my first swimming lesson this past Saturday, and I’m ashamed to admit how woefully bad I am in the water. You’d think I had a millstone tied around my neck. I sank like a stone. And when I tried to do the freestyle, I thrashed around as though I were wrestling a rabid alligator. It was pathetic. People came from miles around to mock my efforts. Did I let those taunts and jibes cow me? No, I did not. I continued my lesson, content in the knowledge that I can only get better. (I shudder to think how bad things could get if I grow worse!) I have no worries about the biking and running. I know I can do both. Hell, I have done both (maybe not in the same day, but you get the idea). The swimming, though… Well, I can only improve. Wish me luck.

Those of you who have occasionally perused my blog know that I’m an avid bicyclist. I try to get into the saddle at least three times a week. I love biking. In my opinion, it’s the best lower body exercise there is. On a properly fitted bike, there’s no chance of injuring oneself (except, of course, for maniacial motorists). It helps one lose weight, lowers the blood pressure, increases one’s aerobic capacity, and reduces stress. What more could you ask from an exercise?

Somehow, the saddle on my bike had come loose. It had slid back, placing undue strain on my knees. The maladjustment was so imperceptible, I didn’t notice it until my riding partner, Julie, clued me into it. So, I pulled out the tools, and fixed the problem. What a difference! Today, I did 60 plus miles without strain - even going up hills (a notorious weakness of mine). On the straightaways, I was a monster. FOr the whole ride, I averaged 17 miles an hour, 2 miles an hour faster than my usual average. To make it even better, today was an absolutely gorgeous day in San Diego. It was sunny, with high clouds, and a temperature that hovered in the mid 60s. It was perfect biking weather.

Need I tell you that I’m a happy man?

Today, I begin a new 12-week routine. I’ve decided to go back to basics - squats, deadlifts, seated cable rows, etc. I’ve got a plan all laid out. To start, I’m going to start out using weights a little lighter than I’m used to, and increase the weight with every workout during the 12 weeks. Doing this will allow me to lift as heavy as I can until I reach my absolute limit. It’s time to see what my body can and cannot do. I’m tired of guessing, and I’m tired of not challenging myself. I confess that up to now, I’ve not pushed as hard as I could. There are a lot of reasons for that, but those days are behind me now. I’ve had an epiphany. I see that I will never achieve the body of my dreams by coasting. It will take hard work to sculpt my new physique and I’ve been dogging it. Shame on me.

In conjunction with this new routine, I’ve also decided to change my diet. Using the information given on this site, I’m going to ingest the recommended intake of fat, protein and carbs for my bodyweight and composition. This will mean upping my caloric intake and eating at least one more time during the day than I do now, but if I’m serious about this bodybuilding lifestyle, then this is the way to go. My morning meal consisted of 40 g of oatmeal; 1/4 cup of raisins; a tablespoon of honey; 72grams of Met-Rx meal replacement, and 16 ounces of coffee. My mid-morning meal was rice milk; small banana; 1/4 cup of blueberries; and 64 grams of Gold Standard Whey. Lunch was a spinach salad with half a can of tuna, along with a handful of cherry tomatoes.

Watch out, world! I’m turning myself into a lean, mean, fighting machine.

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.

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.

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?

One would think, in this day and age, that all of the misconceptions and misinformation about female bodybuilding would be a thing of the past. Sadly, that is not the case. Today, while working out in the gym (way earlier than usual because I recently lost my job), I got into a rather heated discussion with two other gym members who thought that a female member (who I know very well) was "too masculine".

Normally, I would ignore jerks like this because talking to them has the same effect as talking to the rug. (In fact, sometimes you get a better reaction from the rug.) But what they said rankled me. Fabiana is a good friend of mine, and an occasional lifting partner. I know how strenuously she diets, and how hard she works to build a world-class physique. Her grit and determination are characteristics anyone would be proud to emulate. I consider her my friend. So when these two pissants started making snide comments, I lit into them. The exchange got so heated that the on-duty manager felt compelled to intervene and asked us to take the conversation outside. Wisely, I chose not to do so. (Two against one is never a good idea, especially if you’re on the receiving end.) I put the lid on my temper, plugged in my iPod and continued my workout. The two jomokes, after some muted grumbling, left the gym. Fabiana, who had heard from the manager what the altercation was about, came over to thank me for sticking up for her. I will tell you what I told her.

In the animal kingdom, no one would look at the female of the species and consider them to be "too masculine", no matter how well- or strongly-built they were. Lionesses are every bit as fast and powerful as their male counterparts, and if not for the mane around the male’s neck, you could probably not tell them apart. And it is a fact that the lioness does the lion’s share (poor joke) of the hunting for the pride. Is that consider "masculine"? I think not.

Female bodybuilders should be admired. They work long and hard to sculpt their bodies into works of art. They are justifiably proud of their strength and prowress - as well they should be. I suspect that most men who deride female bodybuilders are either afraid of, or secretly envy them. They aren’t secure enough in their own masculinity to accept the fact that women can be every bit as powerful and self-sufficient as any man. If that’s the case, grow up. Female bodybuilders are here to stay, and here is one man who is damned glad of it.

Yesterday, I participated in the American Diabetes Association’s Tour de Cure. This is a bike ride, designed to raise funds for, and awareness of, diabetes. This disease is rapdily becoming an epidemic, especially among the younger children (children 12 and younger). Because this disease has affected members of my family, I do what I can to help stamp it out. Yesterday, I rode my bicycle 100 miles in and around San Diego county. It was a long, hot and arduous day, but not without its moments of serendipity. Here are some sights and observations.

A man driving a motorcycle with a side car attached. Riding in the sidecar, ears flapping in the wind, tongue lolling out of its mouth, was the happiest cocker spaniel you could ever hope to find.

Sitting alongside a makeshift shrine to his deceased wife, a bereft young man with tears streaming down his face, regretting the wasteful loss of a loved one to a tragic accident.

Parked alongside a stretch of beach in Oceanside, a dog and his master, asleep in the back of a battered pickup truck. Man and dog were snuggled against one another like lovers.

Watching, horrified, as one of my fellow cyclists put on a burst of speed to elude the driver of a pickup truck, who, for no reason we could ascertain, tried to run her off the road.

The event itself was smaller than last year, which is probably not surprising, given the state of the economy. What was surprising was how poorly organized it was. Usually, the organizers run things with the precision of a Swiss watch. Yesterday, there were innumerable gaffes, miscues and errors. It made things difficult.

The ride itself was challenging, as always. I’m glad I participated. I managed to raise $1,000 (less than last year), but every dollar counts.