Mondays (old blog)
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Day 9
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So this and Day 8 are one day behind, for those of you following this you noticed I missed a day. Terribly sorry, here is yesterdays workout. I’m not working out today, so tomorrow I’ll be back on track.
Live life to the fullest.
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"Sure I am this day we are masters of our fate, that the task which has been set before us is not above our strength; that its pangs and toils are not beyond our endurance. As long as we have faith in our own cause and an unconquerable will to win, victory will not be denied us.”
A Monday, another beastly Monday. One of those make or break days. Woke up early, went to the job site with my old man, our old pastor came to help us out as well. Spraying mud on the ceiling, mixing and pouring and brushing. You know those fancy swirly patterns you find on ceilings? The ones that are swirls or squares, etched in like corduroy? Yeah, they’re made with a broom. Nothin’ fancy. Simple tool for a simple job. But the results are top of the line. Should be the way everything is. Grab it and go at it. That’s what I was thinking down in the basement, first song blasting out of the system. Staring down at the dumbells. Presses, at 80 pounds. 3 sets of 6. Alone in the basement. The weights in a pile, just sitting there. Not even challenging me, giving me cause to go and blast them. Just there, in the corner. The new set I’d bought last spring, and the rust covered iron donated by my uncle. Not even waiting for use. If I was going to lift today, there was going to be no-one but me pushing me. Sometimes I use the weights themselves to push me. Today they didn’t want to comply. But that’s all they really are, just piles of iron and steel. ****, they don’t even do anything. It’s gravity. It’s gravity that makes the muscles big. It’s not about the steel. Without gravity, all the metal in the world couldn’t make you buff. Stood there, thinking about that. Guttural screams mixed with a double base pedal washing over me, feeling my heart start to beat faster. It was a time of indecision. Nothing ****ing easy about what I do. Day in and day out, punishing my body for something that won’t be noticeable for months and months, ensuring I don’t miss a day or slack off. Shit shit shit. Some days you can’t think about the why. Some days that pot of gold at the end isn’t enough to keep you going. This was one of those days. And it’s on these days, where the dream isn’t big enough, and the reward seems too small, where people fail. Where I cross a field laden with cement blocks hiding behind tufts of grass, each one waiting to make me stumble. But we must endure. Endure not only the physical hardship, but the mental weakening. The torturer, asking to stop if only we’d accept. Just tell the truth. Just tell me what you know. It’d all end. Here it is, here’s your way out. But the way out isn’t where I want to go. I can see what door I want to go through, and that bastard is standing right in my way. So for today, I can do nothing but endure. Endurance of the mind. The body can do it all. Endurance of the soul. Steeling yourself for another bout of misery and indecision. For all of the worlds contempt for what you do, and the contempt you give yourself. Why can’t today just be a day off?
"Everybody want to be a bodybuilder but nobody want to lift no heavy ass weights."
Just blind myself to everything. To the goal, to the way out. Shut it all out. This is a day where you shut the **** up and do what you’re supposed to. Just shut up and lift. It’s not about you, it’s not about what you want. Even if you want to do the right thing. Just shut the **** up and lift. 3 sets of 6 at 80lbs. Finished the last set with 9, just ’cause I could. Moved on to the barbell. No time for thought. I can’t, I’m told not to. Don’t think, just do. You’re not in control here, son. Move to the next exercise and do it. 75 pounds, curled 3 sets of 8. Moved on. They’re my weights, I know where they are. The musics in the background, screaming and crying and wailing and pulsing. 45 pound plates, don’t **** around setting up dumbells. Shrugs, 3 sets of 10. Now I’m starting to fade. Intensity is a fickle thing. Comes and goes as it pleases, you’re the one who has to make it stay. Today is a day where I couldn’t do that. No thoughts, no thought. Give the brother a holler, ask for a spot on the bench. 165, 8 times. 155, only seven. Going strong until the 7th rep. Like running into a ****ing wall, that’s what it felt like. From hero to zero in less time than it takes to spit. The triceps just couldn’t sustain it. That’s another thing I’ve lost. The muscular endurance. Just my indecision today showed my lack of mental endurance. The body is going right along with it, shackled. It’ll go as far as the mind wants it to. I’m frustrated now. Frustrated with all the shit from my parents, from getting shoddy nights sleep, from having to miss some of tonights concert. From my lack of drive. From the lack of support. Nobody enters my realm. Nobody. Nobody steps in and says I’ve got your back brother, you stay strong. Nobody is amazed by this monumental task. Nobody else wants it. They see it, smile, nod. And that’s it. "Oh, that’s cool." **** you and your cool. **** you and your superiority. Jesus Christ, is it so hard to enthusiastic for a man? Maybe they all think it’s about bragging, about being better. Damn right it is. But not at such a petty level. It runs way deeper than they even care to imagine. It’s these same nobodies who are afraid to say what they’ve done, what they’ve accomplished. Like it’s rude or something. ****, if it’s cool, if you’re proud of it, just say it. I’m rooting for you just like I’m rooting for the next guy. Let me hear it, shout it to me down the hallway, send me a goddamn email. Got an A on an exam? **** yeah, that’s great shit. Got the girl of your dreams? I’ll be the first one toasting with you. Did you manage to stay on your diet for 4 days, and you’re still going? Come on over, and we’ll swap recipes. I get so pumped for those *******s, and then they throw my shit back in my face. Parental support, peer support. Nothing. It’s not their world, and heaven forbid if they try to enter. Put to much strain on their oh-so-busy lives. "Oh, that’s cool." My favorite is when they ask how the workout was, and keep walking. Like saying it over their shoulder. What the **** is that? So I’m on my own, and it gets tough. Somedays you gotta flip the switch, turn into an automan. Plug and chug. Hang and bang. It’s not about you, it never was…
"As he was valiant, I honour him; but, as he was ambitious, I slew him" .
Dumbell rows, 3 by ten back to back with 80 pounds. Lower back is in pain, I can feel the strain of deadlifting twice in one week. But I’ll beat this body into submission or die trying. So that I can find release. One more exercise, one more ****ing exercise, and I can be out of this basement, coats and couches and papers and games all around. Man can’t even get serious about the weights surrounded by this garbage. Whatever. Just do as you’re told. Jake Clark specials, 28 pounds, 3 X 10. Done, done done done. But not yet. Upstairs is yet another task. Downing a protein shake. I’m so sick of the garbage, those little ****ers who bitch about supplements and protein, how they want to get "real" muscle. Little shits need to take chemistry, or biology. Protein is in everything, steak, milk, chicken, and yes. That double cheeseburger you’re hawking down. So don’t you get in my ****ing face about the way I get my protein. You get yours from cheeseburgers, I’ll take mine in a shake made from concentrated milk. People spend money on healthy food all the time, but because I spend mine to become so obviously better than you there’s an issue. You know what the **** it is? They all want an excuse. An excuse so the bastards can sleep better at night, walk around with their heads still high. Not by making their own gains or trials any better mind you, but by making mine less. Smaller. As if there’s less meaning in them. Don’t pick yourself up, just bring everyone else down. Yup, that’s cute. Do your homework. Protein is ****ing protein. This is what man does, he evolves. He improves, he makes things better. Funny how they only fight it when they’re not on the boat… But it sucks. You think protein shakes is an easy way out? Try to drink one of those ****ers. Talk about shit in a can. I use a powder, and mix it up with the blender. The smell, give you a headache. The taste, makes vomit seem like the only sensible option. See, this is because I take the healthy shakes. Ones without the truckload of carbs and sugar. Pure protein. And it’s a beastly, disgusting concoction. But there’s no other choice. You can break your body down all you want, but by golly you better give it something to fix itself after you’re through with it. Otherwise you’re doing nothing but lasting damage. And serves you right, for not knowing what you’re getting into. For not taking the time to be prepared. For the science, for the moves. For the highs, and for the lows. Fire is a consumer. It eats and eats and eats. And sometimes you just run low on fuel… But sleep will come, and that next day will be a new day.
"If you prick us, do we not bleed? if you tickle us, do we not laugh? if you poison us, do we not die? and if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?
