Spring, Sprang, Sprung

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Woe to you skiers and skaters and snowball makers. The cold and slippery winter cycle is complete, it’s done and behind us. I am not disappointed; you might say I’m thrilled, elated and relieved, almost speechless and I don’t want time to hurry on by unnoticed, unsavored. Alas, the best I can do is underscore the passing moments with a few words to you and me, bombers in flight.

Slow us down, Lord.

Real weather is an experience: a blizzard, bitterly cold exposure, howling winds or a silent snowfall making soft and white the rural fields, empty neighborhood lots and the noisy streets of the city. I love it... for about a day and a half.

Otherwise, the winter hiatus to me is for inward journeys and lone tasks, mixed with hibernating, hiding out and staying low. The blustery stretch is particularly useful for hardening and toughening one’s nature, preparing one’s spirits with the wintry treats of icy shadows, early nights, withering leaves and white snow gone grey in crusty roadside heaps.

Aching joints replace a good pump, gravity strangely increases with each stiff and chilly workout, the body becomes a mystery object beneath layers of clothing and the hard-earned tone and tan, like ducks, go south. Wait... there’s more. Inconvenient holidays place obstacles in our path and a continually runny nose leads the way.

Thank God for the fireplace and snuggling and hot soup.

Today -- mark it with a daffodil -- we stand at the edge of spring, a sumptuous upward swing full of warming breezes, clearing skies, lengthening days and mile-high hopes. It’s the season of rebirth, revival and restoration. Our days are spent opening doors and windows, shedding hooded sweatshirts, scratching around in fertile soil and letting the sun grace our skin and nurture our Vitamin-D-starved bodies. Those slits above and to the left and right of our recently un-stuffed noses open wide to delight in the burgeoning landscape before us. Joy! Planning is replaced by spontaneity and we find ourselves in the gym while it’s still daylight, our favorite T-shirt saturated with sweat.

Gravity fades as our biceps swell. The struggle, toil and hard work; the iron and steel, the sweat and the strain, are released from their frigid barbwire bindings and we are freed to embrace them once again -- to wallow in our training, to bask in our workouts, to blast and bomb it. Bulking up is fun, but I’m gagging, my face is round like a polar bear and my stomach... well, we won’t go there. Let us push that iron.

Nothing like a head start -- fewer weeks slugging it out, more time engaged and inspired -- it’s like free money. Don’t waste it and don’t lose it… or what good is it? Invest it and grow rich. Call me greedy. Let’s crank it up this spring, take advantage of the early high, the rush, and build up unstoppable training momentum.

The change of seasons, the length of the days, the weather, the color of the sky, the temperature -- they are externals that effect our moods, our chemistry, our energy, function and goals, and consequently, our output and achievement. We endured the grey, we persevered through the bleak, we produced under duress, we survived the storm -- imagine what good we will do in the calm and the perfect.

Imagining is important; visualizing and meditating are effective tools in achievement. But nothing replaces action. Researching and study are worthwhile, but nothing beats doing. Planning serves us well, order and timelines, yet without application they are pointless. Routines and programs firmly established assure direction, but we go nowhere without execution.

Action, doing, application and execution are the obvious pathways in metalworking; add intensity and they are the skyway. And the only metal that flies intensely is fighting aircraft – bombers. That’s us: Fighting Bombers.

More and more, as time passes, the fight becomes a battle of effort and might over injury and pain. We have the will, we have the know-how, the gear, the time and the place, but we don’t have the physical freedom or facility. It’s the tender shoulder or elbow or knee and it afflicts young trainers as well as older trainers, though the latter have first rights. Excessive weight or set and rep overload of certain exercises (bench press comes to mind), extended muscle and joint workload without adequate restoration, faulty exercise execution, the performance of inadvisable movements, haste, loss of concentration, improper training schemes, poor nutrition and age round the list of common causes of sky-high flight fights.

Sheesh! I went from the mile-high hopes of spring to spiraling flight-fights in a hundred words or less. Explain yourself, Bomber.... I want to emphasize spring training intensity -- pouring it on like the noonday sun, bounding from sluggish winter slipping and sliding to solid pre-summer performance, establishing an exciting and unstoppable workout momentum to carry us forward, an ongoing workout habit with traction and teeth. And then I recall the most recent influx of questions from IronOnliners have been about injury, pain, exercise limitations, aches, numbness, tendonitis, shortness of breath, imbalance, memory loss, heart murmurs and the inability to chew food. Training intensity, therefore, is reconsidered and this week we will talk about gas, incontinence and the cause of irritating eye twitches.

Do not delete. I’m joking, already. Next week the topic is constipation: its history and origins and when does it become a social issue?

Muscle and joint injury is inevitable. Limitations and disorders need to be identified and isolated, confronted and overcome. They all are associated with wear and tear, time and toil and they disable the mind and emotions as seriously as they attack the muscle and might. Exercise is the ultimate remedy for injury and pain, discouragement and disappointment. Some sicko once said, “Unless you’re unconscious or bleeding profusely, work out.” I guess he should be put away, but they haven’t been able to find him. They say he travels at night with a band of zealots.

Who trains when he has nasty strains and soreness… certain surgeries and broken bones excluded? Usually he is not the obedient patient of a doctor or Mom’s respectful son. He is the willful and determined guy whose face is silently distorted while he warms up ever-so-slowly before he gingerly hoists the metal over his head with a growl. If you missed the act the first time, hang around ‘cuz there it goes again. Yeah. That’s the whack, the one who glows in the shadow of the squat rack. The strangely focused person who wears a wrap around the forearm and does the seated lat row, barbell curl and pullover and so on with personalized grooves -- not wrong, not exactly right, yet very effective and precise.

The wincing and growling, you’ll notice, is not accompanied by moaning and groaning. Complaining negates all progress and healing will never be realized. Asked how he’s doin,’ he’ll say fine. Truth is, it hurts like a beating, but there’s no way except through it. A concoction of time, madness, good nutrition, continued oxygenizing and vitalizing through exercise, thoughtful attention, rest and high hopes make well the wound and the wounded. Drink up.

Who doesn’t train when hurt? That is the question. I’m not sure I’m sure. I mean, I know without a doubt, but...

Is it the wise man, the righteous one, the patient person, the good patient or the quick to recover? Hard to say, isn’t it?

The sane lady and gentleman, stable in their ways or the common man, the ordinary woman, limited in their ways. Who’s who, which is which?

The worrier, not the warrior, that’s my pick. The weak, the lazy, the fearful and the fool -- they don’t confront the steel stacks when pummeled by injury. Nor does the suffering wimp, the least of mankind, the lout, the sluggard or the oaf rush to the lifting platform while throbbing to practice his deadlift.

But wait, bomber. Some say the truly courageous of mankind, the self-confident and secure, the bold and enduring have no need to punish themselves while recovering from damage. They are the heroes. Others declare the incredibly gifted and the enlightened ones smile tranquilly and await healing, the gift of life. Hmmm.

Not. He who avoids the gym floor is the musclebuilder without passion, heart and soul -- forgive them. I say it’s the lifter who ignores the roll of fat forming around his waist as he sleeps, the resting trainer who dwells not on his muscular deterioration, the so-called athlete unruffled by his diminishing cardiovascular conditioning as he idly sits and the unmoving man or woman who can allow stress to paralyze their system. These, the eyewitnesses of personal collapse without repugnance or regret do not make it to the healing waters of the gym floor.

The capricious do not train when they are injured. They do not lift weights when there is pain. It’s a willful act and they are void of the substance, an amalgamation of initiative, responsibility, need and nerve. They might do a set or a rep, but not within sight of discomfort. Whimsy and fancy do not clothe the man of iron, the woman of steel.

And aren’t you glad? It’s will -- resolve -- that leads us to the iron when we hurt. It’s love that has us chase it down the corridors of our life. And it’s not the rusting object so much as it’s our relation with ourselves, others and our surroundings, through it, the hard, cold, uncompromising and non-judgmental defender of our self.

Whatever, bombers, it’s spring at last and not one of us has time to waste. Push that iron, lift that steel, and by God, build that muscle and might.

Clear skies, warm temperatures, tailwind at 20 knots, fuel tanks full and there’s no stopping us now.

Throttle back, let her rip... Draper

PS... The thick-grip Stealth Tri Maker has passed the prestigious and prodigious WGT (World Gym Test) for popularity, usability and effectiveness. We will have it for sale in the weeks to come, details to follow. Also, the 2-inch thick-handle pulldown bar (The Broadwing) is in the works for comfort and mechanical advantages. More to come on this beast of the air later.

Thanks, cool bombers, for your response to our recent curiosity. dd/ld

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