final days of the year I liken to the blast off of a great rocket
ship. The launch pad is busy, near frantic in some corridors with
final preparations, last minute adjustments, checks and double
checks. There's no turning back never is and all
systems are "go." The tense countdown commences mechanically as
2001 stretches out its dispassionate receiving hand. "Merry Christmas,"
someone offers to preoccupied passersby, the mood changes and
comfortable loveseats are gathered while abundant treats and eggnog
task as an observer is to detect any deficiency in the performance
of the contributing workforce, the committed leaders who have
struggled hard, overcome critical obstacles and endured for long
months to assure a noble mission's grand success. Focus and stability,
should they falter in these last days, will unravel bindings,
loosen solid groundwork and frustrate bold efforts whose achievement
cost much. They will disappoint the milk-fed new recruits who
honor them and seek their direction.
must not miss their designated workouts nor can they eat like
barbarians till the year's end. I will accost them; it's my job.
I will needle them, threaten and belittle them, expose, embarrass
and generally harass them... er... no, no, no... wrong approach,
wrong thinking. I will encourage them, engage and inspire them,
persuade and coax them, positively suggest and remind them. Ah,
so much better. But how? This I must give some thought.
think of the sack of homemade cookies and chocolate that collects
on our counter at the gym brought by caring members to make our
holidays bright. Gently I move the colorful heap to one side and
replace it with my microwave-reheated hamburger patty and baked
potato snuggled on a paper plate decorated with clowns, balloons
and streamers. Party time. The burger's cold in the middle. Love
it. Celery stalks and red bell pepper provide my veggie requirements
and not having maintained my fluid intake I chase the meal with
bottled water. Is that tuna floating around on the bottom from
my previous one o'clock feeding? I scribble calculations on a
paper towel and discover I'm still short about 87 grams of protein.
I'll blast another Bomber Blend... that'll do it, and I could
use the calories. After a handful of aminos and some vitamins
and MSM, I'll plan my workout.
my right hand man, and Ryan, my left, carefully pick through the
holiday bounty sampling this and that with great delight and no
guilt. They're kids, really, but they should know better. I flex,
set my jaw and stomp over to this bizarre scene. Chocolate-coated
toffee covers Brett's impish face as he says, "I love Christmas
and New Year's. It's the only time I feel like a kid. Big D, you
gotta try this stuff Rachel made."
right on. You've gotta try this stuff Rachel made. Merry Christmas,
dear Bombers of all ages. Let the bombs fly.
Bless You... Big D
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