Reality Check
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We've managed to consume 11 months of the year without missing a bite or a beat. That leaves one month to go, which will be consumed like roadkill by a flock of vultures. Thanksgiving is over, kids. Today, it's all about getting.
Black December has arrived.
Our job throughout the next days of hysteria is to stay cool and calm, healthy and fit. Good luck with that. That means no shopping where there's people, no gorging where there's food, no lounging where there's a TV and a recliner, no avoiding the gym, no postponing your training, no skipping a workout, no ducking the iron, no dodging the steel and no taking a layoff.
No booze, no tobacco, no junk food, no cursing, scratching your butt or picking your nose. Why do I have to remind you of these things? C'mon, ladies... guys... look sharp.
Picture this, bombers: It's Christmas morning and hanging from the mantle over a flickering fireplace are carefully hung stockings bursting with tubs of delicious, musclebuilding protein powder. This is what the season is all about. Or, one might say, ‘This what the season is all about?'
Under the tree, amid the traditional set of chugging Lionel trains, there's a barbell loaded with plates... toot toot ... clank, clank.
Everyone is tearing open their gifts -- plaid flannel shirts, ties and jockey shorts flying everywhere -- and you're thinking, "Gotta get my hands on that bar, man."
The daydream continues as the kids stuff themselves with cookies and milk and the adults get gooey on Gallo. "Happy New Year, man. I love ya." That little outburst from Uncle Louie has been going around for 'bout an hour. Won't be long before you can move some iron and get loaded on your own.
The first exercise would be -- are you ready for it -- the bench press. Let's face it: Though it is a widely known fact the ill-conceived BP (bench press, not British Petroleum) is murder on the shoulders, it's the musclehead's most popular, most performed, most seductive, most competitive and most notorious movement. Push, push, push... one more rep... you can do this... snap, crack, pop... Poop!
Ice?
Standing barbell curls are next on the list. "Why? Did you ask why?" Because they're so adorable. You bend over, grab the bar just right and stand up with vigor and certainty, staring as if your eyes are caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. Breathe deeply, pull the bar to the chest, lower and repeat till the pain is excruciating. Hellooo.
Intensity. Determination. Commitment. Shock. Form comes with practice, muscle follows form, practice makes perfect. You want to get six to eight reps before the speeding car is upon you. Always thinking.
Which reminds me: I've got an idea. Combine close-grip bench presses with standing barbell curls. Call them supersets. Save time and money (like a half-off day at Wal-Mart); get bigger, faster, stronger and enjoy the engagement and aerobic flow. Pumping, burning, growing, glowing. Close grips get the shoulders, chest and triceps and the headlights-in-the-eye curls build big biceps while empowering the back and torso. Even the butt and thighs get in on that act.
Gripping!
Did you notice the grand feeling you experienced when you bent over, grasped the Olympic bar and stood upright in preparation for the curls? Big yes! Well, imagine doing that very movement repeatedly with a more substantial and fulfilling weight. You'll get pins and needles all over, cheeks flush and lips eagerly forced into a grin. Deadlifts -- pure exhilaration.
Well-performed deadlifts take the entire body to new levels of muscle thickness, power, involvement and gratification. A loaded bar, silent and still, resting before you is a formidable challenge. Eerie, it appears to move into blackness as you bend and reach for its harsh knurl.
Teasing tugs are applied by both the bar and you. The critical position is assumed and sound is sucked from the air. Power is released and the bar and its clanging adornments rise like vapors from a blazing fire.
And you don't drop it once it meets its height. You put the burning mess down where it belongs and walk away.
Deadlifts are hot. Deadlifts are deadly. Deadlifts are fun.
Something's missing. What? Tinsel? No. Mistletoe? No. Laughter, smiley faces, good cheer? No, no, no.
Squats are missing. What's Christmas morning without squats? Not enough room, you say? Shove the tree into the corner, drag Uncle Louie into the closet, stack the presents on top of him and get that train set -- caboose and all -- outta the way. Space... We need space.
Reality check: There are 28 days till December 25th. Never mind. All we want for Christmas is a kettlebell.
God's peace.
dd
*****
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