Muscles and Power, Food Supplements and Diet
Training Till Your Eyes Bulge and More
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Babbling and rambling serve a worthwhile purpose in our daily performance. I babble to myself while alone and attending mindless activities. I become a faintly vocal partner with myself and I resolve imperceptible issues before me. There I am putting the dishes away and acting like a dummy speaking non-sentences and singing non-tunes. I feel embarrassed admitting this to my Bomb Crew, but we all do it.
Go shopping and there you witness a population of miniature conversations all at once, especially in the supermarket. You’re standing in an aisle checking out plungers in the hardware department and some guy comes alongside you holding a small bolt in front of squinting eyes saying almost inaudibly, “Got my bolts, all I need now is my nuts... where’s my nuts... gotta be here somewhere.” Then, while appraising the tomatoes over in produce, a lady in a pantsuit and heels searching for a melon of the right size, color and consistency tweaks each fruity globe within reach muttering, “Wha, 89 cents a pound for bowling balls... these suckers won’t be ripe till Labor Day.”
Babbling helps us sort out our lives; it’s intelligent, it’s easy and almost irresistible; it’s original, spontaneous, and highly personal.
Rambling is babbling evolved, or developed, and may be affectionately shared with friends. Many popular authors ramble in memoirs to inform, instruct and entertain the simple reader. I ramble cuz I can’t write when its 95 degrees on the deck and I must present a newsletter to an impatient and unforgiving editor.
One
day I shall retire and learn to read.
Babbling and rambling are not to be confused with blabbing. Blabbing is uncouth.
Bombers do not blab. No Blabbing Allowed. That understood, let us continue.
I
contemplate the congestion of bottles and
jugs aligning my kitchen counter and wonder
if I should expand the kitchen to accommodate
the gathering containers, or shall I judiciously reduce the variety
and quantity of ingredients I ingest to make me... what?... big,
strong, muscular, lean, energetic, injury-resistant, quick-recovering,
lucid? Ha. If the nutrients to improve my lucidness were working,
certainly I would eliminate 90 percent of the capsules, pills and
powders and their promises from my sight. Take fewer concoctions
and maybe I wouldn’t
be considering the best tonic to solve
my indigestion... forget the space problem.
When I met Laree she was taking an occasional
aspirin. How gauche! I was a basic Super
Spectrim Vitamin Mineral original and completely
satisfied, rich some would say. We opened
a gym or two and entered the modern-day
muscle-building zone, a chaotic and crazed
territory of muscle and power magazines,
inter-netting, expos, pro contests, marketeers
and sky-high hopes. As smart as we are,
I dare say brilliant -- right, Laree? --
we became enthralled with “the stuff.” It’s
various, everywhere and in abundance. You can’t fool us, but I’m
told by sharp people in the know that this herb promotes sound sleep, that
metabolite can reduce inflammation and a teaspoon of these oils improves heart
function. Try it and see the difference. Six of these caps immediately before
a workout and you are training on timely released GH. Zoom.
Of course we are not stupid and vigorously disbelieve that any one of the 100,000 advertisements for Rocket-fuel thermo drinks, Get-ripped formulas, Huge-in-a-minute powders endorsed by seven of the top ten Olympia champions, really works. Get real. However, seriously though, have you tried Dave Draper’s Bomber Blend? It really, really works!!! And now for my next trick, I will pull a bunny out of a hat. Oops. That’s not a bunny, that’s some guy’s head.
The time has come. There’s no spare countertop space to sear a skirt steak on my Foreman Grill. Emergency situations call for emergency measures. First I will go through the bottles and jars of junk Laree takes. Hmmm... Let’s see: Amino Balance, MSM, glucosamine and chondroitin, Super Spectrim vitamins and minerals, EFAs, creatine, Bomber Blend. It’s the exact same stuff I take, which means she’s astute in her determination of what is important to add to an already sterling dietary plan. The girl is amazing, cute, too. Maybe we can consolidate -- put them together in one big serving bowl and pull out what we need as we need it, family style. Homey, but there’s a powder in the assortment and we’ll have a dusty mess on our hands. We could always throw the entire collection of supplements in the blender, pulverize it and serve it by the tablespoon. This solution has merit, though the caps of fishy EFAs will make a paste of undesirable texture, taste and odor. I can handle it, but the adorable webmaster would paste a 45-pound plate against my head. Back to the drawing board.
The thought of eating out occurs to me. Besides the unlikely KFC, Taco Bell, pizza parlors of every description and enough Chinese to feed Manchuria, there’s a range-fed-beef burger joint and a greasy spoon with righteous food at the bottom of our hill. The latter two are escapes for Team Draper when one more can of tuna or another rare skirt steak will not mount the fork and go down the chute and into the belly. Alas, only a temporary fix anyway. Be creative.
Some
folks don’t add a thing to their menu and life goes on, bumpity
bump. Others add the health food store and nothing seems to improve.
I believe we who are working hard to build our muscle, strength
and fitness require sound eating habits and substantial nutritional
extras. Big demands, big needs. This doesn’t mean perfect
eating or adding every nutrient we suspect
offers a health advantage. The kitchen
counters and the dining room table plus
the workbench in the garage will not provide enough space to stockpile
the recommended provisions.
Upon further consideration, the lean supply
of additional foodstuff Laree and I ingest
is ample; not too much, not too little,
just right. It’s a talent
deciding exactly what to take without causing confusion, bankruptcy and indigestion.
Eventual
solution to original problem: We now practice Zen and the Art of
Storing, Stacking and Balancing Foods Supplements Containers, one
more fascinating discipline of building muscle and might.
So much for vitamins B, C and E, their importance and nuisance factor, and
onto training, its importance and nuisance factor. Babbling and artless rambling
continue on and on ...
Here’s breaking news -- I pummeled myself yesterday. The gym was just right: warm, bright, sufficiently populated (6-8 ironheads), tons of time, agreeable music, Friday attitude, personal mood even and carefree, and I was fed and hydrated. Wraps on, wraps off, I moved slowly, and pushed past the pain. I wasn’t strong; I would not even -- no way -- consider a single in the squat or deadlift, nor would I confront heavy farmer walks, but I had curious willpower and a one-more-rep desire. The last two qualities will make you or break you; they were my downfall. Determination, AKA muscle madness, made up for lacking muscle power. The warmth necessitated slower movement throughout the exercise and throughout the workout, a perfect setting for concentration, and the pre-requisite to one-more-rep fortitude -- focus, breath and another, focus, breath and another.
The routine was not a killer:
Incline leg-raise, hanging leg-raise, thick-bar deadlift -- five tri-sets x 30, 16, 12
Bent-over barbell rows: six x 6-8
Press behind neck, Pulldown behind neck -- five supersets x 6, 10-12
Cable crossovers, rear delt lateral -- five supersets x 8-10
Swinging front laterals -- five sets x 12
It was the demand I put on myself through the intentional forced reps that did me in.
I enjoy this routine when I’m sensible. I enjoy the routine when I’m not sensible. I must learn to distinguish between the two. This takes time and practice; I’m working on it.
The midsection work is fatiguing because the reps are high; the hanging strains the upper body and the deadlifts, though light, are thigh-pumping tasks.
The barbell rows engage the entire back and considerable sections of the quad, glute and hamstring muscles. The lungs and heart muscles are compromised by the bent-over position and the pressure in the ribcage swells with each rep. I particularly challenged my capacity here, allowing the bar to hang -- to settle -- with each successive rep to assure freedom from wrist pain and to locate the most muscle-involving action. This presents the most benefit from the work and that peculiar exhilaration lifters enjoy. Each rep prompted another till the weight dropped from my hands. This is sort of like pushing the horse another lap after he’s already won. Win the race, kill the horse. Dumb.
Press-behind-necks are an exercise I enjoy despite the light weight I am forced to use. And they are not the most injury-free exercise on the list, either. Funny how I ignore the embarrassing light weight and the threat the movement presents to the joints. Probably cuz it’s a light weight, I don’t need to worry about extensive injury, much of which has already been accomplished. (You’ll note denial is active, also.) The trick to make light weights effective is to strain till your eyes bulge to gain maximum muscle intensity. I replace the bar like a wounded cowboy returning his six-gun clumsily to its holster; I stagger and wince, and head bravely for the cable machine for my behind-the-neck pulldowns. These I perform by replicating a champion on stage under the lights exhibiting his back muscles before a wild audience -- arms extended overhead and then down into a tight contraction, over and over again as the muscles pump and they cheer for more. I release the bar, slide off the machine momentarily paralyzed. Great superset, four more to go. Yes!
Cable crossovers most directly activate the pec muscles and promise shape and definition to the area. First they burn and then they smolder. The rear delts are under-worked and appreciate the generous, thrusting attention. The back-and-forth superset is a complementary combination permitting continual movement and a resultant exercise momentum and fierce fiery fatigue. Give me five, brothers and sisters.
I was done, my two hours -- plus 15 minutes due to heat and snailing -- were up. The place was empty and the traffic was building up on the beach highways, Friday in the middle of July in Santa Cruz, California. I was about to leave when I got an urge, a mix of guilt (very slow performance, not enough sets), stupidity and the silly desire to finalize my shoulder work with those cute swinging things.
Swinging forward lateral raises, discovered to accommodate my resistant deltoid muscles, were introduced only weeks ago. Doth thou recallest? I promised an update on this exercise resembling a wild, flying amusement park ride. It’s fun, it works and will knock your socks off. I completed five sets during which time I mixed and drank my Bomber Blend special: 4 scoops of vanilla BB and 20 ounces of ice water. I’d swing and drink, swing and drink. It is from such displays as this that I have acquired my reputation as a wild and crazy, swinging and drinking guy.
I was wrong, Captain, but I couldn’t stop. Now my wings are hanging like feather dusters, my tail is in a spin and the ole’ fuselage is swollen, stinging, buzzing and grounded... let’s make that buried. Laree said, “I told you so,” and refuses to spoon-feed me. The sore soar poorly.
God’s wisdom... DD
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