Muscles and Might -- Live and Learn
We haven’t been married 19 years and already Laree wants to decorate the house. It’s that time of year when folks feel obligated to make changes -- get rid of the old and bring in the new. The dear lady wants to take down the rockin’ ‘60s posters (Hendrix, Cream, Stones) and sports banners (Go Raiders) and hang smartly framed oils and watercolors in their places. She said something about repairing the cracks and painting the walls. Yeah, right! Just like I’m going to drag the dismantled ’51 Ford coupe and copious car parts from the front yard and plant a lawn in its place.
“Let’s move the mattress from the living room floor to the bedroom where it belongs,” she says, as if there was space. The bedroom functions as a closet, storeroom and office, none of which we have as of yet.
The refrigerator sounds like a cement-mixer; the couch sags, the 12-inch black and white TV picture is fuzzy and the outhouse is backing up. These are the comments I hear throughout the day. I hope this girl thing is short-lived and we can get on with our lives.
Of course, as you well know, needless to say and without further comment, Laree never complains about anything. A songbird is she, a soaring eagle, my little parakeet. Our house has a bed in the bedroom and a picture on the wall, hot and cold running water. In presenting this week’s words of wisdom, humor and inspiration -- he’s feverish and confused, doctor -- I was simply constructing a metaphor you could relate to.
Some people I know are similarly disgruntled about their training. Forever complaining, never satisfied, they blame their discontent on everything but themselves -- the weights, the equipment, the atmosphere, training methods and parking. They go on to say change will do us good. As always, they’re not entirely wrong, and they’re not exactly right. Our training satisfaction and dissatisfaction is based on many things, not just one, two or a few. Change can be over-rated.
Remember the Old Dutch adage: He complained about the size of his boots till he had no boots. He complained about the size of his feet till he had no feet. He complained about his complaints till he had no complaints. They buried him by the riverside. May he rest in peace. To this day he wishes they buried him under the old oak tree.
The essentials must be recognized and organized, understood and applied. They must be acknowledged, practiced, established:
- Environment is important... quality of equipment, convenience of the gym, atmosphere, attitude, circulation of air, cleanliness, order and odor.
- The workout -- exercises, their arrangement and their performance -- is the nucleus, the center, the indispensable factor.
- Nutrition is fundamental... quantity and excellence of energy- and muscle-building foods.
- Rest is elementary... sufficiency and quality of sleep and periods of recuperation.
- Mental acuity is integral... ability to focus and deal with stress and distraction.
- Commonsense is priceless... logic, instinct and the ability to discern worthy input from the useless.
- Creativity can’t be bought, the ability to invent, improvise, fashion and finesse.
- And spirit is invaluable, the place where heart, desire and force combine.
The list, like New York City, is neither long nor wide, but it is deep, lofty and overflowing. Keep it in order and attend it well and we too will be giants.
I expect we’ll agree that our complaints and grumblings are relative. Some of you remember the great workouts you had in your garage, backyard or basement, or the boiler room at the Y, where the equipment looked like projects-gone-wrong in high school shop class. The weights were loose and rusty and chewed on your hands, the boards for benches had splinters and nails in secret places, and no one in his right mind stood next to the multi-exercise squat rack device, the one in the corner that rocked and rattled when the wind blew or someone slammed the door.
We moaned. But never were the workouts better, more fulfilling, exciting and productive. We knew what we were doing, where we were going and why, and it all had to do with muscles and strength and being cool (hi, girls). That was then, the good old days, before we were told how it is, where it is and why... by Them, whoever they are. The older we get and the more we learn, the dumber and less happy we become.
Here’s where and when our grievances began: We decided to make muscle- and strength-building easier, more convenient, less basic, more complex, higher, wider, longer, deeper and more ridiculous than ever. We decided to make big bucks on a burgeoning industry. Goodbye, muscle and might. Hello trouble -- disillusion, fiction, make-believe, exaggeration, magic and little white lies.
Now, 10, 20, 30 years later, there’s a gym next to every Starbucks. We have gyms putting other gyms out of business, and people scrambling to join. The scramble stops at the gym floor and is reduced to a cruise on a stationary bike before a plasma TV. Muscles are developed, manufactured, exaggerated, created, implanted, purchased and sold. I’ll have a pair of those lumps in large... ummm, make that extra large, thank you.
I’ve lamented before: Neighborhood gyms, like tigers, are an endangered species. They’re lean, raw, muscular and quick. The tiger is no bull. You enter unguarded doors, wrestle dumbbells on rugged benches, lift barbells off rugged racks and tug on cables from rugged pulleys. You toil, you groan, you leave. You’ve gotta love it. There’s no money in the gym biz, unless you’re lucky, blessed or dishonest.
You can watch any one of countless infomercials on the tube all day long, hawking gadgets that reduce the hips, bulges and flab and increase the breasts, biceps and sex appeal. These things fold into slim slabs no bigger than a laptop and weigh less than a cell phone or pack of Marlboros. I’m exaggerating, but so are they. They work. I’m lying, but so are they.
A loopy and flimsy machine that swings like a hammock under the shapely buttocks of Maxine or rock-hard abs of Mack performs wonders till Louie and Betty Bonzo mount its deadly aluminum frame. The gadget quivers and Betty shivers, the unit quakes and Louie shakes. Time passes and the Trim-all crashes.
Some of the design styles of equipment advertised are functional and worthy and bring health and exercise into the home, should they be activated and not slid under the bed, sold at the flea market or donated to the church rec facility. And these no doubt add to the closing of a few of the gyms along the boulevards. Got my own at home, thanks.
Home gyms work for the already invested lifter, the private, yet motivated and disciplined type, the quick responder, the hobby-bobby trainee and the severely guilty, self-punishing type. They find refuge in their little sanctuary, apply themselves regularly and good things happen. They often eat right because right eating is the perfect companion of systematic exercise and the pursuit of health. They confront themselves on the ground floor of life and together take the express elevator up. The company is likable, the conversation is fine and there’s no rush. Nice day, how ya doin'? Penthouse, please.
Needless to say, the ardent home trainees, those predating the gismo age, actually train under the iron and steel and rack and stack. They fly, they soar, they roar. Incoming, 11 o’clock. They bench, deadlift and squat.
It’s been a good day. You parked eventually, signed in dutifully, nodded automatically and proceeded past the front counter routinely. The gym floor awaits your presence patiently. What will you do today?
Curls, presses, taxi, fly, land -- whatever you do, do it enthusiastically.
Godspeed... The BomberREADY, GET SET, GO
First of all, your body is fully fortified, right? No matter what time of day it is, when your workout is before you, you should be amply supplied with vitamins and minerals and protein, fats and carbohydrates. You know by now to unfailingly fuel yourself prior to and soon after your workout for maximum training effect -- cellular energy and endurance, gratifying muscle response, hormonal health and muscle recovery. These enrichments result in mood augmentation, enhanced vigor and confidence, maximized tenacity and spirit and sharpness of mind and creativity. I won’t get into longevity, bone density, quality of life, the immune system...
We acquire a ton of equipment, commandeer half the garage and park the car in the driveway, or we buy a platinum membership at The Club, drive across town, park somewhere, anywhere and sweat, strain and tear up our joints, all in the name of health and strength. And, then, we proceed to feed ourselves like junkyard dogs -- cheap protein and two-for-one vita-paks from Wal-Mart. Crazy, man!
Bodybuilders are like little kids (hi, Ma!), you’ve got to remind them to tie their shoelaces, flush, zip, button and stuff like that -- the obvious. That’s why I advise a vitamin fortification and a protein shake before and after each and every workout.
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