Heavy Mid-Season Christmas Message

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This may come as a disappointment, but I’ve decided not to disclose my latest scientific discovery on building lean, powerful and stunning muscle at this time. I suspect you’re taking a five-minute pause amid your daily tasks to give your mind a rest. Who needs the muscle building breakthrough of the century to overload your thinking processes? Let’s cruise instead.

Not exactly! I’m not good at cruising... kicking back or taking it easy. Relaxing to me is sitting on the edge of the couch ready to get up and go somewhere or do something. I might never get around to it, but, hey, I’m ready. I’m waiting for the signal, the bell, the crack of the gun, the urgent echo over the loud speakers, “and they’re off!” It’s exhausting!

So, help me here, Bomber... a little conversation to ease the tension. What’s up?

Yeah, I know -- the all-to-familiar greeting, the salutation with a question asking nothing, an effort beyond a silent nod with no expectation whatsoever of a response. Let’s correct that inaccurate assumption. That apparently aimless phrase, my dear friend, was possibly the most important, in-depth inquiry you’ll receive all week. Two words and I want your life story... your aspirations, your achievements, your disappointments, your confessions... I’m listening, I’m all ears, I care.

We may be cruisin,’ but we’re not snoozin’!

I’ll be more precise: Considering we’re in the middle of the most dazzling month of the year, the last one before the New Year, and the one bearing the most celebrated gift-giving holiday; the same month of eating and drinking, parties and merriment, shopping and wrapping, ribbons and bows (I have a headache), how goes your training and your diet, your strength and health?

True, life is not about us, it’s not about you, it’s not about me. It’s about far more than we can imagine. But, in today’s world (of bombs, booms, bumps, bruises, bashes, boinks, beatings and bewilderment) we’ve got to take good care of ourselves. Nobody else is. That’s not pathetic selfishness; that’s responsibility, that’s pragmatism, that’s communal respect -- our personal right and privilege and contribution. Strength training and smart eating come first, then we can provide generously for those around us -- with physical, mental and spiritual power.

And all along you thought it was about 18-inch arms and a trim waist, ample cleavage and a cute bottom. Live and learn, grow and know, show and tell.

So... again... wazup? When’s the last time you hit the iron? Have you been eating too much, too little, the wrong foods, at the wrong times? How’s the bodyweight, the muscle tone, the energy, the disposition? You taking your supplements, drinking plenty of water? Yes, I’m grilling you. We’re gonna get to the bottom of this one way or the other. Let’s talk about your bench press. Has it gone up or down lately?

Will you swear to that? Are you willing to submit to a polygraph? Anything you say will be held against you. No, you can’t make a phone call...

You’re distracted, you’re unmotivated, you’re sluggish and you’re going down.

I can be tough when I have to. I’m not looking for answers, Buster; I’m trying to arouse your year-end training. When I said let’s cruise, I didn’t suggest we go into a trance, a mindless stupor... no drooling.

Confession... I almost skipped my workout today. I felt irritated, aggravated, annoyed and depressed, and in spite of my high spirits, the idea of lifting weights amid the joyous season seemed grim. To overcome the urge to duck my training, I did as I always do: I considered how miserable and discouraged I’d be if I did.

Works every time. I’m a coward.

I can’t handle the guilt, the ensuing doubt, the all-consuming fear. It’s not that I’m unstable, insecure or one dimensional. Heck, no! On the contrary, I, as you, am disciplined and committed and highly motivated. I’m a whiner… um… ‘scuz me… that would be, I’m a winner. Can you identify with what I’m saying, iron worshipers?

Have you ever wondered to whom the TV is talking? The daily news hour offers tidbits of advice and caution about mankind’s health, eating habits and exercise and lack thereof. Close-up and personal videos of hefty buttocks lumbering along city streets and sitting in cafes are looped as an announcer comments about a growing epidemic across our proud nation (that would be any proud nation). “Obesity is a leading cause of disease and mortality. Be responsible!”

Smokers stand in clusters in designated spaces outside tall buildings, unwinding, as they light up and inhale deeply... nervously, angrily, resignedly and repeatedly. Their fingertips are stained, their faces are grey and their lungs are black. “Smoking Kills” is the ominous message in grim, bleary print oozing across the black and white screen.

Then there’s the empty lot, or the underside of a bridge where a shabby collection of homeless cling to brown paper bags containing sustenance and memories, hope and hopelessness. “Say no to drugs and alcohol,” says a small, shivering child near a drum of warming fire, an urgent plea to lost family and loved ones.

We might be making headway. These messages take time, increased passion, constant repetition, variation in approach, continued pain and penalty, more loss, further desperation... before we hear, before we heed, before we reverse the devastating trend. I have hope. It’s Christmas.

We can’t mandate change in my hometown, the USA. As a bright democracy, we’re free to destroy ourselves... any way we please. However, we can encourage personal responsibility. Just think of the savings in lives, suffering, hospital costs and insurance, individual capability and function. How about the decrease in broken families and welfare, and the reduction of crimes and costs in the criminal system, from policing to courts to prison?

Lift weights and be strong!

Taxes would go down and we’d be safer and richer. We could pay off our credit cards. Buy a gym membership... fresh fruit, protein powder -- Bomber Blend, of course; it’s the best in the world.

Eat right and be happy!

We’d have more time, means and purpose on our hands and less stress, less disadvantage and less distraction on our backs. We could work out when we should without hurry or pressure, and membership paid in full. We could bring a friend and give away free T-shirts with a message of truth.

“Bombers are Beautiful.”

That might be going a little too far, the bomber thing not exactly clear as of yet. How about:

“Train hard -- Live Long”?

We’ll think of something, now that we’re breathing the same air and drinking the same water (hic... gasp... gurgle):

Iron Rules...
Steel -- The Real Deal...
Muscles before Money...
Might before Michelob...
Dumbbells, Not Dope...
Lean Mean Lifting Machine...
Bench Press for Peace...

Get this. There’s actually a candidate for president trotting about America’s countryside reminding us of these rights and responsibilities and suggests he’ll actively pursue the positive message as part of his platform. I think he’s serious.

Who knows? It’s never been tried before. Stuff like this can stop wars, soften hearts, broaden our awareness and contribute to a caring nature... Could favorably affect the climate, save energy and allow devoted access to muscle and might, strength and health and trim waists and athletic figures.

Tis the season to be jolly... hopeful... thankful...

Go... God’s heights... DD

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