Tough Times Need Tough Measures

Time is no respecter of urgency or calm. It moves above it all at it's own fleeting uninterrupted clip. A man may say, briskly rubbing his hands together, that the year has just begun. Another, with a sigh of resignation, will comment that, already, January is half gone.

Where are you in this early beholding of our fussed over New Year? Is it entirely ludicrous to consider that we, you and I, largely determine time's pace, its fullness and lack thereof. Each of us with our God-given physical, mental, spiritual faculties, our perception, enthusiasm and energy apply ourselves to the moment. Essentially, there is nothing else. We seek our goals — our hopes and dreams — like heat sensing missiles; seeking mechanisms which require continuous information, monitoring and maintenance or they lose sight of their target, wander and fail to make contact... they waiver, bump into high flying pigeons and fall to the ground, a disappointing and embarrassing mess.

Missiles gone astray: slumps, wandering motivation, common boredom, the blues, the "who cares?" and ennui come upon us like a thief in the night. Beware, be alert, but fear not. They rob only the weak and weary, not the courageous and strong of heart. You may stumble, but you won't fall. If you do, together we'll pick you up again.

Count on it. Eventually, each of us on dd.com find ourself staring off into a corner on the verge of guilt, groping for a plausible excuse not to go to the gym. This is a very dangerous limbo, and you hate the trial you are about to endure. Somehow you dropped your guard and have allowed the sweet seductive charm of not working out to be an option.

As if giving up, declaring defeat, ceasing to breathe, not buttoning one's pants were an option. You know what happens if you submit once? Oddly, kids know and they won't sit on your lap. You grow fangs. Dogs stop fetching the balls you toss. Discipline, character and inner strength erode; the waist goes up, the chest comes down. You're doomed. I've seen it happen to the best of 'em. I have no reason to lie to you, Bombers.

I enjoy and prosper from training of all description and style, providing it is intense (not punishing, break-elbow extreme or cliff-jump mindless) and providing it is accurately scheduled. My workouts are composed of supersets (80%) and single sets (20%). Occasionally, a superset becomes a triset because of an urge and an abundance of energy and drive. Rarely do I prepare and perform giant sets. I view them as roving and disconnected, scattered and unpacked. Five sets off in different directions to accommodate a loose athletic training scheme and distract oneself from bloodletting — cute, but not for me. No might, no thunder, no fission.

Yesterday, late morning with good order established in the gym, I ambled across the main floor looking for a suitable place to light. I unloaded my gear (belt, wrist wraps, water) and reviewed my workout possibilities. I mostly know what I'm going to do each day but last minute assessments need always be made. "How do I feel right now?" is the question I ask that needs to be answered based on a long list of variables: what and how hard did I train yesterday, what do I train tomorrow, how about muscle recuperation and injury, consider sleep, food intake, mood, stress, gym activity and attitude, weather, dripping water in the men's locker room. These and innumerable other factors are calculated at the lightening speed of instinct and stored knowledge. I wait. Options to surface momentarily.

While waiting for the profound nudge from my inner workings, I noticed I was standing on my toes, my back was rigid, both arms stiff and my fingers, all ten, were extended like prongs. There was a ringing in my ear and my eyes, highly focused, stopped blinking. Minor tension, I guessed. Feeling conspicuous, I sat down and began to relax by counting backward from 100 and thinking of seagulls and oceans at low tide, a trick I learned from my old friend Frank Zane.

This was no time for ordinary crunches and leg raises. It was going to be one of those days of special needs. What am I doing here? Go home. Take the day off. You're seeing spots, very interesting but pathetic. You're fading. Tough times need tough measures. You even think of leaving and I'll break your pinkies, dude.

Spontaneously, I engineered a routine to match my mood, my senses and my propensity for hard and intense work. It was arm day and I was fully fueled. I forged ahead with a giant set - a giant set? My, my — possessing the density of plutonium — PU-239 (Bomber Talk). The formula as I recall was 8 giant sets of 10 reps for each of 5 movements in 35 luxurious minutes.

Wrist Curls (barbell)
Reverse Wrist Curls (barbell)
Machine Dips
Thumbs Up Curls
Pulley Pushdowns

Nonstop, no race, moderate weight with ascending poundages, super form — a system of packed exercises bringing the whole upper body into related action. No exercise done without a clear sense of its relationship to the whole upper torso, not just the isolated, targeted muscle.

Dips hit tris and an assortment of pec, delt and back parts not necessarily hit during their respective workouts. Subtle muscle network connections are accented and conditioned to make the "parts" a tough, functioning "whole." A staunch workhorse, a slick Thoroughbred.

Pushdowns with an elongated range of motion and essential body thrust bring in serratus, torso stabilizers, minor pec bits (Muscle Beach vernacular circa '60) and upper back.

Dumbbell curls need heavy erector support. Watch the delts and traps work if you want them to as you use some healthy thrust to accommodate some heavy weight. No volume — no veins, no muscularity, no muscle endurance. Blast it. Eat, sleep, grow. (My mom calls me "Davey.")

I followed the Colossal Giants x 8 with the standing Oly barbell curl and lying bent bar tricep extension Grand Superset x 8.

Barbell Curl, 8 sets x 6 reps, supersetted with
Lying Tricep Extension, 8 sets x 10 reps

Same back and forth rhythm featured, same mad pump. Note to the innocent: Don't give pause or doubt or limbo any ground to take root. Pluck them from the soil and feed them to the fire.

I don't know if pump is necessary for or a sign of tissue anabolism but it picked me up and carried me forward like a stormy tailwind, a 30 foot wave. Anything that provides intensity in a workout and lures you back for more and more has got to build muscles. How that works in lab rats, who cares? Workout plus pump = super swell.

Thirty minutes later, after a gorilla protein drink, Ryan, my broad-shouldered partner and I were up on the World Gym roof cleaning out the gutters so the glorious fresh California rain that soaked our bodies didn't flood the roof and flow through the skylights onto the cool gym below. YAHOO.

TOUGH TIMES NEED TOUGH MEASURES