Pressing On

German bodybuilding magazine Draper

Download the full Draper here newsletter
in printable, live-link, pdf format, here.

“How do you do it, DD?” my colleagues ask. “How do you continue to expand your operations in a bleak and hostile business climate?”

They’re stunned. I understand. I get right to the point.

It’s a tough slog being the creative force and CEO of several major corporations -- Draper Long Johns, Socks and Jocks, Inc., Bombs Away Diaper Service and Dave ‘R’ Us Smarty Party Clowns, yet I remain closely connected with my people through eco-friendly email.

“But that’s not all, gentlemen. That’s not enough.”

I close my solar-powered greenmails with the casual expression “press on,” and often, taking my chances, I add Godspeed. It’s my genuine, yet unobtrusive attempt to identify with and relate to my gracious recipients. Press on covers it. It is all we can do. Some days it’s a shove, other days it’s push and then there are the days we thrust, heave and toss... even pull.

Yeah, now you’ve got it. We press on, brothers and sisters, with muscle and might and good cheer.

We’re a motley crew, yet working out is deeply rooted in our being. It’s what we do so everything else we do, we do better... and feel better about it. And there it begins.

The gym is much more than a place housing the tools of our exercise activities. It’s an assembly line, a forge, a refuge, an emergency room and a ballroom; the place downtown or under our house where we build the body, mind and soul; where we play, we suffer and rejoice. We press on.

The weightlifting tools, the bars, dumbbells and plates -- the iron -- are far beyond the heavy forms of resistance they present to our muscles. They are protagonists and antagonists that push and pull, and clumsy toys too big for children’s hands. They are the source, the center, the heart of the grand challenge with which we struggle, and without which we fail.

And the subject of our training is not limited to baseball bis and horseshoe tris.
Seriously. Like, did we forget Stealth-wing lats and cannonball delts? The weights and the weight room present a library of universal teaching and development. Corners of the mind and levels of the soul are stimulated and strengthened. Skills, gifts and talents are revealed and released. And ugly is disposed of like mold, dust and webs.

The weights might not make you a doctor, carpenter, pilot or nurse, but they will make you a better one.

And no matter how basic and simple our training is, it is quite complex. Complex doesn’t make it complicated, bombers, as long as we press on. Stop pressing on and we have complicated. Trust me; you don’t want to go there. Pressing on might not save us, but it prevents us from falling into the pit. And the pit is a very bad place.

How to proceed from here, we wonder, on mornings when the sun is already setting in the west? Hmmm...

Follow the trail, blaze a new path or sit on a stump in the shade and muse. The stump thing works for a little while, till the sun goes down or the dark clouds move in or you get ants in your pants. And following the trail is a fair choice, moving along swiftly and comfortably by the well-trodden lead of those before you.

We press on, water bottle in hand, till one day the trail narrows, grows thin and fades, or thickens and becomes a tangle. Where are we? Not the end, but not a clear passage for the lethargic and uninspired.

The rest of the way is left to the trailblazers. That’s us, Dick and Jane, Bubba and Babs. Bombers are also trailblazers. You might note authentic bombers have been referred to as explorers, pioneers, inventors, brave souls, Vikings, chieftains, disciplined soldiers, cuddly heroines, shepherd, animal lovers, fairly smart, or, at least, not dumb, poverty stricken and just plain cool.

I’m off to the gym in about two hours, enough time to knock out a few words to faithful and robust sky-riders from here to the moon (the communication always provides energy and encouragement) and gather my implements, attitude and plans for some rough trailblazing. My subconscious is already conspiring with my conscious, an awesome duo, to pull off the deed. I have handy remote-control cameras recording both.

Implements -- basic fuel and gear -- are habitual, simple and easy, but absolutely essential to a productive and uplifting blazing session. You know: Bomber Blend, lifting belt, iPod, Blackberry, laptop, charts, Steve Reeves posters, Hercules ring with secret compartment, clips from Rocky, powdered methedrine (just joking about the meth).

Attitude is arguably of greater value, but far more elusive and less tangible. Standing amid a lush jungle or thick forest equipped with energy and tools and no will, rhyme or reason to press on will take you in tight, frustrating circles and lead you to a stump upon which you might nervously perch. This can give the weak among us the twitters and reduce us to tweets. Oh, my!

The plans unfold like pages of an unwritten novel. An exciting chapter is long overdue. I sit silently and reduce myself to this, the moment of my existence. It’s amazing how, when one controls one’s being so totally that one’s heartbeat and breath and neuron impulse merge mysteriously like...

Oh, dog poop!

I spilled my stinkin’ coffee all over my desk and keyboard and it splashed on the screen in frigging streaks. Major poop, man! It’s not my fault... the coffee cup was in the wrong place. “Laree...” She’ll know what to do. “Larrreeeee...” Stupid desk... soggy donuts. Now what? Why me?

Just get me to the gym and cut me loose. Lead me to the iron and stand back. Take me to your squat rack. You want a trail... I’ll give you a trail... How about a highway from here to Tallahassee... four lanes and a bridge?

Once you tap into a little adrenalin (engendered by emotion, fright, anger or emergency) the system comes alive with spontaneity and strength. The mind retreats and the instincts kick in like wild horses. Expression is creative and immediate.

Chest, back, shoulders and bis supersetted with core, legs, tris and forearms... between sets it’s abs, traps and the spin bike. Step aside. Gotta keep moving, or as we say in the trade, press on.

Godspeed...  DD

Did you know Bomber Blend will provide the least expensive and most nutritious meals in your daily eating regimen? It’s not an added extravagance to your food budget; it reduces your budget and improves your nutritional intake. It builds lean, strong and shapely muscle. Regular servings of Bomber Blend raise your IQ and enable you to time travel. Made into a poultice and smeared on the scalp will prevent baldness and kill tics. Good stuff.

Scoop the blend into a glass, stir and drink with pleasure and satisfaction, when you need to, want to or should. All the time.

Soak yourself in a taste of bodybuilding’s Golden Era with Dick Tyler’s on-the-scene record, written in his easy-going, one-of-a-kind style, West Coast Bodybuilding Scene.

Take a trip over to our
New Musclebuilding Q&A Blog
... where Dave allows us a peek into his email outbox.

Did you sign up for Dave's expanded email yet?
It's free, motivating and priceless!
We'll also send you a link to Dave's free
Body Revival Tips and Hints e-report with your confirmation notice.

Cut through the confusion! Grab your copy Brother Iron Sister Steel to make your training path clear.

Readers agree: Dave new book, Iron On My Mind, is non-stop inspirational reading.

Our IronOnline Forum will answer your training and nutriton questions right here, right now.

Golden Era fans will rejoice in this excerpt from West Coast Bodybuilding Scene.

Are your shoulders tight? Do your shoulders hurt when you squat? It's practically a miracle! Dave's Top Squat assists squatters with shoulder problems.

Here's Dave's previous week's column.