First Things First

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Forecast: Sniffles and Overcast Skies


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And, then, there comes the time when discipline isn’t enough, motivation is anemic and hard work is just plain hard work. It’s been a week since I stepped up to a rack and grabbed a pair of dumbbells. Ambushed by a cold, the most I can do is sit before the computer and type a few words, and they the dim reflection of my mood.

Oh, swell, you say, now we get to read about the freaks in his neighborhood and the burglars in the community and the crooks in the government. I feel pumped and energized already. Hey, Bomber, one more time, tell us about the conspiracy to shift funds from the defense budget to finance the construction of a mosque on Arizona’s southern border with unionized, underage, migrant workers, the energy for which will be supplied by spilled-Gulf-oil gathered in buckets by coastal fishermen and their families.

I not only have fatigue, aches and congestion, but the California sun hasn’t shined in a month.

Sometimes you have to let go, bombers. Fighting the cold -- or the injury, or the ailment or the condition -- is just plain exhausting. Once certain your distress is authentic, submission can be the healthiest, most aggressive course of action.
 
Note: To allay the sense of “submission,” apply the more athletically correct (AC) term “willful and insistent acceptance” in its place. 

I suspect I’m well enough to return to the gym and some semblance of a workout, but one more day of willful and insistent acceptance is the wisest approach for this endangered Majestic Bald Geezer. I shall glide smoothly, soar mildly and perch frequently, and be operational to launch a few crackles and pops tomorrow. Bombing and blasting will be postponed till next week. Heck, by then summer will be only weeks from expiring and, perhaps, the weather will improve. Imagine. Daylight.

You’ll note I refrained from saying sunshine. No sense in going overboard… in this gloom, I’ll never dry.

I’m suffering the fat-skinny disease obsessed muscleheads of all ages endure when they have not hugged a barbell for 24 hours. If my condition continues at this rate, I’ll be 300 slobbering pounds with 12-inch arms by dawn. Whattawoose! Sniffles and overcast skies and the Bomber is on a bummer. Poor baby. Grow up, already!

Get this: I typed Whattawoose into the computer and spell-check made the correction, Whitehouse. Are you kidding me? Is this computer rigged? I’m, like, “don’t get me started, man.” Laree forbids me to get political. “You chase everyone away, LaBoma.”  Just kidding… she doesn’t call me LaBoma. Sounds like… oop… never mind.

I’m proud I’ve boldly confronted my cold (did I mention how miserable I’ve been: stiff, stuffy, weak all over?) and stoically concealed my anxiety over getting out of shape (I’m a total, absolute wreck… arrgh… and I can’t stand it anymore.). Thus, I can devote my full attention to the workout, my first step back to the living, kicking and screaming.

Ease into it, a little of this, a little of that, push, pull, stretch and breathe deeply; nudge, urge, persuade, tempt and test, but do not force, demand or insist. The immune system responds positively to stimulation, but negatively to intensification (6 syllables). The joint and muscular structure require thoughtful refreshment to assure a smooth transition from idle to active, and prevent the not-so-pretty, I-wanna-die pain of an ambitious training resurgence. Furthermore, the mind and its emotional content are at least as fragile as the physical package and will burst at the seams if handled roughly. 

Caution! Handle With Care! This End Up!

Time plugs along; another day, another lesson; another pause and shuffle and side-long glance; a little assurance, plenty of doubt and, thank God, sufficient faith, hope and gratefulness. This B-68 could get used to hanging out at the hanger and slowly taxiing about the runway as the engine rumbles at low RPMs. Beware the lure of low altitude and low attitude and low revolutions.

Let the tricks begin. I’ve geared up, adorning my favorite sweats, t-shirt and good luck charm. My gym bag containing grapes, a protein shake, water and Brawny paper towels sits by the door next to my sneaky sneaks and list of home-bound chores (milk, bread, post office, fill tank). Trifling matters, yet they are a definite nod of agreement, a chalk-handed gesture of commitment and a solid investment in the pump ’n burn mission before me.

All the while my subconscious is secretly devising my plan of attack upon entering the gym doors. Let’s face it; a return to the house of iron after a week-long convalescence is not a sporty event. It’s a battle against the foe that would break your will and back if not effectively opposed.

The corners we back ourselves into, the edges to which we cling, the unstable heights we dare climb remind us life’s true sport is survival. There’s no letting your guard down, bombers. Never quit, never give up, never give in. I say these things deliberately, as the fight is ongoing, daily and day after day. Only the iron makes it achievable and worthwhile.

I made it. Hello, Gym. How’re ya dumbbells hangin’? The iron is in place, the benches are as I remember them, and the pulleys are still round, though they could use a shot of WD-40. Keep ’em loose. After this workout, I might try a shot myself.

Rope tucks, dumbbell inclines supersetted with seated lat rows and finished with nasty PBNs on the Smith and pulldowns behind the neck. Four sets of everything till the pump, burn and effort are sufficient; till the mind is soothed, the soul is expressed and the spirits are elevated and the day is done.

Honey, I’m home. Oh, I skipped the market, mail and gas. 

There’s nothing new under the sun, kids. We do what we have to do as best we can and fake the rest. Laree and I are going to the movies in a few to see The Expendables before it appears on late-night TV.

Have fun. Drink plenty of Bomber Blend. Don’t curl and drive.

La Bomba

 

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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.

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