Life is serious.
It is also silly. Hi. I feel like a lump. That is to say I'm overcome
with lumpiness, body, mind and soul: a presence neither frightening
nor soothing, disgraceful, disarming, right nor wrong. You don't
choose it, plan it or prevent it. It just happens like loose change
on the kitchen counter, worn knees in your jeans, a tickle or
an itch. The "Lumps" is a numb condition or state of being that
is partly psychological (mood, attitude, perception) and a very
real, almost comforting fatigue, which accompanies accomplishment,
successful long term over-coming and a survival of the fittest.
I don't know where you live, but here on the central coast of
California I am by this time of year a bit beat-up. Nothing of
major consequence, not calamitous. Just faintly tattered, mildly
every year in October. In fact, the anticipation, a harsh prelude,
begins in the last weeks of September. The fall and the winter
with all their glory (brisk holidays, snow-covered mountain playlands,
crackling fireplace) bring cold, wet, gray, short, dismal, cruel,
miserable, sunless days and achy, pumpless, stubborn, gray, toneless,
grouchy bodies. October, November, December, January, February,
March... SEE WHAT I MEAN ... DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT I'M TRYING
TO SAY HERE ... er ... scuz me ... didn't mean to lose my cool.
I seldom raise my voice... I don't complain, don't mutter ...
I'm stoical... ask Laree... I'll be ok ... give me some air...
a welcome month. In its crisp windiness there flickers a light:
the light at the end of the endless tunnel. The past few days
have been remarkable, sunny and bright and warm. You can clearly
see it in the eyes of the people, hear it in their greetings and
feel it in the energy they display. Recovery from the lumps is
lurks and misery loves company. I wander around the gym and wait
for the right person to ask how I'm doin'. I say 'great' or 'perfect'
or 'amazing' and casually engage in a conversation about the sun,
the lengthening days ( Daylight Savings Time... April 2), Spring
ahead (March 21st) and the whole summer (175 days total), the
good training harvest, outdoors, vacations, tans and beaches.
They're all smiles, primed and unsuspecting. Then, I subtly relive
the nastiness of the long, hard winter, the flu and colds and
viruses (mine in particular as I pretend to be identifying with
theirs) and the aches and arthritis (mine in particular as I pretend
to identify with theirs) and the fact that this is the time of
year when I am at my lowest, pretending to be talking about us
so as not to appear selfish or weak. My friend is listening and
nodding sincerely. This is great. All the time I babble I notice
their expression changing from beaming smile to grin to benevolent
concern about what or whom or why, they're not sure. My expression
matches theirs but inside I'm jubilant. I've managed to complain,
nearly scream in agony as I shared what appeared to be a discourse
on "a beautiful day." They'll get over it.
is it has been a good and hardy winter: many fond memories, many
steps forward, an abundance of richness (IOL has over 50 active
bombers and about 350 stealth bombers... dd.com newsletter has
like 2,100 subscribers). We together battled through six months
of tough times with fewer casualties than had we battled alone.
setting Olympic lifting records, Moke's getting more pleasingly
muscular by the workout, Ivan's a live-wire personal trainer,
Og's squatting as the doctors nod their heads and shrug their
shoulders in unison, Laree benched a clean 140, precocious Joey
O has cross-striations in his lower ab, Chuck has lost even more
weight and we can't find him. Geno secretly eats Big Macs, Delphene
and her darling daughter, Vanessa, continue to climb the mountain
hand in hand, Lauri is a free woman training herself with unbridled
spirit and insight, Doc is perfecting a highly anabolic ink solution
for his robust tattooing art form.
A small miscalculation
has been detected and is causing an under-current of discomfort
and doubt. It seems I'm not alone in my mild exhaustion; the lack-
luster, running on empty training blues that is as short-lived
as a sneeze. The thought of "Getting Ripped" this month is ludicrous.
Guy's looking at May while Bruce is pushing for July. I was bulking
(hit 227 before the notorious March submission), the moderator
is coughing less, yet still coughing. Working Hard Ron has the
flu in N.Y., a couple of beloved Bills and California Dreamin'
Barry in Pa. are attending the disciplines of injury, like cats
licking their wounds. As this is a community of the people, for
the people and by the people, I put forth the issue for a vote;
an amendment to extend our "Abs and Get Ripped Month" 'till May...
"May Day". We need to take time to actively pause and review,
adjust, revitalize and psychologically prepare for the ripping
truth. We've approached the edge too soon. Am I Chicken Bigtime?
Tell me the Truth. I can handle it.
in favor say, "Aye". All those opposed can talk to Egor the Terrible
down in the dungeon.
names I mention are fictitious IronOnLine Bombers. They may resemble
you by coincidence. It's OK.
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