Seven Sons of Samson
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Day by day, information bombards us from every direction. Thousands of bits of odd-shaped thoughts, facts, figures and ideas collide randomly in our reposed minds. A fair portion of this mental detritus is sought by us to educate and guide; much too much, however, is aimed at the cortex by an alien to sell, persuade, condition and tame. It's a jungle out there and one needs a machete, a strong arm and a sharp eye to cut through the overgrowth and make clear a path.
-- Squats are more fun than Pin the Tail on the Donkey --
Nutrition and physiology, anatomy and kinesthetics are fascinating subjects, the favorite pursuit of many professionals and hungry-to-learn fitness enthusiasts. These fields are vast, stretch like the plains of Africa and are often intertwined and unexplored. How can we not be drawn to their mystery and allure? Yet, the calculation and regulation of the mass of information available and the reliance of such information as being pertinent to our real 'fitness quest' is absurd and, I have observed, a real hindrance.
-- I’d rather have iron than silver or gold --
My creed goes something like this: keep it simple, stick to the basics, train consistently with enthusiasm and intensity, use logic, be creative and intuitive, be confident in your applications, be happy and deal with your misery. Be real. Stop fussing. There are absolutely no secrets. Nothing's new. Collect the necessary information and get to work. The clutter of intelligence, the waste of words describing a simple thing, the superior heaps of decaying mental rubbish surrounding the notion of exercise and sensible eating is maddening. Why, there are people who have read so much they think they actually know something. The learning's not in the reading, it's in the doing.
-- Give me dumbbells or give me death --
Here we are on the web of all places to add multitudinously to an already out-of-control catastrophe. Smart cookies we are, getting smarter. There is no better place to grow a discerning mind and gain sound footing than in the gleaning fields of wild information. A process undertaken single-handed, I should note, can be dangerous. With no one to juggle the suggestions and directions and possibilities tossed our way, a predictable tangle will result, time lost in goofy workouts, hazardous dieting, backwards nutrition, absurd training notions from lost souls. One must learn to glean and sample, confer and intuit, risk yet listen to logic and wisdom. Alas, where and under what conditions does one find an atmosphere to practice such liberties? How does one discover understanding?
-- I never met a man with a barbell I didn’t like --
Please, indulge me, dear friends of davedraper.com. Often, I refer to IronOnline as the central subject and theme of my weekly jabbering. This may appear as inner-circle conversation, another world, but the discussion group is alive and dimensional, offering cartloads of precious and common raw material to be refined as in a smelting pot. It is in the comfortable confines of the cyber workplace, IOL, that logic and common sense surface, conferences convene and seminars appear spontaneously. Old stuff and new stuff are examined, experienced and compared, the diets, the exercises, the strategies, the gear, the gismos, the heroes, the myths.
-- A bar in hand is worth two in the rack --
There are times when I observe the activity from my 'stealth bomber' mode and it looks like a baseball game with thirteen players and four balls on the field, two at bat and everybody pitching. "Victims of information overload, idle fools, they are," I thought for many months. And then it began to happen. A curious maturity emerged as the participants carefully, thoughtfully applied themselves to the truth... because it was there, somewhere, and nothing else would do. It never does. Bags and bundles of processed data and facts were dumped out of the IOL perimeter. "Who needs it?" they agreed... served its purpose, made us think, showed us left from right, caused us to flounder and re-right ourselves, separated the workers from the clowns, created some heat amidst the personalities that, in turn, created a rare unity. Worth the effort... we know better... we move on.
-- He who lifts last lifts hardest --
The information about which we speak is as endless as space and time, but we know better. You lift it up if it's before you, rotate it in your strong hand and if it fits, you keep it. Otherwise, go back to your squats, deadlifts or whatever else you were doing and get an extra rep. Don't forget your protein.
-- Bomber Blend builds big biceps --
Go… God Bless you… DD
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