Odds and Ends, Hand-Me-Downs, Cheap Knock-Offs
There's still a few great pieces of equipment available at the Weight Room,
but hurry! They have to vacate soon.
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The age range at Gold’s in Watsonville is between 20 and 25. Lots of melon-size deltoids, lots of tatts, lots of serious faces and no wise guys. A few wow-gals stray across the floor to shuffle the iron, but they’re mostly down the mysterious corridors in alternate venues, the pool, aerobics room, spin-classes or ladies workout area. Me not go there, Igor.
I paint myself invisible, find a space to match my needs and dig in. This includes making my equipment choices in close proximity when supersetting. The less walking and gear-arranging I do, the more energy and strength, attention and time I conserve for the good fight.
Rationing once-prolific resources is an excellent discipline, exercising control, commonsense and creativity. Wisdom and humility are accessed and augmented. Tell it to the children. Fact is, rationing sucks.
I’m in no rush (oh, really… and where exactly would you go?), but I still retain a recognizable version of my long-established top-secret training style. The style -- more like an attack -- goes something like this: exert as hard as you can, rest just enough, exert hard, rest enough, exert, rest, again and again. Of course the weights used are lighter and the user is smaller, the exertion is lesser and the pause is longer. I’m good for an hour, Wednesday and Sunday. After that, I hallucinate, evaporate and incinerate simultaneously, instantaneously and spontaneously.
I’ve noticed something interesting over the past years under this forced moderation in my workouts. The pain, injuries and swollen joints that were once so common to the Bomber have diminished. Duh. I wonder why? Overtrain? Not me. I still ache all over, mind you, but not in a way that suggests I’m self-destructive, foolish or redemptive. I’m simply old... er… make that, older.
Furthermore, with the slight advantage of blurred vision, heavy overhead lighting, a carb-loaded pump, the ever-popular Draper XL SuperMirror, an unusually cheerful mood (alcohol-free, yet) and a shutter-quick peek, I slightly resemble myself. It helps to squint.
Needless to say, you have to take my word for it; I lie a lot, seldom tell the truth and often exaggerate about matters such as these. The important thing is I believe it, which, I suppose, is a perverted form of positive thinking. Psychotic Cybernetics by D. D. Bombard.
Hello. Mini workout template: five exercises, four sets, 12, 10, 8, 6 deliberate reps, sensible resistance, maximum exertion, 60 minutes. Goodbye.
Earlier today, Wednesday…
Rope tucks (35-rep template exception)
Smith PBN supersetted with pulldown behind neck
Bent bar curl supersetted with lying triceps extension
This Sunday, perhaps…
Rope tucks supersetted with seated lat row
Incline press supersetted with stiff-arm pullover
Leg press
The essentials – chest, shoulders, back, bis, tris, gut and legs -- are attentively stimulated throughout the week without slaughter and evisceration. Might not build a Mr. America body, whatever that is, but it’ll help keep what I have from turning into a lump, or the parking lot of Dunkin’ Donuts, or Patty’s Pub… off a bridge, into on-coming traffic.
Set ’em up, Joe, Bomber Blend and shots of creatine all ’round. Here’s to muscle and might and the good fight. Let the good times roll.
God’strength… Dipsy Doodle
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