It's a Jungle Out There

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Day by day information bombards us from every direction. Thousands of bits of odd-shaped thoughts, facts, figures and ideas randomly collide 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 we need a machete, a strong arm and a sharp eye to cut through the overgrowth to clear a path.

Nutrition and physiology, anatomy and kinesiology 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 the 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 fitness quest is absurd and a real hindrance.

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.

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's no better place to grow a discerning mind and gain sound footing than in the vast fields of wild information.

A process undertaken single-handedly can be dangerous. With no one to juggle the suggestions and directions and possibilities tossed our way, a predictable tangle will result. Time is lost in goofy workouts, hazardous dieting, backward nutrition and 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?

Please, indulge me, dear friends. Often, I refer to "bombers" as the central subject and theme of my jabbering. This may appear as inner-circle conversation, another world, but we're 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 our cyber workplace that old and new stuff is 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 13 players and four balls on the field, two at bat and everybody pitching. "Victims of information overload, idle fools, they are," I used to think.

And then it began to happen. A curious maturity emerged as the cyber participants carefully, thoughtfully applied themselves to the truth...because it was there, somewhere, and nothing else would do. Bags and bundles of processed data and facts were dumped out of the perimeter.

"Who needs it?"

It 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 amid the personalities that, in turn, created a rare unity.

The information 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 to get an extra rep.



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