I'm still here.

I haven’t written in a while because I haven’t been in pain. Everything is fine in week two of the new training regimen. I’m not sore. The hammy’s healed up. I’m not having a problem with the incremental increases in my exercise intensity. I only have to get my diet fine tuned. I’m not a bodybuilder eating everything I can to maximize growth. I don’t want to grow significantly. I want to be on the Six Million Dollar Man plan: make me better, stronger, faster (cue theme music).

I’m having a change in attitude. I think I might be morphing into a Kenyan. I’m finding running a suitable means of transportation to more and more destinations. I need to go to the Y? Screw it, I’ll run; Publix, I’ll run. If I could not stink when I got there I would run to work, but a Harvard study has shown that body odor is a deterrent to business. It’s science.

Jeez! How Stupid is this Jackass?

I’m noticing from my previous posts that I spend a lot of time in pain. Most of it falls into the “no pain, no gain” and “no guts, no glory” categories, which is no problem. However, today’s pain chronicle doesn’t fall into either one of these. Today’s pain falls into the “What’s wrong with that old guy?” category. I skipped my leg workout yesterday and did my shoulders instead. I figured I would hit my legs today, rest Sunday, and that would give my lower back time to recuperate. I planned ahead like a 36 year old should. I drove to the gym instead of running so I wouldn’t get stuck on the way home if the unforeseen should happen. I did five minutes on a bike to warm up my knees, and then I headed to the squat racks. I was in the middle of my routine; everything was going fine. Then the unforeseen happened; a couple of kids who play football for Bolles – I know this because their T-shirts told me so – started their routines. They were both big guys. One of them was as big as me, and they were going heavy. Naturally, I had to protect what was mine – the squat area. I try not to exceed a certain amount of weight when I squat. I’ll never set a world record, and I can seriously hurt myself doing heavy squats. Squats are the only exercise that I do more than ten reps in every set. Unfortunately, Chris and Isaiah were in my zone so I went real heavy. I went heavier than I have in more than a year, even though I haven’t done this exercise in about six weeks. I actually put on a weight belt. It was worth it because Chris, the big one, said, “Man, you’re gettin’ low for going so heavy.” The savannah was still mine. I responded, “You’ve got to.” This is where they introduced themselves and I found out their names. At this point I didn’t care about the alpha male stuff – and yes I was irrationally competing with 17 year old boys – it made my day to meet a white gentile named Isaiah under the age of 90. His nickname is Zeke. I told him that was the coolest thing I’d ever heard. We chatted about lifting and football for a bit and then I needed to do my cardio so I could get back home in time for the NCAA tournament. I decided to run on the track today – bad decision. There was a girls running club at the track doing time trials. I should mention that heavy squats hit my hamstrings right where they meet my glutes, and I’ve known this since I was fifteen years old. Strangely enough, just like running. Today was farltek day so I was supposed to be pushing the pace anyway. The girls were doing time trials for a mile. If you’ve read this far you know the chances of me letting a 14 year old girl out run me are what mathematicians call statistically insignificant – aka Z-Ro. The track is big enough so that I wasn’t interfering with them and they weren’t interfering with me – other than I had to run faster than whoever was on the track at the time. I had planned on doing 3 miles and I finished the first mile in a little under 7 minutes – well ahead of the first time trial 14 year old. The second 14 year old started fast, so I had to pick up the pace. My heart said easy buddy and about 200 yards into the lap my left hamstring said, “I’ve been shot!” Yeah, the hammy popped. I didn’t fall down, but I looked like a complete retard. There were about eight 14 year old girls and two coaches – not to mention the people on the riverwalk or the homeless dude resting on the bench – who I pretended didn’t exist as I hobbled back to my car and drove home. I don’t think I tore it, but it hurts like a bastard. I keep hoping that my galactic level stupidity has bottomed out, but I keep finding sub-basements: Lift heavy after six weeks of inactivity in the most dangerous of lifts, run as fast as you can immediately afterwards as a 36 year old man competing with teenage athletes, how could this possibly end badly?

My Love/Hate Relationship with Squats

I don’t want to do my legs. I was supposed to do them yesterday, but I was able to find excuses not to. I quit weight training my legs about a month ago in favor of additional running as the River Run approached. But the River Run has come and gone, and I need to start blasting my quads again. Squats are sometimes my favorite lift and sometimes the exercise I hate most. Right now I don’t want to do any squats. They hurt. They make me light headed, which is how I know I’m doing them correctly. And since I haven’t done them in a month I will be sore for a minimum of four days. I’ve thought about moving shoulder day up one day and leg day back one day, but that won’t work. It would mean immediately following legs with a back workout. My lower back and hamstrings can’t take that type of abuse anymore. So not only is my procrastination affecting my legs it’s affecting my shoulders. I’m thinking about blaming my wife for all of this. She’s on spring break, and she’s seriously hampering my aggression. Squats require rage. I do them best when I’m worked up into a borderline psychotic frenzy, but she plays The Cure and Bret Denen(sp?), and I enjoy being around her. None of this is conducive to belligerence. So if my legs are skinny it’s MJ’s fault.

New and Improved Training Regimen

I started my new routine today, which is my old routine plus a 2 mile run to the YMCA and a 2 mile run home. I got to the gym in about 15 minutes, caught my breath, and reintroduced my back to Dark Lord Deadlift. All – and I mean all – back workouts begin with deads. They don’t necessarily have to be done first in the back workout, but if deads aren’t done then the back wasn’t hit. For my money, it’s the best compound movement. It’s natural and I can pile on the plates. I’m too lazy to put on a weight belt so I don’t go super heavy very often, and I was feeling lazy today. Did I mention that I ran to the gym? I also did pull-ups, seated cable rows, and then I did my biceps – upgrading the guns. The arm workout consisted of cambered bar curls, seated dumbbell curls, and hammer curls. I’m keeping it simple; I’m keeping it moving. Then I burned 423 calories on the elliptical machine in 30 minutes. Normally, in my old routine, I would hop on the treadmill and walk for half an hour, but not today. Today is the first – it was almost the last – day of the rest of my life, and I was running home. My heart had other plans. El corozon said, “No, call a cab. Stay here, it’s the Y. I don’t care. We’re not running home.” I had never started a run fatigued. I had no glycogen left. I burnt it up blasting my back like Big Ronnie Coleman. This was the first time I had to shorten my stride just to get started. I wanted to stop from the first step on the trip home. I had to start making deals with my self from the get go – just get to Fidelity, just get to Riverside Avenue, just get to the Cummer, just get to Memorial Park. When I got to Memorial Park my heart seemed to concede that it was easier to just keep going than to stop. I was going to pass a hospital anyway, and that part of Riverside Avenue is a major ambulance conveyance. I don’t know how long it took me to get home. I forgot to look at the clock at the Y before I left. But it wasn’t too long and my heart settled down pretty quickly. I doubt my lower back is going to be agreeable tomorrow morning, but we’re going to try the new routine chest and triceps version.

Meme Thursday: Am I Organized? Can I Find My Keys?

I am very organized at a strategic level. I know where I'm supposed to be, what I'm supposed to be doing, and how I'm getting there for the next 6 weeks. Tactically, I'm lost. I work on the 29th floor of an office building, and I park on the 6th floor of a garage across the street. I have, on more than one occasion, grabbed everything I need for a presentation, printed my route and sent it to my Blackberry, rode the high speed elevator down 29 floors, rode the rickety POS elevator up six floors (I'm not Catholic but hail Mary full of grace), reached into my pocket for my car keys and came up with lint. This is where the fun part begins. I start by bellowing a 15 second three octave F-bomb that echos in the garage. Then I take the garage elevator down six floors (Our father who art in heaven), the office elevator up 29 floors -- I get a good head rush -- and I find my keys on my desk right next to my cellular. I don't know how to get these ten minutes of my life back

I have a detailed workout plan; running has recently been added. I know what muscles I'm working, how much weight I'm lifting, the number of sets, the number of reps, and the order. I know what I did the last time I hit a muscle group. I don't need a log to help me remember. However I do need something to help me remember my gloves and my iPod. I live and work two miles from my gym. It's tap dead center on my commute route(this may or may not rhyme depending on how one pronounces "route"). I never forget my keys because I can't get out of the house without them. However, I forget my iPod at least twice a week. Sometimes I will remember it as I back out of the driveway. Sometimes I will remember it as I get out of the car at the gym. At which point I get back in the car to go get the iPod -- no iPod, no workout. There is no echo so the F-bomb antic isn't nearly as cathartic. I just leave my gloves in the car. I don't wash them until they start to make my hands itch; the smell doesn't bother me. Yeah it's disgusting, but I can't do deadlifts without gloves. Leaving them in the car may not be personally hygienic, but I'm not wasting gasoline making two trips to the gym. I'm reducing my carbon footprint, and I stink. Wow! I'm a hippy and I didn't even know it. That's an inconvenient truth.

Training Day 1

So Denzel asks me to stop by this diner... Training Day get it?

Actually I ran for the first time since the River Run today. I ran from my house to Fishweir Elementary school. It's a roughly 4 mile run through scenic Riverside and Avondale. I ran at the mad dog and Englishman time of 3pm. It was a comfortable 87 degrees(MJ would need earmuffs brrrrrr). Man, do I love Florida. This is the first time I've run this route in about 6 weeks, and I took about 3 minutes off my time. I ran it today in 29:50 at a pretty steady pace -- steady being the operative word. I was still having to slow myself down, which means the pace my body wants to run is nearly ready for next year. All I have to do is improve my cardiovascular endurance. If I can run 5 miles at this pace, which would be under 38 minutes, in March I'll be very happy. We'll know before the weekend is over, and before the hangin' and the bangin' gets added back into the routine.

'06 Recap '07 Goals

In '06 I dropped more than 40lbs, my waist went from 42in to 36in, my pullups went from 12 to 30 reps, and my bench press reps at 225lbs dropped from 15 to 12( a small price to pay for the weight loss). I was also bitten by the running bug, and finished my first 15k yesterday. I'm happy with everything except my bench and my race times. Unfortunately, my ego Old Scratch, has gotten involved with the decision making process for my '07 goals. The following are carved in stone, and barring my maimage(it's a word. I just wrote it) and/or death, will be accomplished by next year's Gate River Run.

1. Finish the River Run with a chip time of 59:59. That's almost 18 minutes behind the race record so it's not impossible.

2. I'm bouncing 225 lbs. twenty-five times. There will be no steroids, no HGH, I won't even use creatine.

We're going to keep it simple. We're going to keep it moving. These goals may seem counterintuitive, but they're not. I just have to eat right, and eat a lot.