Oh where to begin?
With our pain or lust for thin?
Cuz this man ain't got it together.
Its mind to mouth with no filter.
- ODJ: The Musical
Krause looks similar to dehydrated microwaved death at 6:30am. Not as bad as those poor zombie herds in the ordering line of Starbucks. Damn sad sight to see deer-eyed addicts listing to and fro just one barista mix up away from dropping all rational convention and jumping over the bullet proof glass to mainline the black gold. No, Krause has less passive aggression and a better sense of humor.
The two things I have come to accept during the first week of a new phase are pain and awkwardness -- the former delayed by a day and the latter instantaneous. So after our first set of opposing cable press at 100 lbs we moved into the fun stuff. Second set on chest and tricep day is corn on the cob incline push ups (not corn cop as I mistakenly called them last week.) Lower the bar on the smith machine and rock out five sets of ten. However the corn on the cob part brings the pain! You lower yourself to arms 90 degrees with head up, then move left then right then back to center and then push up. By the third set which was the point Krause was willing to negotiated on that it became clear I might take a strain induced nap on the bar with a little neck smack to finish things off. The arm trimmers on the last ten were a bonus.
The third of four sets was a blast from the past -- blank push ups. This fine little exercise makes you look like a camel standing up, but in our case that camel comes with an involuntary snot cannon primed to blow at any moment. Then Mr. Mayhem gives me a bonus introduction of a plank push up on a bosu ball. After attempting three reps of these unholy bastards I did a track start dismount off the ball nearly turning the ab station into a hardcore parkour course. Thank goodness Krause is a professional and realized the gym's liability insurance would not cover a header into the women's gym glass partition so he landed the plane with a set of single arm machine flys.
May your week be well, because Krause and I have a week of pain to begin!
Post Script... Congratulations to Krause for taking over his gym after only a month in town.
For good, bad, or ill, those bastards felt it necessary to put me in charge. I'm sure I don't want the hours, but I, sadly, give a crap! These guys are rubbing sticks together, meanwhile I got a Zippo. Seemed like the right thing to do. My cognitive and facultative capacity at 6:30 in the AM is poor, like Kenny's parents on South Park. I'm glad they have lane divider bumps here in Vegas, cause I drive by braille at that ungodly hour. My utter lack of coherency aside, I do love introducing new routines to clients. And in ole JT's case, teasing him with a significantly tougher version of one that we may do down the line (plank pushups on a stability ball). The track start was an unexpected pearl that justified the predawn exhumation. Glad daylight savings time being over means light in the sky at that hour in the coming weeks. It's entirely psychosomatic, and I'm not blind to it, but light in the sky justifies being awake. Up next on the docket, legs. Aw shit...
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