Those are wrong dimensions

“His cathedral is enough for him. It was peopled with marble figures of kings, saints and bishops who at least did not laugh in his face and looked at him with only tranquillity and benevolence. The other statues, those of monsters and demons, had no hatred for him – he resembled them too closely for that. It was rather the rest of mankind that they jeered at.” ― Victor Hugo, The Hunchback of Notre-Dame

The magic juice flows.

The purple people grows.

Thru the little hole in the arm,

Goes the magic juice of harm. 

The gym is an amazing place for people-watching. But it's important to master the art of multiple mirror gazing if you decide to make this an avenue for dealing with a workout's mental time suck. Key point to remember, if you can see the persons eyes they can see yours. And if they've perfected the reverse triangulation technique your duck blind will be exposed.

Multiple mirror gazing is most commonly used to check out hot chicks and abnormally huge dudes. The chicks are accustomed to an awkwardly long peep from men and or jealous women, but the abnormally huge dudes get paranoid when common folk stare to long... It's a Quasimodo trigger, and one of the many side effects to steroid use. (Not really. But who cares? My observations are backed by Dr. Frankenstein himself.)

During one of our many training sessions I turned to Jaron and asked what it would take for me to be huge and ripped liked one of the knuckle draggers. "Steroids!" So simple. Yet so profound of a plural. I'll leave the physiological break down for the professional... he has the iron stomach to tackle purple skin and back acne. SNAIL TRAIL! To make a long story even longer; Jaron said with my body type the best I could achieve is a Matthew McConaughey body in Sahara. A reachable goal if I kept things au naturel. Followed by his favorite McConaughey  quote as David Wooderson in Dazed and Confused; "I keep getting older and they stay the same age."

Before I end, it is important that I get something of my chest. I LOATH THE SCALES! That vile, wretched, unforgiving messenger of emotional torment is messing with my mind like a jaded ex-girlfriend. Rhetorical question to the universe: How can I cinch up my belt three holes and only be down six pounds? DEATH TO THE SCALE!





Can someone please get Pheidippides a horse!

"We continue on this fool's errand attempting to freeze time from cradle to casket. Ironically, the quickest route to death's door stoop is on the back of exercises employed as freezing agents."  -- Achieving ODJ

A half dozen years back Jaron and I were conversing about good cardio options for long term health, joint longevity, and overall system
sustainability. He listed off a full catalogue of exercises; stationary bike, road cycling, hiking, incline treadmill, swimming, Stair Master, elliptical, rowing machine, speed mall walking... not really the last one, that one is an inside joke. "Wait!" Said I, so smugly the tourist in the land of fitness I was in those days; "What about running?" In his deadpan sense of humor he said, "I only run from bears and cops." Luckily his rough and rowdy past has aged out of the latter's necessity and presently all he must worry about is the former escaping our circus act.

In the two years under his wing Jaron has only assigned a few brief running speed interval sets. I will let the Master of Muscle Mayhem address his logic. (Make sure you read his comment, it'll be worth the price of the ticket!) Running to me is a high that I can live without -- even though I have experienced a runner's high it is an exercise that beats my body to a pulp. The return on running's investment holds as much value in my long view fitness play as a Confederate nickel on Time Square. In no way does that dampen my desire to run a marathon in the next few years, I just know now that I could be repaying that debt until my dirt nap.

Jaron will give you a funny, but coincidentally scary, anecdote on the finite heart beat theory. It'll make you rethink that dream of training for, and conquering the Badwater Ultramarathon. 

People we got more stories than the Empire State Building!   

Assumption of risk.

"Middle age white guy problems, but a third world life ain't one."

If our readership has not figured out for themselves that Jaron and I do not take ourselves serious, let me clarify; "Jaron and I do not take ourselves serious!" This blog is meant to poke fun at fitness fads, our personal hypocrisy, Crossfit disciples, and anything we find down-right idiotic (vis-à-vis the entire product line of BeachBody, Jenny Craig, and body wraps to name a few.) In no way does this take away from Jaron's professional aptitude and extensive knowledge of the fitness industry. Nor does it take away from our years as NCAA Division I swimmers either. We are just abdicating people think for themselves, listen to your body, go to a professional and get off the unholy swill those snake oil salesmen are pushing on early morning infomercials.

I look forward to my daily gym visit, and not because I crave the endorphin rush, but because gyms are a cultured petri dish of Ponce de León descendants, unapologetic douche bags, and a full spectrum of seekers. All parties giving me inspiration to stay in the clichéd "moment," and to continue on with my work out program to see if the fertile land sprouts up an observation to pass along in this digital rag. Having Jaron as the inside man pulling back the curtain on the Great Oz we plan to spit out this dribble for a long time. So buy the ticket, take the ride.

The Ole Dirty Dozen tour

“Like the Founding Fathers of this here United States of America, I set forth with full expectation of burning bridges with the powers that be. But when the rabble failed to notice the genius I invited the local coed blind fire twirlers to our little matchstick party to wake up the rankless.”  -- Achieving ODJ

I find great inspiration watching the synergy of all-star teams as they overcome individual egos to vanquish a task. Take the majesty of the 1992 U.S.A Olympic basketball team's (a.k.a. “Dream Team”) historic smack down on the rest of the world. Then there was the 1977 benzoylmethyl ecogonine fuelled comic juggernaut cast of Saturday Night Live. And my personal all-time favorite all-star lineup of historical fiction superheroes... The Dirty Dozen. It’s judgment day, sinners! Come out, come out wherever you are! This ragtag band of criminals and miscreants came together under a common cause, and the fear of military firing squad, to save the free world by party crashing a lavish Nazi shindig.

In a spark of inspiration at the beginning of our current phase Jaron had a foggy vision that we needed to take an all-star trip through the past two years; pulling from the best of the best work out sets. More like, "let's build a bigger better torture devise and then test it on ourselves!" The following is not for the faint of heart or those looking for a glowing endorsement from the makers of T25 at BeachBody.

Chest & Triceps

Dumbbell press – 65lb 5x5
Decline pushups – 5x20

Body weight dips– 5x5

Skull crushers – 65lb bar 5x5

Back & Arms

Pull ups – 5x5
Reverse pushups on smith machine – 5x10
Preacher curl -- 5x10 (second half forced negative)
Dumb bell revers fly -- 20lbs 5x10

Legs
Sling press -- 5x5 (think Salem witch dunking, without the water)
Pee Wee Herman step ups -- 40lbs 3x16
Speed skaters -- 25
Prison squats -- 20

Merely working, they don't live.

Is it too much to ask the world around me for a few simple pleasures in life? Double ply in the men's locker room. Fully functional cardio equipment in the gym. And the big piece of chicken at family dinner. Since the upgraded version of MyFitnessPal app has a new system to praise or scorn in a manner reserved for the most passive aggressive computer programs on the market, I'll be enjoying many pieces of ground fowl during my race to sub-200 pounds.

Those using this app will be familiar with the new color coded alerts after each entry is logged: green for good job fat boy, yellow for sliding toward sloth phase, and red for "you're one Oreo away from extinction." I am hoping this will fill an emotional void hollowed out by years of rejection. Being a traveling salesman I spend all day getting the door slammed on me, which in turn frequently triggers a brief conversation with inanimate objects in my car to relieve the cold harsh realities of peddling product. The radio has to be getting sick of me yelling into the CD slot, "FIND. GARY. BUSEY!" Now I can seek validation through my little pal in the MyFitnessPal app who rates me green for great job. There should be no questioning the correlation between green in the app and the green ribbon culture infecting modern middle class society... Equal opportunity went on a love bender with political correctness spawning a sadistic child named equal outcome.

I will admit in the court of the blogosphere that I desire, and I also find great pleasure, receiving my green ranking after each food entry with equal parts shame when red appears. Encouragement from trainers and work out partners is wonderful, but relying on cold programs is anti-social and plays into every dystopian critique of society's trajectory since WWII. Those in our readership pool who came of age in the 1990's will remember the scene in Demolition Man when the emotional weak citizen turns to a sidewalk computer for emotional reinforcement and positive affirmations. I guess we'll be seeing in the near future an option at the ATM for $20 bills or a daily positive conversation with Max Headroom's therapeutic virtual cousin. "You are beautiful. You are amazing. You deserve to be great!"