The music of Johnny Cash reminds me of a steam engine revving up to speed. (For better effect put on his 1976 "One Piece at a Time" while reading this entry.) Of late my workouts have been resembling a steam engine. It doesn't matter how hot the boiler gets before leaving the station there ain't going to be any speed for miles. During my college days in the pool I excelled in sprint backstroke. But these days I'm labelled a distance swimmer. Not because I am thick in the middle and slightly askew mentally, those are mere coincidences. Rather because it takes me a quarter of a mile to just wake up in most races. In the gym is no different.
When Jaron, the Anthony Bourdain of body parts unknown, writes a strength phase with five sets I get excited. The first two sets are brutal as my body pops and cracks. By the last set I am in the zone. In stride. Full steam. Jaron and I are planning on a max weight lift in the coming weeks. I am fully aware real men don't plan something as simple as a max lift. But with a professional-personal schedule that resembles a Looney Tunes fight cloud I need to have mundane task calendared... "Home by 5:30." "Set alarm for 4:30a.m. alarm." "Get gainzzz!" I need reminders for my reminders. I digress. When we go for our max weight lift Jaron told me that five reps at 135lbs will be his warm up. I will have to hit the elliptical for :20 minutes, drop a few sets of ten push-ups, and then progress through a ladder of bench press sets starting at 135lbs to be ready for my best effort. Can you hear the train a coming!?! Whhhhhooooeeeooooooheeeooohh.