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.
Love the Man in Black reference! But as I have been a consistent workout partner of Ole JT for over a year now, I have a different, but equally appropriate picture in my mind:
ReplyDeletehttp://youtu.be/enqNl7tdLR4
Both accurate depictions. For those who bothered to watch the video, I'm the Caddy. Swimming is a miniscule society, and for those in it, the "thick in the middle, and slightly askew, mentally" comment in reference to distance swimmers is roll on the floor funny, trust me! It seems I have befallen the opposite fate as Mr. Marlow. I was once an endurance machine. In college, 10,000 meter workouts rolled off my back. I went 3150 yards on a T-30 (30 minute swim for distance). Now? I got one good set in me, then it's basically the final 15 minutes of a bad episode of True Hollywood Stories. Sure, I could blame a decade's worth of malted hops and bong resin, but...actually, that may indeed be to blame. So, when we do actually sit down to max out, it will be a bizarre confluence of warm up methodologies at play, but the hope is that the results will be commensurate.