4-2-1 got lost in translation!

Destination 195 is officially rebooted. The hashtag will be #D195-3.0 for those following The ODJ on his Twitter @The_ODJ or those on the open road can catch updates via our CB radio handle Psycho Billy Cadillac. Everyone else is invited to continue checking in on this circus blog.

This week things got serious quickly! I arrived to the gym to find Jaron's evil series of stability workouts crept out of the black hole they were exiled to in late 2012. When Destination 195 2.0 launched in August of that same year, my first workouts were all stability. I am a man of few curse words during this season of my life, but I combo dropped them on multiple occasions during stability phase. When pressed to describe to the layman I usually liken it to full body straining to poop while clinching the butt cheeks together on a partially deflated beach ball.  (Experiences may vary).

In reality Body by ODJ calls for stability every six months. As Jaron preaches; "You have to reintroduce your new body to your old mind every so often." I'll leave the science to the professional
(check out his comment.) Unlike 2012, this go around of "back to the basics" workouts include Jaron in town. It's nice to have him walk me through each exercise for proper form and weight selection. I am able to ramp up form and technique quicker with his coaching. However, this go around uncovered a massive miscommunication from 2012... 4-2-1.

The first official morning back felt good; I had recently bought my ticket for the wagon, the diet train was firing up, and Jaron had a formal workout on paper to keep us honest. That honeymoon sure went sour quick. Each rep in stability is done in a 4-2-1 pattern. 4 count down, 2 count hold at top, and a 1 count to get to the top. OH. M. GOODNIGHT!!! This might be first world pain, but it is brain aneurysm in the near future pain. Here comes night sweats and the fear.

Manternity pants and oatmeal pies

We're back and many pounds to the heavier!!!

Oh man was it a great spring to early summer break. Jaron celebrated his 40th birthday in classy Mexican resort style and then sustained a major thumb injury playing Tim "The Toolman" Taylor with a power something-something tool. I on the other hand slacked off from weights, swimming, blogging, and proper portion control. The proven formula for a rising scale. 231 lbs. as of last weigh in. That number is inexcusably high for a recovering fat guy. To make matters worse, it is four pounds shy of the mandated death sentence to this digital rag. Supposedly Jaron put a clause in the No Fat Jokes Please contract that gave him the right to nuke the blog if I again balloon to a plump 235. I'll trust his memory -- Heaven knows I have the retention capacity of the All-American Alzheimer spelling bee team.

In all honesty I kinda like Fat Jarvis. He is jollier between the ranges of 210-225. Unfortunately, Jaron, the prince of peer pressure, drops beat downs like Iron Mike Tyson (pre-face tattoo.) To add to the ego bruising the ole lady starts to give me the universal "this thing is gaining gravitational strength" belly rubs. The accompanying facial expression is kind of a sarcastic duck face with a "just saying" eye roll. That's when Fat Jarvis flees to the individually wrapped arms of another woman. Oh sweet Little Debbie!

Debbie has never judged me! She knows me. She loves me for who I am. Unlike my dear wife, who cares for my health and refuses to be seen with a fatty, Debbie's discs of oatmeal and cream are unrelenting. She usually takes me over the 230 mark; forcing Fun Jarvis to dust off his manternity pants.

Fat Jarvis's wardrobe stash is the last line of defense before buying larger sizes. I can handle the wife's sneers. I can even handle the harassing text messages from Jaron. But I cannot stomach buying more clothes. I'm a middle-class, middle-aged American male! We don't buy more clothes than we need to have in a three week wash cycle. Our founding fathers did not fight the tyranny of the king to have it all lost to the sirens song of a devil temptress... I SHALL TREAD ON THEE DEBBIE!!!