Time to execute on your plan

I don't use an alarm clock. I tend to go to bed when I'm tired and get up when I'm ready to take on the day. If I feel I need a little more rest, I try to go to sleep a little earlier. So, every day, without fail, I get up between 5a and 6a. Much closer to 5a on the week days and a little closer to 6a on the weekends. This does NOT mean I pop out of bed and spring out the door, hungrily looking to take on the day. It just means I'm a creature of habit, and my habit is to get up and go to the gym. Today, I woke up and more out of habit, than desire, my feet went to the floor before my brain could "encourage" another 15 minutes of "closed eye meditation." My Fridays have turned into these ritualistic attempts to see lower and lower numbers on the scale, while being aware they are not accurate representations of my true weight. In fact, I'd preach to anyone that would listen, stop looking at the scale and go by how you feel and how your clothes feel on you. But, even I can get lured into scale watching. Three weeks ago on a Sunday, my buddy was impressed with my athleticism and THEN added "for your size, it's incredible." I weighed in at 258 lbs and knew that was too much, but have always put much more focus on my work in the gym, than in the kitchen. So, he challenged me to see 250 lbs on the scale by Friday, just a scant 4.5 days later. He thought I'd see much more of the athletic performance in the gym that I was digging, if I helped my body out and lost some fat. Challenge accepted. Like I said, I'm a creature of habit. My changing my mindset and setting a goal, my new focus was pushing even harder in the gym and focusing on mobility, while keeping that focus on my food intake when I was out of the gym. No more bread. No more sugar. Minimal carbs. Minimal fruit. Essentially, lean proteins, veggies, and a one to two servings of fruit, and one carb a day. That Friday, I weighed in at 248 lbs. Largely, that was the effort I had put in, a good portion was water weight, as I pushed a harder cardio-centric workout and minimized my water intake. But, my goal was to see 250 on the scale. An act I would not have been able to see that previous Sunday. So, every Friday has become a terrorizing cario-centric workout with the goal to get my weight down a little more each week. Today, I saw 241. 17 lbs in 19 days. Not too bad. I know that every week will be a little less, as I have a great deal of muscle and less fat to lose. But, my overall goal is typically 5 lbs at a time to see how I feel, look, and perform. When I find the right combination to me, and I'm happy, I know I'll be all the better for it. Regarding the diet...it's hard to really call it that. I'm not on a diet. I eat healthier. During the week, I'm extremely focused and vigilant on my food intake, just as I am on my exercise output. On the weekends, especially, as the warmer weather encourages more social gatherings, I relax a bit. I know I'll put the work in and make the healthy choices where I can. But, I'm not afraid of a little beer and wine. So, find your focus. Find your goals. Let me know if I can help you. Because, in turn, I know that helps me. Be Strong.

Did I mention the Turkey Legs???

It's not the destination, but the journey.

That's a creed a lot of Harley enthusiasts live by. Same is true for gym enthusiasts. Because, whether you are a bodybuilder, a powerlifter, a mom staying in shape, a sprinter, an avid 10K runner, or just your basic gym rat, I have news for you. You will never be done. You had better like the ride, or better yet, LOVE the ride. We are in a sense, artists. Our medium, is our bodies. We will constantly be striving for one more rep, one more mile, one more minute, one more inch. The day we look at ourselves and think, "Ah ha! THIS is what I've been striving for. I'm finished." We have given ourselves over to mediocrity.

Having said that, I traveled down to Lake Elsinore this past weekend and competed in my first ever Warrior Dash. The trip itself was its own blog. If you are interested, let me know. I'd be happy to share.

If you are a runner and can successfully navigate yourself over the hood of a car, a la Dukes of Hazzard, you can do this race. It is filled with many a knuckleheads, and I say this with respect and affection. This is a motley crew of people who love to challenge themselves. People who aren't living by the boiled chicken breast and broccoli, but those that put in the hard work and know they have earned themselves a few beers and maybe a turkey leg, to boot.

Please, check out their site, because Warrior Dash is coming to a city near you. If they aren't, I'm sure if you contacted them and let them know you are itching for them to visit your town, they'll put a plan together to make that happen or point you to the closest one. This being the first of the year, I'm sure you have plenty of time to get yourself in Dash-shape.

Race day is filled with energy, excitement, pulsing rock music, and characters. Everyone was encouraging, supportive, and motivating. The race itself is split into multiple heats, consisting of 500 people per heat. You see the muddy, sweaty competitors and know they have already completed the course. A part of you will be itching to get out there, but another part of you is envious. Because, they are finished and finished means there is beer and a turkey leg. Did I mention the turkey legs before? I'm sorry, but that is just savage. Walking around with beer and a turkey leg, while covered in sweat and mud just screams bad ass. Plus, if you are able to meet someone there who is STILL into you after that, take them home to Mom and Dad. Because, that kicks eHarmony's ass. You aren't going to find a better match.

The minutes leading up to your heat, the race announcer begins his torment. Challenging each racer to be the day's champion. or at the very least, earn that beer. It becomes apparent, we all have the same reward in mind. Some lackluster stretching, some shared grins, a few uneasy nods, and the race begins. You get funneled through the shoot, and thoughts of cattle being rustled to the slaughter run through your mind faster than your feet are moving. The run itself starts off great. Cat calling, whooping, cheering, and a few jokes about "are we finished?" replace the thumping music. The pack itself slowly stretches itself out and more and more, the runners are separated from the funners. I quickly deduce I'm solidly in the latter group.

I mentally use each stretch of trail as a way to gauge how far I have traversed and am certain I have reached halfway, when I hit the first obstacle. That doesn't match up with my earlier study of the map, which shows the first obstacle is securely in the 3/4 mile mark. Oooph. A long, hot, Southern California afternoon awaits me. Obstacles gave way to long stretches, gave way to obstacles, gave way to longer stretches. The official obstacles included large hay stacks, junkyard cars, fences, cargo nets, balance beams, tire/high steps, jumping in the lake to straddle spinning logs, leaping fire, and finally, the mud swamp with barbed wire. The unofficial obstacles were heat, soft footing, bad shoes, years of dead lifts, lack of running for training, and missing a motorized vehicle!

I was fortunate enough to run the race with my sister in law and couldn't have been happier with my partner. She was strong all the way through and very motivating. Her only Achilles heel was her lack of ability to down her one free beer. Since, she was so great at being my partner in the field, I had to return the favor and kill her beer for her.

This October, Warrior Dash is making a trek to Northern California. I'll be participating in that one, as well. I breezed over the "characters" aspect earlier. But, I'd be remiss if I didn't say they helped make the day. There was a mini Ultimate Warrior from 80s wrestling fame, a few Mexican wrestlers (lucha libres), several traditional Vikings, a 6'2" Hooters girl, numerous cheerleaders, and thousands of would be Warriors Dashing and having fun.

As you know, I'm a lifter. I like to feel the iron in my hand and move things that don't like to be moved. I took this challenge to keep me out of my comfort zone and I encourage everyone to do the same. In this case, the thing that didn't want to move was me! I valued the experience and am looking forward to the next one. I challenge you to find your inner Warrior.

Welcome to Houston

So, what do they say about Texas?

You guessed it. Everything’s bigger in Texas. A saying that I heard several times walking around the Houston Gym. Apparently, they really want Californians to know that. So, I promised I would come back and bring that home for them. I'll say it once more, just to make sure. Everything's bigger in Texas.

Now, that I fulfilled that obligation, how about we get to my experience with my Iron Brothers in Houston?!

I learned my lesson from Scottsdale and phoned ahead to speak with Matt in Memberships. This guy was awesome. He was very accommodating and extremely open to the experience. In fact, he let me know they would put me up with one of their big guys. This guy is a nationally qualified power lifter and very up for the challenge of putting me through a workout.

I definitely had a thought or two scurry across my mind that I had, perhaps, bitten off more than I could chew!

I arrived early Thursday morning and met up with a big, surly faced slab of meat that had his game face on. We exchanged some obligatory “you look goods,” and complimented each other in a vanilla sort of way that we could save face if the other kicked our ass. I had a nagging shoulder pain, but opted to not share it with John. I didn’t want to have any excuses and to John’s credit, he didn’t share any ailments with me.

I feel it is important to share any athlete, at any time, is probably in some sort of pain. Baseball players, football players, mma fighters, runners, tennis players, and definitely lifters have pain at any given time. But, that’s what makes a great athlete. Having the ability to listen to your body, understand your limits, and push through them regardless is what will differentiate you from your competition.

John, as my host, cordially allowed me to pick the body part. I politely encouraged him to pick the body part and lead the way, as he is the host and I’m a guest in his house. He inquired to what I had already done this week, and I give him the option of picking shoulders (please, no!) or legs. I had already been warned that I would be coupled with a NATIONALLY QUALIFIED powerlifter. So, I wasn’t exactly chomping at the bit to take him on in legs, either.

As a powerlifter would, he opts for legs and asks me to lead the way.

We walk over to the squat rack and I can tell, Thursdays, like Thursdays in all gyms all over the world, are shoulder days. So, we have the squat rack to ourselves. He gives nods to those around and I can see the smirk spread across his face. I stretch my quads and hams for a bit, while I see him hold court with some of the regulars. He introduces me to a few friendly faces and I smile and shake hands. He seems to have a lot of admirers.

Yeah? Well, me too, in my gym, Johnny.

John asks if it is okay if Kyle works out with us, but next to us, as he won’t be doing our weights. Of course, the more the merrier, Kyle.

I slap on a plate to each side (135 lbs) and begin my warm up set. Kyle smiles and asks if maybe he and I should share the same rack. Kyle’s got jokes!

John decides to wait until my second set when I add a second plate (225 lbs), to begin his warm up. We each power through 15 reps and I can feel the blood surge through my legs. I come up fast on the last rep and begin to see stars. I remember to pace myself, as I slap on the third set of plates (315). I push through 12 and see John has no issue keeping up. 405, we each hit 8 reps. I stretch my legs and add a 5th plate (495). Kyle’s jokes have gotten REALLY quiet! I push 8 out and see John’s face take on a new look of determination. He pushes 6, but between you and I, they were a shaky 6. I really felt that last set and if I was at home, I might have been considering stopping there.

I’m not at home. I’m in Houston, Texas. Things are bigger here, I hear.

I grab quarters this time to take me to 545 lbs. I feel every rep and am concerned my form falters a bit, but after squeezing 6 reps, I know I’ve started my legs well. John looks at me, looks at the rack, back to me and asks me to strip the quarters to take him back down to 495. I smile as I do so, but encouragingly tell him to “PUSH!” as he moves through his set. Between lifters...we both knew I won.

Kyle stands silently beside me as John works. When John gets through 3 shaky reps and I help him rack his weight, Kyle asks me how long I’ve been lifting and what I eat. I'm slowly stealing John's admirers!

John asks what we have next, and assures me he is game for whatever I throw at him.
By the end, we did squats, front squats, dead lifts, lunges, leg presses, leg extensions, stiff legged deads, and leg curls. John’s game seriously fell off and he went white halfway through. Three quarters the way through, he threw up. That’s when we lost Kyle. I dry heaved, but maintained composure. Kyle was sure we had some serious issues.

I came to this gym with some high hopes and I was not disappointed. John was a gamer and an a savage. Even after giving up his breakfast, he pushed through.

Houston Gym was a fantastic gym and an independently owned one. The staff was amazing and everyone was extremely hospitable. I fully endorse the gym and encourage anyone who is in Houston to go by and give them a try.

Having said that...this time, everything was not bigger in Texas!

Scottsdale Trip - March

ManVsGym trekked out to Scottsdale this week on my maiden voyage to take on the local lifting scene. I quickly learned this is going to be a learning experience.
I knew there were a few local gyms that might be a little more to my liking. But, my research really didn’t turn up too much on where to go and if anyone would be interested. So, like most bullheaded people, I decided to just go and ask around when I was in town.

The most popular suggested gym where people take physical fitness serious, was Scottsdale’s own, LA Fitness. Based on their suggestion, I decided to give them a call and let them know my plan. As much as I am excited about visiting local gyms, identifying regional strongmen, and having them put me through their workouts, I was unprepared for the lackluster response on the other side. I had to explain myself several times, before an exhausted “Activities Director,” told me I was more than welcome to come down and work out for the day for $20. I thanked her for her understanding and motivating attitude and was on my way.

I met with the gym’s manager when I walked in and decided to try, again. Blank stares and long pauses encouraged me to pay the $20 and make my own friends in the club. I decided to walk around and survey the local talent and was immediately impressed by some very large guys, and one particularly intimidating woman! It didn’t take long for me to identify the resident “loud” guy who clanked weights in an attempt to have everyone take notice that he was working on dusting off some dumbbells and, perhaps, making some mating calls. I watched him survey himself in the mirror and then his eyes as they swept the background to see who was watching him, before he fell back and pushed some dumbbells for a flat bench.

When I was sure he was finished, I walked up and struck up a conversation. I complimented him on his weight manipulation and asked if the 120 lb dumbbells on the end of the rack were indeed the gym’s largest dumbbells and if he would be on a mission to lift them. He didn’t seem pleased to be spending too much time with me, but I was successful in learning his name was Wes, and only a handful of people had graduated to those weights for a flat chest, and he was among that class. I took note of his clean, pressed outfit and gelled hair, and ascertained he was more concerned about his aesthetics, than the actual poundage he was capable of. Not to be deterred, I was sure I found my boy!

A few compliments on his prestige and power, and I successful engaged him in a challenge to see how many reps we could squeeze out in an attempt to one up the other. He assured me his target of 8 would be reached, while I encouraged I would get him to 9 or 10. After a few rounds of, “no no, you firsts,” I took the weights in hand to bat lead off. I eyed the weights with confidence and felt that inner demon urge me to take this to a place he had never seen before. I gracefully rocked backwards with my weight in my chest and immediately pushed toward the heavens when my shoulders made contact with the bench. I glanced up and looked at a doubtful Wes, who seemed to be more interested in the ladies doing shoulder presses on the next bench, then a shit disturbing Californian intent on taking him out of his comfort zone. Finding a nice steady pace, I felt the blood flow into the chest, and through my triceps. Focusing on each rep and barely taking notice of the number of reps, I quickly found myself pushing up 25 reps, when I saw Wes walk away out of my peripheral. I wondered if the ladies on the next bench had left, too. Surely, Wes wasn’t quitting on me before he started.

I pushed another five, to get me to an even 30, before re-racking my weights. I backed away and noticed a small group of young guys watching intently. I smiled broadly and gave them a nod.

“Do you guys know Wes?” I inquired.
“Not really. He’s kind of a dick.”

I decided if they’ve given up on Wes, it was okay for me to give up on him, too. Wes is not going to be a guy who will ever be concerned with how much he can put up, as much as he probably wonders if he can get a guest spot on Jersey Shore II.
I talk with the group of young guys and they let me know it’s a great gym, with really good people, for the most part. They enjoy working out there and they are really good at pushing themselves. They may never be huge guys, but they have big hearts and they love to challenge themselves. I spend the remainder of my time with them giving them tips and encouragement on setting and obtaining their goals.
On a side note, one of the guys, Kelly, has a roommate who is quite the lifter and loves to challenge himself with the weights. In fact, he has done a few strongmen and maybe I’d heard of him. It turns out, his roommate is Kevin Nee. For those of you who don’t know, Kevin Nee has competed in the World’s Strongest Man five times and one of the few Americans who have made it to the finals. Kelly asks when I’m town next, would I like to meet with Kevin and go to his power lifting gym to work out with him.

What an honor! Hopefully, he’ll let me bring Wes.