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[Запись для всех] 01-12-2014 15:49
Last Night @ The Party...
Kids' Party, That Is)))
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[Запись для всех] 01-09-2008 10:44
I'm Like A Bird...
...disrespectfully cheery and outrageously chirpy today. The result, no doubt, of two high carbs days. And when I said HIGH, I meant piled-up, heaped-up feast of gargantuan standards(to list just a few things on my week end menu: two cakes - chocolate gateau and tiramisu; five pieces of fried bread with butter and jam; fried potatoes; fish'n'chips; mangoes and strawberries, etc...).
Even though bloody thing ("Harbour", that is) ain't working A-G-A-I-N.
Cardio so far today:
1. 7 miles walk to work.
2. 50 mins on the tread mill at work.
Cardio later in the afternoon:
7 miles walk back home.

Resistance training session in the "Muscle Limit Gym" tonight - CHEST.

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[Запись для всех] 31-08-2008 08:55
Last Morning Of Summer.
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[Запись для всех] 30-08-2008 15:20
One down...
...one to go...
Another photo session is out of the way. Feel like have done twelve rounds with Mike Tyson(probably, look like it, too - all my legs and arms are bruised black-and-blue for some unexplicable reason). With a good cause, anyway: the photogapher, Eric, is a former heavy weight British boxing champion.
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[Запись для всех] 29-08-2008 07:24
Carry On... Regardless...
Whether "Harbour" is moody or broody, or downright beastly and rough; if it’s glitching, or bitching or, stringing us along, or keeping away for the sake of sheer excitement of being allowed back in, ALL of it is of the secondary importance to me. For, I still do what I've always done best: training, eating, sleeping. Working as well (you'd better not ask how the latter is going and how much of it I manage to load onto my, admittedly, NOT so fragile shoulders ). Another photo shoot tomorrow, and the last one (hopefully) the following week end, Friday, October the 5th.
After that - just more of the same old. "Training. Eating. Sleeping". Being a die-hard muscle freak, you see, I do not believe in life outside pumping iron

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[Запись для всех] 27-08-2008 07:29
Nature Mort Of Hard Wear and Tupper Wear.

My office desk at half six in the morning.
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[Запись для всех] 26-08-2008 07:49
LoveLEE-BubbLEE.
It's not just my flamboyant personality this heading refers to. It's what I regularly get up to every morning. Well, almost.
I would’ve even presented astonished gathering of friends and foes with graphical demonstration, but, on the top of VERY early morning cardio session, it's too much of a hassle to photograph one's own torso, cocooned into layers and layers of bubble wrap at four o'clock in the morning. And picture of Lee Priest, as my faithful, X-training-at-dawn, motivator, taken from computer screen (I watch all my DVDs on Apple Mac) would've been completely obliterated by the camera flash in the dark conservatory.
So you just have to take my word for it.

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[Запись для всех] 25-08-2008 08:49
Self-similar syncopations: Fibonacci, L-systems, Limericks, etc.
Have to admit - I started with the latter. Studying "Limericks" for the second day on the row and trying to write some.
Sample of famous limerick by Edward Lear:

"There was an Old Man with a beard,
Who said, "It is just as I feared! -
Two Owls and a Hen,
Four Larks and a Wren,
Have all built their nests in my beard!"


What's a "Limerick"? It's a form of poetic rhyme. Making its first appearance a little over a century ago, the lure of the limerick is such that it has grown to become one of the world's most popular verse forms. There is something strangely appealing and intuitively "natural" about its slightly skewed symmetry.
Underlying stress patterns in the metre of the limerick, using "di" for an unstressed syllable and "dum" for a stressed one like this:
"di dum di di dum di di dum
di dum di di dum di di dum
di dum di di dum
di dum di di dum
di dum di di dum di di dum "
Apparently, this pattern of stressed and unstressed syllables belongs to the well known Fibonacci series: 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34 ... where each successive number is the sum of the two preceding numbers. Mathematics are not my strongest point or my favourite cup of tea any time of the day (I love mine black and strong, with lemon, jam and thick toasted bread-and butter ), so I better get on with the task at hand and stimulate the old grey matter ("Grave Matter" , as my son used to say, when he was young ).
So far I've come up with just this:

There was a young lady from London,
Who trained in a gym with abandon.
If she missed a day,
She'd always complain,
That her muscles would grow at random.


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[Запись для всех] 22-08-2008 15:40
"There Is Only One Click... ...
... from love to hatred".
Pretty self-evident axiom and rings true every time I am trying to get onto "Harbour" web-site.
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[Запись для всех] 18-08-2008 10:21
Feeling Pi**s**sed Off.
If you are anything like me(i.e. GREEDY ) and gobbling the whole bunch of parsley before bed time doesn't strike you as particularly stupid thing to do, do not moan, then, if you've got your beauty sleep broken by the bursting bladder and the need to rush down the loo every half hour, urged by repeated and very pressing(literally) calls of nature. It didn't stop in the morning either, and I had to interrupt my usual stroll to work by mad dashes from one public toilet to another. Good thing there are quiet a few of them, or I might've end up in the wet pants otherwise. But then, again, it wouldn't have made any difference whatsoever, for, the weather decided to join the mood, and it's been pissing down from the sky the whole morning.
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[Запись для всех] 17-08-2008 15:28
Food A-G-A-I-N.
To my defence - I've been severely tested and tempted by Sofia's 1964 description of preparation and consumption of the same dish. Failed to resist and simply had to succumb.

Chicken thighs.
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Veggies.
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Rice.
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The process.

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End result.
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[Запись для всех] 16-08-2008 14:30
Food Of The Day.
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Bon Appetite!
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[Запись для всех] 15-08-2008 10:29
The Art Of Being Smart.
Just a few toughts on reading a few (QUITE a few!!!) of today's entries.


What's so difficult and objectionable about smart exercise and right eating, anyway, especially when the rewards and benefits are so great?
It's not like one had to eat mice and lice and drink ginger spice. It's not like one was addicted to Camels, Champaign and crack cocaine and had to abstain.

We're talking about yummy, yummy, good for the tummy [tantalizing,energizing and muscularizing]: meat, fish, poultry and milk products,fresh vegetables and fruits in moderation and order. He, or she, need to exercise regularly and with good intentions, not dig trenches on the borders of Pakistan and Afghanistan, or potty-train lions, tigers and bears in the wild.

Got life? Workout, eat smart, be strong, be happy, be respectful, be worthy, be sure!

The most difficult and objectionable thing about smart exercise and right eating is getting started. The knowledge needed to start and get rolling, build up speed and put in the miles is not hidden or complicated. It's the basics, always the basics, from here to
eternity. I don't know anyone who is or has been a champion who needed special knowledge to become great.

Understanding... well, that's another matter altogether. Though confused with knowledge, understanding is discernment, awareness and perception -- an invaluable byproduct that only comes with time and guts, consistency and practice, observation and trial and error. Take pleasure in gaining understanding because growth is its faithful and constant companion. You, yourself, might be amazed and pleased at the end result, and at how good a mental and physical hortiCULTURIST you turned out to be.
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[Запись для всех] 14-08-2008 06:50
Weekly Training Log.
Sunday.
Back.

Monday.
Arms + Calves.

Tuesday.
Chest.

Wednsday.
Off.

Thursday.
Hams.

Friday.
Deltoids+Calves.

Saturday.
Quads.

Sunday.
Off.


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[Запись для всех] 10-08-2008 14:23
LEGS - RULE!!!
Today's Training.

Cardio in the morning. 45mins. on the X-trainer @ home.

Legs in the "Muscle Limit Gym":

1. Superset One.

Leg Extensions+Leg Curls. 5 X max.

2. Superset Two.
Leg Presses+ DB Lunges. 5 X max. (went to 300kg on the leg press machine).

3.Superset Three.
Stiff-Legged Dead Lifts + DB Stair Walk.

4. Superset Four.
Sissy Squats using Roman Chair + Hyperextensions.
4 X max.

This entry is optimistically fake. I meant to write down a really macabre and gloomy one. About how fed up and tired I am, and how more and more out of place I feel here, and what a bore it is reading the same stuf about "being fat" @ 54 (and less) kilos, all those "new starts" and "It's my last chance" screams, fabulous diets ( leading to nothing more, then frustration, weight gain and depression), etc., etc., etc. At the end charitably decided against it and stayed with my legs training instead.
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[Запись для всех] 08-08-2008 13:30
Just Birds.
On the way to work today.

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I was siting on the grass next to the fountain and eating egg-whites omelet.
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[Запись для всех] 07-08-2008 07:17
You're Sooooooooooooo THIGH-ny.
Well, I've never been tiny, anyway.
Last night's THIGH training.

Superset One.
Lying Leg Curls + OneLegged Squats (off the bench). 5 X max. each.


Superset Two.
Stiff Legged BB Dead Lifts + DB Lunges. 4 X max. each.

ABS.
Hanging Leg Raises. 3 X max.

Cardio.
45 min. Incline Treadmill Walk.

PS. There is VERY distinct smell of freshly baked bread in the gym today. How odd...


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[Запись для всех] 06-08-2008 08:45
Green To My Gills.
First, because it's fish day today, and it's never a good news. Hunger and bad mood - guaranteed.
Second thing - it's my period (about a week early) and it makes everything even worse.
Third is the weather; fourth - legs' training tonight; fifth - our current fanincial state; sixth - seventh,... ...eighth ... ... ... I could go on forever, well into "hundredth", probably, moaning for Britain, but what's the use? Better take a deep breath, say "Ommmmmm" and get on with life.

Morning cardio: 45 mins. on the X-trainer @home.
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[Запись для всех] 05-08-2008 10:28
Cardio. Food. etc.
CARDIO:
Yesterday. 45mins. on the X-trainer @home.
7 miles walk to work.
7 miles walk back home.

Today. 45 mins. on the X-trainer @ home.
1 hour incline tread mill walk @ work.

FOOD:

Yesterday. 100g of porridge, made with boiled water.
10 egg whites omelet.
800g of white fish, boiled, divided between four meals.
250ml carb-free protein drink before bed.
Cucumber, broccoli.

Today. 250ml carb-free protein drink after first cardio work out.
10 egg whites omelet.
600g of grilled turkey breast mince,
divided between four meals.
Celery, broccoli.


RESISTANCE.

Deltoids and Calves tonight.
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[Запись для всех] 03-08-2008 08:49
It's "FM"!
And it's C-A-P-I-T-A-L !!!
It's not radio station, as some might think. It's simply an alteration (hope not an altercation! ) between "FISH" days and "MEAT" days in my diet plan for the next month. Till 5th of September.
Week one: ffm, ffm, f.
Week two: ffm,fff,m.
Week three: fff, mff,f.
Week four: mff, ffm, f.
Week five: fff, m. A-N-D - FINAL PHOTOSHOOT!!!
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[Запись для всех] 01-08-2008 07:12
To See or to Be Seen...
Got the CD with ALL the pictures from first two photosessions. Dunno if it's wise to familiarize great-and-witty, but, oh, so fork-tongued on-line circle of friends. Quite possible will keep it to myself this time.
Just kidding, of course. Expect unexpected.

Update.

Food for the day. (Tuna).
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Training so far.

Cardio.
X-trainer @home. 30mins @ 4am.
Treadmill incline walk @ work. 1 hour.

Resistance.
Superset of Chin Ups and Cable bicep curls. 4 X max. each.
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[Запись для всех] 31-07-2008 07:40
GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR...
EVERYTHING annoys and irritates me today.
Oh, well, one of those days...



More optimistic Update Number One:
1.Early cardio: 45 minutes on the X-trainer@home (4:30 in the morning).
2. Meal one (straight after the work out). 75g of porridge made with boiled water.
3. Meal two (at work). 75g of the same porridge+100g of fat-free "Quark".
3. Mid-morning cardio: 50 mins. of incline tread mill walk in the gym.
4. Meal three. 150g of grilled turkey breast mince+steamed broccoli.
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[Запись для всех] 22-07-2008 07:19
Like Me?
Like My Man!!! Not in the least for the fact that it's his Birthday today.
Many Happy Returns, darlin'...


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[Запись для всех] 21-07-2008 07:40
A Little re-ASSurance...
...goes a long way.
Want an example? Nothing could be easier. My last night's VERY informative (to say the least) in-between sets conversation with Big Jeff, a bodybuilder, an estate busines owner and a TV commercials' model.
J, paffing and haffing (doing very fast reps on the leg extensions machine): "You gotta to warm up really well, if you've got knee problems."
Me, waiting for Alex to finish his set on the cable cross-over: "Yeah. Alex's the same. Takes him up to half-an-hour to go through all his warm up exercises."
J. "Comes from having long legs, that's the trouble."
Me. "I am lucky, then. Mine are short." (Demonstrating, turning sideways and flexing my quads.)
J. (I think he completely missed the bit about "short" and concentrated on my legs'...erm... other qualities instead.) "I gotta say one thing:out of ALL the women in this gym, you've got the best shaped legs a-n-d the best ASS!!!"

Well, I suppose, I asked for it, didn't I?

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[Запись для всех] 20-07-2008 06:52
Last Sunday Of Freedom.
Before a week and a half of double shifts. Fourteen hours every day! And period on the top.
Want to have a quiete and reflective day before the madness start.
Reading - D.H. Lawrence's "Lady Chatterley's Lover" and William Wordsworth's "Prelude".
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[Запись для всех] 18-07-2008 07:20
Friday Monologue In front Of The Gym Mirror...
I am talking to myself. And it's NOT a good sign.

My job, if I have a job, is to encourage and inform, and be a companion to my brother and sisters iron heads. It can get lonely out there, especially when it's been a tedious day at work and you must pass your homebound exit on the way to the gym. We all need a nudge, a nod of approval, an occasional kick in the pants; and we need to know what we are doing is right on.


Stop and think about it: When those bewildered normal folks ask why we lift weights year after year, the fear of a scene like this is probably the answer. Of course we can't discount neurotic obsession and the desire for cannonball delts, barn door lats, bulging biceps, horseshoe triceps, rippling pecs, six-pack abs, sweeping thighs, diamond-shape calves and the power of a gorilla as being somewhat influential. We're really no different from everyone else.



"You're doing a great job by just being here. Most folks note, as the years have gone by, their health and fitness have been compromised by the priorities of daily living: career, work, family and everyday tough knocks. Disappointed, they ignore the larger-than-life dilemma because strengthening and reconditioning look unlikely and the pathway unlikable. It takes courage to put the past behind you and take the hard steps forward. Procrastination, deeply etched bad habits, apathy, distractions and entertainment conveniently
and destructively block bold self-confrontation and subsequent evitalization.

"You're here. Having defeated your tired old self, you are past the front door, in your training gear and amid the smell and clang, the power and energy of the ‘ol iron. You're a dern hero. Lesser folks are home watching Reality TV and eating their take away dinners.

"You're way ahead of the game; you know your way around, having a good memory for memorable deeds and things: barbells and dumbbells, sets and reps, biceps and shoulders -- exertion and exhaustion, pump and pain, fulfillment and failure. They're all here just like they were before, especially the good feeling you get when the workout isdone. Look out world, here I come!

"Enjoy yourself. Ease into your workouts. Play for awhile.
Recall your favorite exercises and give them a go -- a good tug, a careful push, a thoughtful lift. Do nothing excessive. A curious trial, a sensible challenge and a sometimes vague practice will prepare your body, excite your mind and set you in motion. You don't need any opposition during these early days of revival, like injury, undue pain, soreness or body limitations. Expect too much and try too hard and you risk developing bitterness toward training by overexertion, hurry, sloppy performance, poor concentration and
unrealistic expectations.

"Be optimistic. Your training attitude and approach are fresh and pliable and subject to persuasion. Be positive from the next vigorous set onward. Treat negative thinking as you would the devil or the terrorist. Stop him in his tracks. The gym, the weights, the adventure of building muscle, strength and health were once fascinating, exciting and fulfilling. Ah, the good old days! They possess and offer the same qualities today, and much more. This stuff
is tough, but it's the good tough. Wrap your hands around the bars and your head around the mission.

"Be encouraged. In a week or two, as you adjust and recall and
reestablish and plan, consciously and unconsciously, you'll slip into
a routine that suits your needs, desires and timetable. Remember:
Check high technology and rocket science and magic and tricks at the
front counter. Stick to the basics, the oldies but goodies, the tried
and true, the real McCoys. They are not old-fashioned. They're as fresh and crisp as apples from the apple tree.

"Be persistent. Anything less will mean failure, and you've come too far. When the going gets tough, keep going. If you don't, you go nowhere fast. Herein lies the enemy: guilt,discouragement, embarrassment and, last but not least,improvementlessness. New word, old condition.

"Be consistent. I repeat, be consistent. Ask anyone who's been around the iron for 30, 40 or 50 years and they'll insist consistency in training performance is the key to strength and healthy musclebuilding. Miss a workout and you miss 10; miss 10 workouts and you miss 10 years... if ya know what I mean. The wonderful muscle, strength and health advancement in before you will vanish like the morning due on the apple tree.

"Gains come slowly, but they keep on coming, day after day, workout
after workout. You can't always see them, like money in your piggybank, but they're there, gems in your safety deposit box.

"Be confident... Knowing things will happen and are happening -- losing bodyfat, building muscle tissue, increasing strength, energy and health -- is the essential mental quantity of this physical process.

"Certain your aspirations are sensible and your efforts are well
invested, your mood and hopes rise. You feel better than ever, you can move more easily, you look forward to work and hardy recreation,
you're cheery and self-assured; you can once again really-truly relax,smile and smell the flowers and hear the children laugh and notice the warmth in your sweetheart's eyes.

"Training's hot; the iron is cool, the people who lift are
real, exercise works and I guarantee you'll start eating right as you
hoist the steel regularly. Hard training and right eating, they go
together like chicken and rice, like beef and potatoes, like tuna and sweet corn. Or, to be more poetic - like wind and wings."

Display of my morning activites. I am not JUST talking.
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[Запись для всех] 17-07-2008 17:29
Back to Reality.
And Welcome, Normality.

Yesterday's Training.
1.Morning Cardio. 50mins. of Incline Treadmil Wlak.
2. Weight Work Out. Chest.
3. Afternoon Cardio. 40 mins. of Incline Treadmill Walk.



Today.
1. Morning Cardio. 45 mins. of Boxing.
2. Afternoon Cardio. 7 miles Walk Home.
3. Resistance Training Later @ Night. Deltoids and Calves.
4. Possible Cardio Session at Home. About 45 mins. on the X-trainer.
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[Запись для всех] 17-07-2008 07:09
"Appetite For Destruction"...
... was "Guns'n'Roses" 1987 album's name. Great tracks, by the way!
Dunno about the "destruction", not sure there is enough vindictive force in me. But whatever I don't know about the "APPETITE", probably not worth knowing. OR, it simply does not exist.
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[Запись для всех] 15-07-2008 07:35
InFATuation.
New stage of dieting: upping my fats. For the next two weeks, till the third and, hopefully, final photo shoot carb depletion will reach it's’ lowest, sub- zero point and, to avoid getting into a catabolic state and see my physique deteriorating before my very eyes, the lard consumption will soar, as a consequence. I already started yesterday. My “hefty” carbohydrate intake consisted of half-a-pound of fresh British strawberries (some temptations are just too much to overcome, aren’t they?), but the rest of the daily menu could’ve been quite rightly called “culinary FATish” : egg whites fried in butter (French “President”, my absolute favourite); chicken breasts with cream-and-pepper souse; two large pan-fried beef steaks and salmon fillets with cream cheese. At the end of those proposed two weeks, with all the grease to process, you wouldn’t need to bother with buttering me up. I’ll be as slick, as an oil-stick.
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[Запись для всех] 03-07-2008 05:32
Occupational Hazard.
It was a long, hard and busy day yesterday. Looks like today I am in for another hefty helping of the same. Wish me luck. AND patience. (Definition of the latter from the dictionary.com: "The capacity of enduring hardship or inconvenience without complaint." )
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[Запись для всех] 01-07-2008 22:34
What Could Be Better...
...than the full blast back training @ 10 pm, in the half empty, "all-at-your-disposal", gym?
Only tall cool pitcher of smooth and tasty protein shake, made first thing back home (low carbs, strawberry flavour, no artificial colourants, additives or aspartam sweetener) .
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[Запись для всех] 18-06-2008 19:01
And You Thought All I Do...
...is TRAIN... and D-I-E-T?









Sorry. Post-training hunger fantasies.
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[Запись для всех] 29-04-2008 13:36
Flipping Heck!!!
Only leafing through “Muscular Development” every month makes me realize how ignorant we all are and how much info there is out there you should stuff your head with before even thinking about picking a pair of 25th.
Take the latest issue for instance. Just the few of the headers for your undivided attention.
“Lactic Acid Might Stimulate Growth Hormone Release”.
“IGF-1 is NOT Essential For Muscle Growth”.
“Blood Vessel Occlusion Increases Muscle Mass And Boosts Anabolic Hormones”
“Muscle Protein Synthesis In Trained Athletes: Intense But Short”.
“High Volume Weight Training Decreases Blood Fats And Increases Inflammation.”
“Artificial Sweeteners Promote Obesity.”
“Weight Loss Similar In Very Low-Calorie, High-Fat Or Low-Fat Diets”.
“IGF-1 Cuts Fat And Improves Blood Sugar Control.”
“Branched-Chain Amino Acids Reduce Post-Exercise Muscle Damage.”
“Chromium And CLA Do Not Help Weight Loss”.
“Quercetin Interferes With Thyroid Metabolism.”
“Creatine Pyruvate Increases Strength And Endurance”.
“Myostatin Blockers Could Be Powerful Muscle Builders.” Etc., etc., etc…
Mind you, if I were to follow all their tips and recommendations (considering the ones they’ve got published this month very often grossly contradict last month’s publications), bet you anything: I would still be nowhere. Either reading earnestly and faithfully short-handing endless lists of things to do and to buy. Or, getting frustrated from apparent luck of progress, and gradually but steadily loosing my faith in science and high-brow popular medical authorities, such as “British Journal Sports Medicine”, “Scandinavian Journal Medicine Science Sport”, or “American Medical Journal”.
Let all of us be left to our own devices and do what each one of us does best. Their writing – to them, and my training– to me.

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[Запись для всех] 28-04-2008 10:17
A Delirious Entry.
PAY DA-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-Y!!!!!!!
(no comments)
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[Запись для всех] 25-04-2008 08:45
Spring Madness. Pre-Summer Silliness.
Where's the winter when you need it? It was 25 degrees in the shade yesterday and I was dripping wet and dropping fast!
Never satisfied. It's tough being a human. But the human is an amazingly adaptable creature. It's hot, I'll adapt.

The human being is incredibly resourceful, as well. I shall apply my
extraordinary powers of the mind. I think I'm cool, therefore, I am
cool. Ah, much better. Psycho cybernetics, works every time.

Now to apply the same technique to my training. Enter the gym and
regard the loaded barbells and dumbbells as hefty, yet easily manageable play things. Better yet, enter the gym and regard the
workout as a deed that has been skillfully and courageously completed
and it's time for a nap. I catch my reflection in the mirror as I
exit, convinced the image is stunningly ripped and dashing.

We may be advanced, but some of us are known to hallucinate
occasionally. Hopefully, it's gonna be a long hot summer.

We must carry on the good fight. Press on, not forgetting to
pull with equal zeal. Even the most comfortable and capable among us
agree daily living is a battle. Call it a challenge or a struggle, if
you insist, an adventure or a game, but let's face it, it's a fight, a good one, a worthy one, the only one we have.

Am I talking too much? Don't mind me. Carry on regardless.

Back to the training and “Muscle Limit Gym”, usually packed to… well… to the LIMIT, really. But yesterday it was that hour in the afternoon after everyone has left and before everyone arrives, and it's no accident we were here at this time. You could stumble in and out without disturbing anyone with your idiosyncrasies and snorting, yelping and chanting. The half-dozen faces scattered about know and accept your “charming” personality and walk circles around you. Hi. Grrrrrrr… Yelp! ("Cor! Blimey! She bites too!"

I like the gym, don't you? Once you enter its doors wherever yours might be, and scan the scene; after a mini-review of the possibilities and a few defining shrugs, stretches and contractions, and upon determining your plan, the place is yours. Iron bars, steel cables, metal benches, focused energy, defined purpose, maximum effort.

Getting there is perceived by most lifters as the hardest part of
their workout. Go or not to go is often the question, the crossroads,
the moment of truth. And then there's the approach and the anticipation, the prep and the psyche. It's no simple thing and can
take all you've got. Ah, but remember, it gives back twice what it
takes.

You're welcome to stick around if you dare. Just sit still and shut
up...
I'm trying to adjust to shorter workouts of less intensity to
accommodate my current limitations and thus prevent system overload.
“More is better” used to be my approach, and now I'm endorsing “Enough is just right”. I don't want to wear myself out.

Too late, said the fat lady as she started to sing. Feeble joke, but “HA!” bloody “HA!!!”

I notice my routines for the past months have been composed of six
exercises, usually done in three supersets. Can't shake the supersets.
Even when I commence a single-set plan, it soon expands to supersets.
Give me five minutes to warm up and get the juices flowing, and I
can't sit still between sets. Next exercise...

And I notice no two routines are the same. My exercise repertoire is basic and not exactly short. I have plenty of traditional movements, and a bunch that have been modified to accommodate the flogged workhorse. I choose and combine them according to my DNA -- desires, needs, abilities of the hour.


Looking back, our last night’s workout was primarily legs. Thus, the focuse stayed on lower body, the quads, hams and calves.
The core and midsection to follow. The abs, obliques and intercostals, I'm thrilled to say, respond very nicely to my version of standing (hunched over) rope-tucks performed with an overhead cable.

The standing cable rope-tucks are a relatively high-rep exercise (25
to 35) and quickly attack the midsection as I tug with bent arms close to the body and vary my downward motion from front, to left and to right. As the reps, pump and burn pile up, I extend my arms and the resistance is transferred to the greater upper body. Biceps, triceps,serratus, lats, pecs and the entire back are fully engaged. And I'm panting -- there's cardiovascular work at play.

Raise the weight, lower the reps and the movement is powerful. No, not an earthmover, but it's strong and intense. Furthermore, it offers freedom and spontaneity, that great sense of muscle exploration and exercise improvisation according to feel, urge and desire. There are muscles just waiting to be discovered and involved and energized and developed.

Seriously, if I had one movement, one exercise to choose to
maintain a healthy, strong and well-muscled body, it would be the
cable tuck with its wide range of motions... period. (And squats,
deadlifts, curls and presses... who said that?... sit still and shut
up.)

As I write this masterful congestion of misspellings and ill-conceived words, I'm convinced I could superset five sets of cable tucks of diverse ROM, resistance and repetitions with freehand or machine dips of similar variation and exit the gym (or, rather, stay in it) a proud and exhilarated iron freak - no regrets. The point is: there's a total workout in those two exercises if you know what you're doing. Maybe even if you don't. And that is something I am NOT going to help you with.
Too busy restocking my weary self with full English … minus fried bread…,… and hash browns…, and black pudding…, … sausages…, … mushrooms…, tomatoes… Did I miss anything? No. It’s all here, on the plate in front of me. Scrambled eggs, stick of celery no ketchup or butter.

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[Запись для всех] 24-04-2008 07:32
Press To Impress.
Didn’t even have to try THAT hard. Our gym members, being completely obsessed with improving their “mile/per/hour” ratio and never having lifted anything heavier, than a pint-in-the-pub, were either gaping openly or doing discreet double-takes at the sight of me, in a sage-green tank top, bright red exercise bra, tightest lycra pants and lifting gloves and amount of poundage I was shifting. “Serves you right, you lazy sods!” and “THIS is what I call a WORK OUT!!!” were two major points and signature tunes of my training. Don’t full myself fro a single moment though: there is not going to be any amount of resistance training converts any time soon, and free-weights area is going to be mine and free of die-hard muscle heads claiming their exclusive “droit-de-segnior” to it.

CHEST TRAINING.

1. Cable Cross-Over. 5 X 15-25.
2. Flat Bench Press. 5 X 12-15.
3. Incline DB Chest Press. 5 X 12-15.
4. Flyes. 5 X 12-15.
5. DB Pullover. 4 X 15-20.
6. Dips. 3 X max.

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 23-04-2008 09:44
What Was Before...
...Chicken or Egg?

I've no idea and, to be perfectly honest with you, don't even care. What does it matter anyway, as long, as I could have both on my daily menu and in my lunch boxes.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 22-04-2008 07:38
ABYSSmal Viewing.
My sweet little baby son (grumpy hunk of a man, more like it), walking into the sitting room last night, casting a glance at the TV screen and reacting very strangely to my answer to his question “What’s on?” ( sci-fi movie “ABYSS”) – retreating to the kitchen, mattering to himself in disgust:” As though it’s not enough fat blobs on the streets around here! They’ve got to watch them on telly now! AND in Space too!!!”
It took me full ten minutes to realize, he thought the film’s title was (get ready for this) - “OBESE.” (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

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[Запись для всех] 21-04-2008 10:41
Drop Down Sets…
… and Drop Dead ( no, not “gorgeous”) me. Vanity aside, looks are immaterial, after last night’s intensive leg work out the only thing on my mind today is the moment I would be able to drop off. On my bed, that is. There is, however, a few obstacles to be overcome. Like, eight hours at work, three classes, long walk home and shoulders training session tonight.
Might resort to seeking help “from a pill box.” Old, tested and trusted “E” number is the only thing, apart from heap and heaps of caffeine, which will do the job nicely and keep me going till the end of this long, long day.

Legs. Drop Down Set Style.

1. Leg extensions.
2. Leg Presses.
3. BB Frontal Squats.
4. Superset. Hack Squats + Lunges.
5. Superset. One Legged Squats + Roman Chair Squats.

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 18-04-2008 08:19
Inching Forward.
After almost a week of hard-core cardio (an hour in the morning, 45 minutes in the evening, 6 times a week) and staunchly-frugal dieting (could murder for a cream bun or portion of fish-and-ships), I could proudly boast the following progress (in cold, no-nonsense, blatantly truthful figures).
Body fat - down 1%.
Waist - minus 1cm.
Thigh – as above.
Bum (that’ll be my gluts, by the way) –no change here. (And no wonder. My butt has ability to grow the minute I get out of bed in the morning and start walking about.)
Arms, chest and back measures – thankfully, no losses recorded.
As some dames on this site are so keen on saying:” Upwards and Onwards!!! There is no backing off now!!!”

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[Запись для всех] 17-04-2008 07:34
Breakfast a la Venice Muscle Beach...
1. Two scoops of strawberry flavoured protein powder, mixed with 150 mls of orange juice.
2. Four table spoons of oatmeal, with half a cup of water, and two table spoons of plain, fat-free, yogurt.
3. Three egg whites.

This is the first week of my pre-contest dieting. So far, I've got rid of ALL the sugar in the house and have lost about a pound of flesh.
Admittedly, ALL OF IT off my face.
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[Запись для всех] 16-04-2008 13:37
Vicious Cycle.
And this title lives up to it's’ true nature in relation to my planned hamstring circuit training for tonight. THIS is exactly what it’s going to be: brutal, hard-core and merciless session.

1. Leg Curls.
2. Stiff- Legged Dead Lifts.
3. Weighed Lunges.
4. Weighed Bench Step-Ups.

I’ll do my best to go at least three rounds, taking each one of the exercises to failure. FOUR, if I survive what I intended. I must have some sort of a death wish (or a very peculiar personality, indeed), if Dante’s “Inferno” or his Ninth Circle of Hell is my idea of IDEAL training.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 15-04-2008 07:52
This Is Heavy Duty ...
I admit I don't know much, but I do know I am due to train arms today, with a touch of legs to stimulate the system and burn some loose calories. Biceps and triceps comprise a small muscle group and don't require lots of energy. Hard work, burn and focus, yes, but not a big drain on the heart and lungs. Thus, a reserve for some friendly leg work to keep the foundations from failing and crabgrass from cropping up along the walkway.

I intend to arrange my workouts, henceforth, with particular attention to robustness and good cheer, function and wholeness.

Time has not caught up with me; I have overtaken time. What was once
necessary yesterday and a year ago is too much today. I expect I'll be playing this intricate balancing game from now on: exercises, sets and reps, pace and intensity of performance, ability and purpose. Just when I thought I knew what I was doing, along come the same old variables disguised in the different clothing.

I'll customize my workouts, rotate and alternate my muscle groups, and train according to on-the-spot, at-the-moment needs. Have to, ought to and suppose to will not guide me; guilt will not be my judge. “More is better" will no longer rule my hauling and tossing of metal, and “beyond my ability" will remain beyond my ability.

I thought we might examine ten post-Stone Age sayings found etched on the walls of ancient cave dwellings and dungeons.

Iron Age Proverbs

Train hard and eat right, myfriend.
Be strong, be wise and live long.

Curls for strong arms and presses for mighty shoulders;
The rod for the back that refuses.

The wise man seeks muscle and might daily;
Perseverance and patience are his companions.
Not every day is fruitful and a delight;
Satisfaction comes at a great cost.

Better to sleep in a bed of thorns,
Than to share a house with a drunken scoundrel.
Such a mate is destructive,
Apart from Dumb Bells and Barbells, there is no hope for him or her.

I saw a man walking to ruin and death,
His hands were without iron and steel.
No fresh fruit or greens of the earth entered his belly,
No protein or essential fats satisfied his languishing body.

The foolish choose the easy way,
The wicked the way where evil lurks.
But the courageous fear not toil and pain,
And the devoted delight in loaded bars both long and short.

Listen to the words of wisdom, my child;
Let not health and strength drain from your body.
Serve your muscle and might always,
And they will serve you forever more.

Worship the heavy bench press and it will take you down;
Treat your body to its rewards and damage will not visit your house.

A good pump and a stinging burn are the joys of a solid workout;
Pursue them with diligence and long suffering.
Dullness in spirit and sluggishness in body assure defeat;
Avoid them like poisonous snakes.

Weights that go unattended build up rust,
While the lax attendee builds up no good.
Sluggard is his name,
Frail is his frame.

Some things never change: once a dumbbell, always a dumbbell.

A little reassurance goes a long way, and we have a long way to go.



Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 11-04-2008 07:36
Morning BACKstravaganza.
In honour of my friend "CHASHKA"'s brave endeavor (two competitions this spring and summer) and to support her daring quest of "chin ups" and "dips" pursuit, I made a very executive decision (Don't laugh, am I not a manager after all? City whipper-snapper, white collar and all that stuff?) to start each morning with a healthy doze of chins/dips/and Abs. All on the top of my usual portion of vigorous cardio session (I am up to 55mins. 6 times a week at the moment).
Done so far:
1. Cardio. 55mins.
2. Chins. 6X max. to the front.
3. Chin. 4 X max. to the neck.
4. Hanging leg raises. 4 X max.

Don’t worry, Inna, you’ve got my full moral and, now, physical support. You never know, we might even meet on the day of your big show in the final pose down, all pumped up smelling of body paint and glittering with heady mixture of oil and sweat. What friends are for, eh?


Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 08-04-2008 08:11
Daily Doze of Pathos.
History is a bitch. It is merciless, weeding out wannabe pretenders from the true contenders. It crushes the weak. Leaves them behind. It stops for no man. But that doesn’t mean you can’t push back. When it comes to spilling blood and guts, those who got it, will turn up with buckets in hand. When the chips are down, they rise to the occasion. When the balls out session calls, they are always first in line – and they get right back in to ask for more…
More punishment equals more reward. Standing tall they never fall. They are mythmakers. A breed apart, we are not made, we are born. Born to this world to shine in the darkness, to make it, proud and loud, unracking the iron and unsettling the dust. Will you be the one? Or is your place in the dark corner, sitting on your ass, reading about it long after the act? There is no room for Second. No place for imitator. No space for the poser. You are either One or Nobody.

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 07-04-2008 10:44
Monday Upbeat.
Life is GREAT!
Life is COOL!
Life is simply
BEAUTIFUL!!!

Must be morning seven miles walk amongst snow-covered magnolias in full bloom.

Or else, I am turning into utter horror in my old age – an Eternal Optimist.


Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 06-04-2008 09:32
Snowy April Sunday.
[IMG][/IMG]

[IMG][/IMG]
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 04-04-2008 08:46
Plodding of Time and Clancking of Iron.
Time has no mass, yet it weighs heavily upon me. A seemingly
motionless hunk, I commence to lean upon it in the fall and push it
earnestly during the early winter. Move on, you slug, make haste.
During December it slips by with the rush of the holidays, but it's
back to heavy heaving by mid-January. Come February I can push no
longer and, like a fool, resort to pulling and dragging the frigid
days instead. Exhausted by March -- what's the rush? -- I let time
proceed at its unremitting pace.

Here we are in April and I note a peppy acceleration in the ooze of
time. The once motionless blob appears to take flight and leave me
behind. Throughout the warm and sunny summer I'll chase the whimsical
tease like a kite in the sky. Higher and higher and almost out of
sight, it will return to the earth's surface in the cool gray of
autumn. After a few twirls and a half-hearted loop, time will crash at my doorstep -- a motionless hunk.

When I'm fully rested ( like after a year holiday on the Bahamas ) and don't feel too guilty about life in general, I like to blend the upper body muscles into a 60-minute free-for-all. Lighter and quicker, I'll dash. When I feel strong, yet lack zoom and enthusiasm, I'll mess with low reps and heavier weights at a slower pace. Taking on the burdens of the world, I'll plod.

It occurs to me more and more lately that anything goes on the gym
floor, as long as it's thoughtful and effortful.

This articulate exchange was within the past few years, while I
insisted on order and regularity in muscle overload and exercise
repetition to exact the very last available contribution from any
particular muscle- and power-building movement or routine. I still
advocate such refined performance for the beginning lifter through the
intermediate lifter. Anything less is playfulness reserved for the
playful -- the Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck and Goofy gang.
But, as time -- the unrelenting glob -- moves on, we are positioned to
take advantage of, or are in need of obliging its passage. We've
gainfully reaped the fruits of our disciplined sowing, and our stores
are in sufficient supply, muscle, routines, training knowledge,
exercise understanding and finesse. We can now rake in and scoop up
tender, ripe pickings without stooping low and lifting high.

It takes years to achieve this level of training freedom. Spare the
back, save the joints, protect the internal system. Chill and savor
the flavor. Stimulate, perpetuate and propagate. That doesn't mean we
stop blasting it. It simply means we don't go nuclear. The
concussion and fallout can be crazy.
Seriously, as your coach and professor, good friend and priest and
channel, your hairdresser, let me say this: There comes a time when
precision in program construction is a disruption, and calculation in
sets and reps is an interruption. Simply, purely, boldly lift the
iron. Not enough? Lift with thanksgiving, appreciation and joy. That's
the outline, the bulk and the theme of a good workout.
I stood in the middle of the gym and twitched convulsively,
which is a good sign these days. Legs rose to the surface of my mind,
followed by midsection and core, with deltoids-plus as the runner-up.
It was clear what muscle groups I was to work today.

This is not random training, my friends, a style I seldom support. It's a joyful, orderly, instinctive approach (some call it mysterious cuz of
the spooky way the bodyparts rise up in my mind), minus precision and
calculation.
This is what I did:

1. Standing ropetucks (5 sets x 25-35 reps) for midsection activity
and upper body pumping, stimulating and burning.

Supersetted with:

2. Squats on Smith Machine (5 sets x 8 reps). I added two more sets
for a total of seven sets.

3. One-arm dumbbell raise while lying sideways on a bench for deltoids and upper-torso action.

65 minutes and I threw in the towel and grabbed a napkin.


Breakfast time. Have fun with porridge. Enjoy the eggs. Feel the pump. Be happy.




Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 03-04-2008 09:00
White Menu.
Food. Second day on the row:

Meal 1. Porridge. (Oatmeal, water and natural, 0% fat yogurt.) + 4 egg whites.
Meal 2. Lunch. Boiled chicken breast.
Meal 3. See Meal 2.
Meal 4. Steamed fish fillet (Fish is called "Whitening" believe it ort not).
Meal 5. See Meal 4.

Feel clean, light, virtuous and almost sanctimoniously smug. White robes rustling, wings flapping and the halo shining, reflecting my inner glory. Not an easy job, being a saint, but somebody’s gotta do it.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 02-04-2008 09:32
A Puzzle A Day...
...keeps marazm away...

Life, most definitely, takes good care of my wits. Always throws some or other riddle up my alley (to get me off my trolley, obviously).

Take today, for instance. How could it be, that I look so awful, while feeling so wonderful? Well, that's me all over. An eternal jigsaw.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 01-04-2008 10:17
All Is Not What It Seems…
And BIG is only big from a distance.
But look up close and you’ll see “BIG” is made out of “SMALL”. Take this big old factory in Docklands I passed on my way to work this morning. It’s been here since before I was born and it still be, long after I am gone. Come within an arm length to its’ walls and the weathered bricks, the tenacious mortar holding them together are clearly visible. But what’s not on the display is the steel, wood and concrete. All told, these individual parts, the building blocks, make the whole.
To me, my sport, my training, is exactly like this building. At a distance, you could easily make out my physique, the large shadow it casts. Yeah, seeing “bricks” is not a problem, but you won’t see how I placed each of them with painstaking labour, one at a time. Nor will they tell you about the years of hard slog, that has been etched into my soul – the countless meals, mad, gut wrenching, blood spilling, insane gym workouts, spirit-testing dieting and grueling morning cardio sessions. Sets, reps and sacrifices. You won’t see it, but it’s all there…
I have lived it… I have suffered through it… It’s totally worth it… Every single moment of it…
The sum total of efforts will stand the test of time...
And if I could do it, so could anyone….

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 01-04-2008 07:15
April's Fool !!!
Tee-Hee, everybody!


Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 31-03-2008 10:48
End Of Hibernation.
For the first time in days (or months, rather) I liked what I saw in the mirror this morning. And it feels as though I, finally, started moving somewhere. It seems the spring has truly arrived. Or, maybe, my elated state is simply the result and combined effect of Magnesium, Vitamin B6, Folic Acid, Cod Liver Oil, Sea Kelp and “Boots” Radiance Complex.

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 28-03-2008 07:40
Good Things Come In Three...
True.

O-n-e. It's Friday.
T-w-o. It's a PAY DAY !!! !!! !!! !!!
and T-h-r-e-e. After almost a month of utter self-denial and stern dedication (well, just about ) my six pack was clearly visible in the mirror this very morning.

**************************************************
********

Bad things come in the same number, apparently. According to "Law of Averages", "Murphy's Law" and Ms. MarinaV. Who, at this very moment, is busy pouring filthy scorn on her earlier innocent joy and delight, after opening the following:
O-n-e. Gas bill - 94.85.
T-w-o. Electricity bill - 70.52.
and T-h-r-e-e. Credid card statement - figure will remain strictly undesclosed.

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 26-03-2008 15:32
When Less is MORE...
I’ve read recently, that the average life expectancy in the West is 80 men and 82 for women. Have been doing my math since, trying to work out the number of years I’ve got left, then – converting them into the hours and thinking how wasteful sometimes (more often, then not) my life is. Working more hours than I need, to earn more money than actually required, seeing my days disappearing without a trace and all for what? To buy more well… stuff? Things I don’t need but might temporarily crave and, not being able to withstand in impulse almost instantly regret buying?
We all know this compulsion. We buy frivolous trinkets, wasting hours surfing the Net work too hard and chase too many goals. Then we get exhausted or glutted and we scold ourselves, because the feeling, that we’re still missing something is very acute and tangible. This mad pursuit makes us sick, tired, frustrated, fat, angry and in debts. It looks as though the more we acquire, the less we have.
I’ve noticed this paradox a few years back, when I joined the world of mobile phone ownership. It made me quickly realize, that for all it's’ convenience, instead of being liberated by the little constantly ringing gadget, I became enslaved by it. I was being completely besieged by intrusive work demands and constant claims on my time. After only a short while it stopped being much of an advance. I was pulled, and very forcibly, off my feet by a strengthening ride of social expectations. What it this power that obliges the best of us to dedicate our entire beings and our very cores to something so petty and shallow?
Surely, an average person (myself, of course, included) has everything they materially need to be content?... … Except an “OFF” button. An instinct, that says “Enough. Stop striving and amassing. Start appreciating.”
Saying this magical words is not about hair-shirts and self-denial. It’s the way of opening precious space to savour and to enjoy life.
Minds need space to think, and simply BEING, rather than perpetually DOING, fosters the creativity demanded by modern existence. It liberates you beyond the world of just getting and spending. Thus, the path of “ENOUGH” could lead, paradoxically, to more.
I’ve found that I actually treasure anticipation, than purchasing. So, now I am very much into “tantric shopping” and never in a hurry to whip out my credit card to “spend-spend-spend”. For, after the deal is sealed, the high evaporates in minutes and the latest trophy doesn’t even look as remotely attractive as it did sitting on the shop shelve. Resisting the urge has become surprisingly easy, especially, when I started practicing a very useful trait envisaging mental picture of my wardrobe and shoe closet, groaning with shameful results of my “substance abuse”. There are few more revelations I’ve come up with after sobering enough to be cured from the sickness of spontaneous buying
I long have lost the illusion, that I truly “own” the stuff I possess. It’s quite the reverse, in fact. One could never be too careful or the slavery is inevitable.
Mind you, having said all that and being of a clear vision and sound mind, there is that vastly expensive, highly extravagant, very beautiful, natural silk, mustard-coloured, bat-wing, madly fashionable blouse in my favourite “Body Basics” shop. The one I really and truly crave and covet and can’t give up thinking about.
The fight still goes on, then, eh?

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 23-03-2008 15:25
Fixed-Interval Training.
If you, like myself, always looking for the ways to increase training intensity and the paths to create and maintain it, here is a tip for you. Raw training intensity comes from within. But there always little things to help it from "without".
Take your tipycal gym-rat and his customary style of training - pushing the weight higher and higher in trivial pursuit of bigger gains. But in order to do so, either by purposeful design or inadvertently, this "bright" individual will be forced to take an increasing amount of rest between sets. While the technique allows him to hoist a substancial poundage, the price to pay is that the level of deep muscle stimulation goes down exponentially, simply because the burning flame of training intensity is ostensibly snuffed out by the long respite.The more rest you take between sets with this particular kind of training (heavy weight, low reps), the more you're avoiding the pump. That intense burn of blood rushing into the muscles, that Arnold once famously described as akin to an orgasm.
Trainign heavy is great, but it's all at the cost of intensity and your muscles won't grow. It's a cyclical trap, that is tough to recognize and escape. It's also a zone that's riddled with hazzards. Bodybuilders tend to focus just on the amount of weight they lift. They can't shake that old myth "The stronger you are, the bigger you become." It's only true in part and ONLY for the beginners. When you body is still an unexplored country, terra nouva, new territory, the soil never ploughed, and responds well to ANYTHING, whatever seeds you throw into it.
If you are an old seasoned "almost PRO", not unlike myself, here is what you do to get off the well worn out, many times beaten track.
Continue stimulating muscle growth with FIXED- INTERVAL SETS. Narrow down your rest time to 90 seconds (well, I found it works best for me, anyway) and stick to it throughout your work out. Never stop using the "pyramid principle" with upping your work load from set to set and dropping your reps. Keep that intensity alive and feel the burning of pump in every inch of muscle fibers of you bulk. Fair enough, you will be able to shift a lot less, than you normally able to with the longer breaks, but the insane muscles after only 6-8 weeks of such training - guaranteed.
Also note - I am quite generous with my (and yours) time allowence. 90 seconds!!! The whole minute-and-a-half!!! Unlike that Has-Been, once almost famous, pretty boy Romeo Dunn of "So solid crew", who could only offer the world "twenty one seconds to go."
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 20-03-2008 11:55
The Entry, Which Almost Happened...
...and it didn't...

Well. I suppose there is always "one, that got away"...

Better luck next time, then.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 18-03-2008 10:52
Spring Training for a Stealth Lady...
In some corners of the world we have turned our clocks forward an hour in observance of daylight saving's time. The robin redbreasts have been seen hanging out suspiciously on lawns and at parks, wings and beak poised in feathery anticipation. Tweet, tweet! I feel their eager sentiments. Baby showers and wedding ceremonies are announced in local
newspapers, alongside once-in-a-lifetime two-for-one specials for local gym memberships.

You feel it, don't you? It's like a stir of fresh air in a still room, a dash of sunshine piercing drawn shades, the rustle of dust-coverings removed from protected surfaces, the bracing fragrance of life revived.

Never quite dead, never quite alive, your senses tingle faintly,expectantly. Is that a heart beat... and another... a breath, a gasp,a deep inhalation? Has the restless sleep ended, the mute dormancy expired? Might I once again lift weights with purpose and might,
diligence and joy? Can it be... am I dreaming... is it spring?

No, it is not spring. Winter prevails for 10 more days. In fact, it might rain tonight with gusts up to 50 miles an hour. Replace your hooded sweatshirt and resume your depression and long face. It ain't over till it's over, Brubba, as they say amid stark outlines of icy squat racks and the bottom-most edges of damp and moldy lifting platforms.

The season of relief does not officially arrive until March 22nd and there'll be no pump before then. Push that iron, and groan!

To lift your dragging spirits, to comply with a promise I fullishly made recently, and being a person of my word (who lies through their crooked anddecaying teeth, girls), I shall complete my thoughts on getting bigger and better and smarter if I were still an average 20-year-old, weight training for a year in an average sort of way (yeah, keep dreaming).

I have chosen four likely muscle-group sequences and routines utilizing the 10 must-do-to-be-big exercises.

The Big Ten Exercises:

1. Squats
2. Dumbbell press
3. Deadlifts
4. One-arm bentover row
5. Barbell curls
6. Lying or overhead triceps extension
7. Seated lat row
8. Widegrip pulldowns
9. Dumbbell pullover
10. Sidearm lateral raises one-arm or two-arm

I know what you're saying and I see your point (I'm not as dumb as Ilook, just 'cuz I have ears and eyes in the back of my head): Where's the bench press? I don't see chins and dips on the list! No barbell cleans and presses? Hmmph! The list is incomplete, inaccurate and
amateurish.

My initial thinking went something like this:

1) The bench press, when applied forcefully to gain power and size, is the perfect exercise for developing chronic shoulder imbalances,tears, rips, shreds, injuries and wincing pain. Dumbbell presses are safer and better muscle builders, shapers and powerizers.

2) Though the circumstances are specific, I generalized; not everyone is able to perform freehand chins and dips with bodyweight.

3) Cleans and presses are great, but let's save them for a later size and power push.

4) There are another dozen movements worthy of our devoted efforts, but the Big Ten popped to the top like bubbles in a pitcher of frothy brew.

5) Drink booze, you looze.

The neglected four exercises are beauties, I agree, and they in themselves are arguably a formidable combination for building a thick and powerful body. Let us concentrate on them another time for a venture into the world of building muscle power and thickness. We'll call them the Big Four Exercises. Clever, 'in I?

Bigger, Smarter, Better -- The Sequences and Routines:

A
(Day 1) Chest, back
(Day 2) Legs
(Day 3) Shoulders, arms
(Day 4) Off
(Day 5) Upper body
(Day 6) Lower body
(Day 7) Off

B
(Day 1) Chest, back
(Day 2) Legs
(Day 3) Shoulders, arms
(Day 4) Off
(Day 5) Full body
(Day 6, 7) Off

C
(Day 1) Chest, back, shoulders
(Day 2) Legs, arms
(Day 3) Off
(Day 4) Chest, back, shoulders
(Day 5) Legs, arms
(Day 6, 7) Off

D
(Day 1) Full body
(Day 2) Off
(Day3) Full body
(Day 4) Off
(Day 5) Full body
(Day 6, 7) Off

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 15-03-2008 15:08
L-E-G-islated.
Trained legs today. Properly, for the very first time in ages. Well, I have my reasons for slowing down, when needed, having a little break sometimes, regrouping and recharging. Then, bouncing back, all pouncy and eager, with all the vigour of a young filly (ha-ha!), let out on the medow to enjoy fresh grass after a long winter of conviction to a tiny dark shed and boring diet of dusty hay.
Here is our Legs' Work Out.

Calves.
1. Standing Calf Raises. 5X max.
2. Superset of
Seated Calf Raises and Seated Toe Presses. 4 X max.
3. One Legged Hill Raises. 3 X max.

Quads.
1. Leg Extensions. 5 X max.
2. Leg Presses. 6 X max.
3. Hack Squats. 5 X max.
4. "Hammer Strength" Squats. 4 X max.

ABS.

Crunches. 3 X max.

Wouldn't go amiss, I think, to mention, that in the case of such an intense almost cruel training, the word "LEGislated" could be spelt "legi-S-L-A-T-E-D" . And quite appropriate, too.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 11-03-2008 09:49
This week I can't get enough of...
Jeff Buckley...

"Hallelujah".

I heard there was a secret chord
that David played and it pleased the Lord
but you don't really care for music, do you
well it goes like this the fourth, the fifth
the minor fall and the major lift
the baffled king composing hallelujah

Hallelujah...

Well, your faith was strong but you needed proof
you saw her bathing on the roof
her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you
she tied you to her kitchen chair
she broke your throne and she cut your hair
and from your lips she drew the hallelujah

Hallelujah...

Baby I've been here before
I've seen this room and I've walked this floor
I used to live alone before I knew you
I've seen your flag on the marble arch
but love is not a victory march
it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah

Hallelujah...

Well there was a time when you let me know
what's really going on below
but now you never show that to me do you
but remember when I moved in you
and the holy dove was moving too
and every breath we drew was hallelujah

Well, maybe there's a god above
but all I've ever learned from love
was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you
it's not a cry that you hear at night
it's not somebody who's seen the light
it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah

Hallelujah...
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 07-03-2008 07:38
Where's beef?
Nutrition is it, actually. Bigger, better and smarter ones are most directly
assured by right eating and proper supplementation, and their daily
implementation. Yet, I'm struck by how few people are familiar with
healthy eating guidelines or appreciate their vital importance. They
don't care. They eat when they get the urge or the chance, when
they're bored or depressed, for comfort or entertainment. And they eat
junk, too much and too fast, or they don't eat at all.

Do as I do, do as I say and do it always, regularly, consistently,
certainly, without fail: daily, weekly and monthly, and on and on
forever and not just occasionally.

Feed yourself simply, wisely and respectfully. Ya'll know Nutrition is 101% of success; ya'll just forget it every now and again. Ya'll dumb.
Be simple, be wise and be respectful. Be smart.

Eat breakfast always. Small, yet substantial, the starting meal will
save and maintain muscle and provide energy and engage the metabolism.


Eat sufficient meals regularly throughout the day, every three hours
is a nice rule of thumb. Not too much at once, not snacks only.

Eat well-balanced meals (40 percent animal protein, 30 percent good
fats, 30 percent nutrient-high carbs is my favorite calorie ratio),
including fresh vegetables and fruits and excluding junk, refined
sugars and grease.

Eat fish, lean red meat, low-fat milk products ground-fed poultry and eggs as your size-building protein muscle foods. Wisely use a superior protein powder to augment and simplify your muscle-gaining endeavors.

I also add EFAs to my menu and take creatine and glutamine by Reflex. Quality vitamin-mineral goes without saying. That basically does it for me in the supplement department (apart from occasional help from far superior range of “sport’s technology” products).

I could go on forever, but it's time for one of those substantial,
well-balanced meals that assure weight gain and muscle growth. It’s called “full English” in our parts and I am going to give it my best shot and thoroughly enjoy it.


Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 05-03-2008 08:20
Relativity Theory in Practice.
Yeah, he was right, the Wild-Haired One. It’s all linked and related, sometimes in a very unexpected, even bizarre way.
Time, I recently found out, could be measured by almost anything. Dame Agatha once used “ the depth the parsley sink into a soft butter on the hot sunny afternoon”, as a criteria. Not being famous writer (or simply “famous”, or even a “writer”) I’ve come up with a little less sophisticated dimension. Today the progress of time in my day will be scrupulously paced out by four cans of tuna in brain. One tin (149g, drained), every four hours, naturally. Eight am, twelve noon, four pm and eight pm. Brilliantly delicious solution, wouldn’t you say? Not yet sure how tasty, though.

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 01-03-2008 09:24
Spring... The time of awakening...
"Daffodils" (1804)


I WANDER'D lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretch'd in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:

I gazed -- and gazed -- but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

By William Wordsworth (1770-1850)
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 28-02-2008 09:30
Take a LOAF of “THAT”.
As dear ol’ Meat Loaf very adequately put it once:”I would do anything for love…... But I won’t do “THAT”.
I’ve been deing to know, what kind of horrible sordid things were required from pop’s favourite fatty in the name of love and what this mysterious “THAT” was standing for from the mid-nineties. Haven't you?
I mean – come’n, Meaty, the track goes on for 13minutes (longer, than “Bohemian Rhapsody”!); the video is said to be the most expensive ever made (All for what? A few cob webs, a long-legged femme fatale and two bikes on the grave yard?); and after all this fuss and extravagant spending we are still none the wiser.

PS. In case you wonder, all of the above brought on by incessant watching of VH1 Classics from six in the morning.

PPS. How about getting a L-I-F-E ???!!!
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 27-02-2008 13:44
Body Basics.
Leap year: We have an extra day this month to get huge and ripped.
Time is muscle! I shall take advantage of the cosmic windfall and do
nothing but squats, deadlifts and bench presses this Friday from
sunrise to sunset. No order, just random, hysterical lifting.


I remember when that sort of spontaneous, combustible and delirious
training was common: Sprint to the gym, dive into a pile of warm and
welcoming 45s in your sweats from atop the squat rack and thrash
around jubilantly; chew on the 100-lb dumbbells like a Rottweiler on a
juicy t-bone; juggle three 25-pound plates instead of your everyday
lateral raises for deltoids; and dip with a greasy engine block
dangling from your waist.

What fun!

Today I need all the reassurance I can get. I'm exhausted!
I slither to the first non-threatening bench and take a load off my feet. There I rummage through my gym bag for the necessary items to sustain the mad
workout ahead. No rush.

The bag's become heavy and worn over the years and I consider getting
a new one, a larger one, on wheels, like those travelers tote about at airports. I remove and pile my vital gear at my side and take a quick inventory: wraps, gloves, injectable morphine (just kidding!), water and glutamine... all set.
Or, all fired up and ready to go, as they say on the ole campaign
trail.

I stand, hold on, stare into space and twitch several times, a quaint
practice similar to divining. Messages are sent through the central
nervous system, as far as I can tell, and it is clear as crystal that
today is arm day. I shiver with excitement, involuntarily resume my
place on the bench and have a refreshing swig of water. Show time.

Retrieve your Bodybuilder's Manual and look up arm exercises
under biceps and triceps. Do I train both muscles on one day, or do I
blast them on separate days; how many sets and how many reps; how much
effort and in what order? Gets complicated, but no one said this stuff
was easy. You've gotta be tough, intuitive and highly motivated to be
a true muscle builder, serious and determined and gifted.

.

I laugh at defeat when it dares knock on my door. "Get ye behind me,
Satan. You'll find no subscribers here," is my declaration. Which
reminds me; I'm writing a newsletter for a bunch of highly motivated
people who want to develop muscle, discard fat, increase power and
improve their health -- not read the pointless ramblings of a wet,
rusting and gout-ridden ironhead. Where's the beef?

Thought you'd never ask... anyone for a teensy hotdog on a toothpick?

Here's a list of exercise alternatives and modifications I've
discovered, invented and been obliged to adapt to accommodate
limitations due to injuries and years, needs and abilities.

Yeah, they're tough subjects to breech, but somebody's gotta do it.


The process, like building muscle and might, is done gradually and
painstakingly. It's part of the great journey -- the part when the
pedal-to-the-metal is removed from the gas and applied to the brakes.
We're slowin' this baby down before she winds up in a ditch. One more
turn like that and it's the scrap yard, Buster, between the Morgan and
Town Router. We've been where we were going; it's time now to cruise
and amuse.

I'm hyperbolizing, people. We're all about the same age, 15 to 75,
which, in the scheme of things, is just a moment. It's time we let the
tricks out of the bag. Adjustments, alterations, eliminations,
reductions and tuning and dialing are on-going. They are accomplished
through compromise in utilized weight, modification in form (AKA
standard exercise execution), focus on pain as the major guide from
first to last rep, pace according to muscle exertion to achieve
maximum pump and burn, order in the mind and routine to overcome
irregularities (AKA sloppy, chaotic and compromised performance)...
and variation and variety and volume and verve and vanity and vava
vavoom.

I'm killing time 'cuz I hate to describe exercise execution...
Boorring. Here we go:

*** Thick-bar bench, any grip that is least painful or most rewarding
will do. Wide grip kills me, so I stay close and tight with the tris
and delt regions benefiting most. So you can't go heavy anymore, but
the action is there. Make the most of it. Overall upper torso is
grateful. Smile, be happy!

*** Leaning barbell curls are a treat for the bis and save the lower
back when we find ourselves thrusting with excess oomph and pain. That
lower back squeals till it's warmed up and we then tend to overuse and
aggravate the region. Tomorrow we sing the blues; next year we need a
laminectomy.

*** Try this: lean your butt against a solidly racked bar (best) or a post
and curl with a thus-minimized thrusting action, and make the bis do
the work. Saves the back on the eccentric and concentric, yet has no
mercy on the biceps.

*** Tilting dumbbell curls accomplish a similar purpose -- enable a
satisfactory big-muscle thrust while saving the back, maintain balance
when balance is problematic and enjoy muscle focus.

Stand before a secured bench and bend knees sufficiently to lean
stably on the bench edge. Curl thumbs-up (my favorite), palms forward
or alternately. It's a whole new experience to the curl and associated
engaged muscles. These movements take time, experimentation, finesse
and a positive approach.

*** Widegrip pulldowns to behind the neck, while seated with the back to
the apparatus has a definite upper-back accent. Not only that, it's a
relief for those poor insertions that are overly tugged upon during
the ever-popular frontal approach. Try it. With a lighter weight, sit
at the end of the seat, positioning you away from the overhead pulley.
Stretch your legs forward, or assume a seated staggered-leg placement
(my fav) and proceed. Look for full extension at the top and a tight
contraction on the bottom. Wide Lat Stamp of Approval. Form counts.

*** The one-hand, sidearm dumbbell raise from the back or the front of
the torso is the secret alternative to the typical two-hand variation.
Sidearm laterals ensure shoulder function and health and are
indispensable in full deltoid construction, shape and definition.



I'm down to three loyal, bleary-eyed readers. Everyone else has gone
home, to bed, to dinner, the movies, the loo... I can take a hint.
I'm winding up my lecture and getting down to the fun part. Refreshments. A flask full of protein shake (chocolate flavour), couple of aminos (branch chain ones) and squint at the sun pouring through the gym windows. Have to take care of serotonin production and make sure I am never short of endorphin or two.

Never look back. It's done.



Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 26-02-2008 12:09
It's The Thought, That Counts...
"We all live on the same Planet. But each one of us - in a defferent WORLD".

PS. I like being profound and meaningful from time to time, by the way. Oh, and
V-E-R-Y serious once in a blue moon.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 25-02-2008 09:59
Gone "Backpacking".
What else should it be called, for, this is exactly how you pack the muscles on your back. Without added hazard of making sure you've got enough room in your rucksack and nothing jars or jingles, when you walk about.There is also a very popular problem of matching socks never to be found, when you need them the most, and a small matter of extra pair of thermals stubbornly refusing to fit into the last available, admittedly, VERY tight space.
In the case I am referring to, i.e. “Back Training”, your major and only worry would be not to run out of frame to accommodate intended and, hopefully, fast responding and dutifully developing muscle bulk.


1. Chin ups. Body weight. 4 X max.
2. Wide grip lat. pull downs. 6 X max.
3. Narrow grip pull downs. 6 X max.
4. Seated pulley. 6 X max.
5. Seated "Hammer Strength" row. 5 X max.
6. Dead lift. 4 X max.

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 23-02-2008 09:22
A Musing Day...
Saturday... The day of the week, when I do nothing. Literally... NOTHING at all.
I sit back, let all the outside destruction blurr into insignificance, listen to the silence inside me and reflect upon... not the past, no... I am musing about curiousities and pecularities of life, and mysterious ways of God and Fate...
Wouldn't be very characteristical of me to miss an opportunity of showing off with a good pun, considering the material in hands. So here it is. The summary of my by-weekly ponderings:
"We are NOT a-M-U-S-E-D ".
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 20-02-2008 13:29
Livin' La Vida Loca... (Take Two)
Nothing to get envious about by the way. ‘cos it simply means hopping from one place of work (high and mighty, admittedly) to another (even more uptight and snooty), wishing some of my employers’ financial wealth would rub off on me and sprinkle a shiny cloud of gold dust over my remaining years (of leisure preferably).
But before it happened (if ever!) I’ve got 14 hours of work for the third week running and three classes every day. Also couple of idiots hell-bent on getting “big and ripped” before summer and a flock of delusional “beauties” grimly determined to “shed all this flab” for the holiday on the sun do not add up to my faith in human kind and NOT exactly improve my temper.
On the plus side – it’s nearly spring, I’ve been training really heavily all this time, didn’t neglect morning or late night cardio, eating is clean, and the classes I taught today were the ones I enjoyed the most. What could be better way to spend an early afternoon, than performing a little bit of “Meringue”, “Mambo” and “Salsa”, hips wriggling, pelvis gyrating, arms flying and cheeks flashing? “Shake your bum, bum, bum…” and be happy.

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 18-02-2008 09:44
"When In Lycra and Spandex...
...Stretched by the pump,
I look, like a Monsetr..." (QUAD-Zilla, for instance),
only then do I feel the training was exactly the way it should be: extreme, hard core and gruelling.
Yesterday's Leg Training fit all the requirements to a Tee (T-bone steaks and Tiranosorous Rex come to mind, NOT your puny-teeny-scrawny golf-related Tee).

QUADS.

1. Leg Extensions. 6 X to failure.
2. Leg Presses. 6 X failure.
3. Hack Squats. 4 X failure.
4. Roman Chair Squats. 4 X failure.

CALVES.

1. Seated Hill Raises. 4 X 25.
2. Seated Toe Presses. 4 X 25.

CARDIO.

45 mins. first thing in the morning.
1 hour last thing in the day.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 15-02-2008 07:32
Friday Morning Haiku...
Physical version (as befitted to an exercise junkey).

Humming beat of the
Tread mill.
Long and sweaty road
To the week end.


**************************************

Musical Version (am I not a pianist, after all?)

Staccato of feet
On the treadmill.
First bars of the week end
Prelude.



Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 14-02-2008 09:32
My Funny Valentine...
Behold the way our fine feathered friend,
His virtue doth parade
Thou knowest not, my dim-witted friend
The picture thou hast made
Thy vacant brow, and thy tousled hair
Conceal thy good intent
Thou noble upright truthful sincere,
And slightly dopey gent

Youre my funny valentine,
Sweet comic valentine,
You make me smile with my heart.
Your looks are laughable, un-photographable,
Yet, youre my favorite work of art.

Is your figure less than greek?
Is your mouth a little weak?
When you open it to speak, are you smart?
But, dont change a hair for me.
Not if you care for me.
Stay little valentine, stay!
Each day is valentines day


Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 12-02-2008 15:59
Back-To-Front Training.
If I am teaching Back-To-Back classes (sometimes three on a row), then, it just make sense, doesn’t it, to apply the same principle to muscle grouping in my weight training.
Combine anterior with posterior. Facade with rear. Boobs and wings if we are allowed such shocking vulgarity. Or... whathaveyou... To make it perfectly simple, I am going to put together Pectorals and Laterals. Chest and Back, in common language.
If I am still alive at seven pm tonight and have enough energy left for two major muscle groups of the body, my superset-style work out, hopefully, would look as follow:

1. Chin-ups/Dips. Body weight.
2. Incline DB bench presses/BB bent over rows.
3. Seated rows/Cable cross overs.
4. Dead lifts/DB pull overs.

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 10-02-2008 09:44
Two Helpful Tips ...
... from my very own "Extreme Guide To Life" Book.

1. Before you criticize someone, you should walk a mile in their shoes...
That way, when you start slagging them off, not only are you a mile away BUT have their shoes AS WELL.

2.Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will take care of itself...
Each day has enough trouble of its own...
After all, "TODAY" is the "TOMORROW" you worried about yesterday!!!
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 09-02-2008 19:54
Something S-P-O-O-F-Y...
I love 'Nickelback", but I thought taking the mickey out of them is just as brilliant

Here is the REAL THING
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 09-02-2008 10:06
The Diary Of a Secret Agent.
You know what? It was kinda cool to be called "Foreign Sector" even for a few days, being shoved behind the Internet's Iron Curtain, longing to be brought back "from the cold" and experiencing all the glamour of "undecover" life of a special, double zero coded, agent.
I don't mind, really, as long as I am in charge of the London's Head Quarters and You won't forget, that the " name's B-O-N-D Veeeeeeee. " ... "... M-A-R-I-N-A V. "

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 06-02-2008 07:14
Cosy Arangement.
Sitting at the desk, researching articles on the Internet with the general theme of "What to give up for Lent" (or NOT), for my this month Internal web-site column... A-N-D... drinking coffee (four shots of espresso) and eating CHOCOLATE (!!!!!!!!!!) Admittedly, 99% cocoa solids and sugar free. But still... Ain't I bad???!!!
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 05-02-2008 18:51
Moaner Lisa...
Courtesy to my "LiveJournal' diary and "Harbour"s day off.



...Well, it's what I normally come here for. To have a good, stress relieving moan. One could only wonder how on Earth do I restrict myself to no more, then one by -annual session. Mind over matter, my answer would be. Also, it might very easily unleash my internal Anaconda-Gioconda who would bite the Nosy Parker head off without even telling him to mind his own business first.
Here is my today, in chronological order anyway.

1. Up @ quarter past five (that AM by the way) instead of my usual 4 am.
2. Almost late for work (see above).
3. Security pass doesn't work.
5. Serious computer problems.
6. Major (and I mean M-A-J-O-R) water machine leakage. Half of the gym floor flooded, carpet is sodden and so are my trainers and gym pants. Hands in the icy water for half-an-hour (know now how that brave Dutch lad must've felt), nose blocked and throat ticklish.
7. "Mirror" cafe is being refurbished hence - only packaged food in the canteen. No freshly made stuff.
8.Eating "Cote d'Or" Milk Truffle chocolate bar (see number 1 and number 7 for the references).

How, in the circumstances, could I not turn sour and bemoan my fate? Where is Leonardo da Vinci with his flying brash to make up for such a dreadful morning (MOANing, more like it) and to immortilize my suffering? (Which, apparently make your true colours shining and ennoble your sole... Hm-m-m-m-m-m-m... NOT convinced.)
Or, at least give me the other Leo. That Di Caprio bloke, who came in very useful with his Irish-jigging skills to destruct everybody from "Titanic" little problem. I still have got enough water on the floor to sink it all over again.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 04-02-2008 10:15
Stating The Obvious.
Well, as anybody should have a freedom to be unoriginal every once in a while, I hope the following confession is not going to ruffle any amount of collective feathers or to raise the same quantity of well-plaqued united eye brows.
I absolutely love (spelt “L-O-V-E” ) week ends and completely loathe Mondays. Fair to say, that even the fact that I am not alone in such affection placement, is NO consolation at all.

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 01-02-2008 08:11
"Elbow Room".
No, it's not the name of the pub in North London. It's what I get every morning on the Jubilee Line (Victoria one, on the other hand, is a source of unfailing and pleasant surprise. Virtually untouched by human, erm..., foot and empty at six to seven am).
Not that one could complain or protest too much, when somebody’s elbow digs into your rib cage, and last night’s garlic and carry fumes poison what passes for the “air” on the underground. I just curse and swear under my breath and remind myself that for a “frozen fee” of ninety pens a hop it’s not the worst predicament to find oneself in. And still… Bloody public transport!!! Innit?

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 29-01-2008 07:51
Sleepwalker’s Guide To a Rough Week.
And the week in question is not the worst one in my diary.

1.Monday.

7 miles walk to “Cockfosters” club. Classes: BLT, lunch-time Spin, late afternoon Spin.
Mid-afternoon mini training session.
Ball room dancing with Vindetta.
Bed –11pm.

2. Tuesday.
Up @4am. Walk from “Liverpool Street Station” to “Canary Wharf” Club (4 miles).
Mid-morning training session. Step Class.
Walk home from “Seven Sisters Station”(4 miles).
Late afternoon training session @ “Muscle Limit Gym”.
Bed – 11pm.

3. Wednesday.
Up @4am. Walk from “Liverpool Street Station” to “Canary Wharf” Club (4 miles).
Mid-morning training session.
“Latino Tone” Class.
Walk home from “Seven Sisters Station” (4 miles).
Late afternoon training session @ “Muscle Limit Gym”.
Bed – 11pm.

4. Thursday.
Up @4am.
Walk to “Cockfosters” Club (7 miles).
Classes: Stability Ball; Salsa, Spin.
7miles walk back home.

Training @”Muscle Limit Gym” – none. Dayy off.

5. Friday.

Up @ 4am.
Walk from “Liverpool Street Station” to “Canary Wharf” Club (4 miles).
Mid-morning training session.
“Body Pump” Class.
Walk home from “Seven Sisters Station” (4 miles).
Late afternoon training session @ “Muscle Limit Gym”.
Bed – 11pm.

Week end.

Up @7am on both Saturday and Sunday.
Two 45 mins cardio sessions on each day. One in the morning, one in the evening.
Serious, hard core work outs ‘”Muscle Limit Gym”.
Food shopping, cooking, cleaning, etc., etc., etc…

It going to get even tougher from the next week on. Double shifts three days a week (Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Fridays), more classes, plus personal training with four new clients.

Just looking at my schedule makes me tired. So, it shouldn’t come as a huge surprise, that I feel completely knackered every week by Tuesday, on the regular base, and never stop wishing they would run all-year round special ephedrine promotion at my preferred protein supplier.


Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 27-01-2008 13:56
Beauty Is Only Skin Deep...
This is why my Cinderella regime normally consist of one treatment at a time. If that at all. Today though, feeling unusually brave (or, could it be vain?), I am attempting to execute two DIY grooming procedures at once: eye-lashes dyeing and legs' "deforestations".
In my present, permanent, absent-minded state it would be a small wonder, if I, having mixed up bottles and tubes, wouldn't apply "Immac" cream on my eye lashes and smear dark brown pigment all over my lower extremities.
Could end up looking distinctly odd, with the face of a medieval page-boy and goat-like, saturnine legs. But then, again, you never know: like any other extreme eccentricity it might catch on and even start a bizzare, "contemporary" highly followed trend.
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[Запись для всех] 23-01-2008 14:49
"What a Bore..."
You're still with me. How cool. All I have to offer is pocket change
today, but it's yours... all yours. Routine burns a hole in my pockets lately and I need to dig deep for the best use of my resources. I'm ready and able to work out with slam, but not always willing for a prearranged cram. Same tricks, different order, better input and outcome... a bit of spontaneity, Maestro, please... Let the show begin.
Today, anything goes. The body can use a dose of whatever I give
it. I'm neither fresh, nor under-trained, nor over trained, nor
excited, nor apathetic. I'm me. I stand somewhere between the racks
and stacks with straps and wraps in anticipation. Little drama,
sufficient hope, usual wonder.... Let's do it.
The first set is the toughest... causing the dominoes to fall with
instinctive precision. This is what I did; this is what I was meant to do.
Laboring through my supersets it becomes noticeable my entire back
needs powerful action (it feels hollow) and my arms are yearning to
tug (their pet activity). Seated lat rows supersetted with straight
arm pullovers solves that problem and satisfies that need: five
supersets of 10, 8 and 6 reps, increasing the weight as I go. Lower
back, mid back, lat width and length, and biceps and core muscles are
blasted.

Hmmm. Thinking. I could use some pec work, but prefer to do some
deltoid work, as long as it's not pressing. Pressing is for the birds
at this particular moment. I have come to enjoy and appreciate the
one-arm lateral raise to the side while grasping a stabilizing
upright. Battle wounds prevent standard sidearm laterals, yet one side at a time enables the needed body positioning and focus and finesse to accomplish the favorite musclebuilding deed. Five sets at 10, 8 and 6 reps. At my age I want capped deltoids. Call me crazy.
Three sets of 35 standing rope tucks (for gut and such) and I'm outta there.
Food beckons ... Yum... I could feel myself growing already. Beast in the making and the monster on the prowl. Beware…




Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 21-01-2008 10:24
Magical Quotation...
"It is not our abilities that make us, what we are. It is our choices..."
Prof. Dumbledore, Head Master of Hogwarts School of Magic.

On the slightly merrier, but a lot less profounder note, here is today's conversation between my two gym members:

"I could see your thong, Carl!"

"I am not wearing one, Liz!"
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 17-01-2008 07:21
Reversed Psychology.
Being white makes you sometimes get in touch with your “inner black sheep” side (space-killer variety, the hooves scratching and the horns itching ).
Particularly, if you happened to be the only light skinned person amongst the otherwise very dark (in all senses) crowd of early morning commuters.

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[Запись для всех] 14-01-2008 08:37
This Shoes Are Made For a 'Dancing...
My beige suede "Lotus" shoes. Bought for me on "Clarks" sales by my then "partner", husband at present, but still the same old Alex, on our second year in the UK. Which make them... hold on a sec... fourteen years old. Still, the "vintage" pair looks almost brand new and have got a lot of wear in them yet. That what real quality is all about, I suppose. We'll see if this excellence rub of on me and I would be able to "shoe off" any competition on my “Strictly Come Dancing" Monday nights.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 11-01-2008 09:18
I Go Through Cycles...
I go through cycles... I think we all do. Sometimes I'm so full of
baloney I'll have three or four hundred things flashing through my head, and sometimes barely a thought drags itself across my mind -- in one ear and almost out the other -- before it collapses.

Get up, ya bum. You don't have to make sense... we'll fake it. No one would ever notice. And I doubt it, if anybody cares.

Regular resistance training, long and boring cardio sessions, all that performance outlines and Bigger, Stronger and Faster Made Easier pamphlets. I am so glad I don't have to read this stuff (can’t bothered with my own writing, to be quite frank with you, and feel genuinely sorry for those, who still dare) and just do it instead. So what, I'm no expert.


I'm inspired by politics lately, what with all the campaigning going on in the USA, so maybe I'll go with a trendy message. How about something global... fuel-wise... environmental... economical... creative.

Save Oil -- Spare Iron and Steel.

Iron and steel are becoming increasingly rare resources, costly to procure, and in demand for the manufacture of products essential to life. Bungee cords and comprehensive courses in freehand exercise, yoga, Pilates and dynamic tension as alternatives to primitive weight lifting is certainly the modern and sensible replacement _ the smart way to go.

Iron has enormous potential and that it's been tightly imprisoned in bars, plates and kettle bells is unconscionable. And that they, the end products, are wasted in the cruel and deceptive acts of pushing and pulling and hoisting is criminal and inhuman. Give us the convenience, resistance, and flexibility of rubber bands and the mobility, versatility and playful bounce of stability balls -- tools for our health and the health of our planet.
That’s me being sarcastic, by the way, in case you haven’t twigged.


In my mind, being a bodybuilder is a lot easier, than fussing about with all the modern and useless gadgets. Almost a doddle, once you got past discovering the sport, becoming fascinated with it, and engaging it with passion and zeal long enough to understand it and, actually, achieve something. The rest is hard work, sacrifice, perseverance, time, patience, commonsense and luck.


In all its’ outwardly simplicity and basic, cruel primitivism, weigh lifting is a phenomenon, and I would urge anyone, who happen to pause long enough to listen, to try it for the same reasons I began almost 20 years earlier as a snotty nosed kid: for it's calm truth and straightforwardness, pain and fulfillment, muscle and might. I was not the star type nor a muscleman groupie. Just one of the believers and a quiet follower of the iron path. Still am, in fact…
And that is the only fixed phase, or never ending cycle, I hope to ever find myself in.

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 04-01-2008 07:52
2008 is Gonna be a Great Year...
A rare quiet morning at work allows me time to think about things I would not normally think about... Like, who lifts more weight in a lifetime - an Olympic lifter, a powerlifter or a bodybuilder? When does overtraining commence, considering hormonal production, maximum oxygen uptake, stress on joints and ligaments, blood sugar levels and focused energy expended? If a devoted trainee did nothing but cleans and presses for strength, health and muscle development, what would the results be after a substantial commitment of five years? How about curls and dips only? What a waste of the precious New Year's time!
Which reminds me: 362 days till 2009... 2008, ready or not, here we are.


We won't talk about resolutions. Those went out with polyester and
disco. Resolutions are like lifer-long promises; they are not only
broken, they are chopped up, pulverized and finally vaporized. Let's
just stick to the basics: train hard, eat right and be -----------.
You fill in the blank. Choices include, but are not limited to: happy, strong, consistent, muscular, lean, smart, healthy, a rock star, a pin up girl, a millonaire...
December is the longest month of the year. Somehow we manage to pack
six weeks into four, gain weight, lose muscle, waste time, spend
money, buy junk, get deep in debt, forfeit discipline, submit to
chaos, misplace the iron and skip squats. It happens very fast and
takes forever, both at the same time.
I intend to show my body kindness this year. In other words, I shall
reduce the blasting to sensible iron-pumping, thereby reducing the negative approach that accompanies the white-hot sets and reps, and the injury that lurks on the other side of the last rep. When pain begins to linger like the smell of an old cigar, it's time to lighten the load.

Speaking of which, considering it's the New Year and everybody's got
important things to do -- weight to lose, muscle to gain, money to
save, resolutions to keep -- I gonna join the queue. Or, even more likely, jump right in front of it.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 02-01-2008 07:29
Aftermath…
…or Christmas Damage Assessment.

1. Ten days of severest cold ever. Check.
2. Weight gain. Zero. Notch.
3. Weight loss. Eight pounds. Counts. But go figure.
4. Training sessions from 24/12/07 to 01/01/08 – three. Disgraceful.
5. Back to work and, thankfully, to busy, orderly life- from now on.

That’s the stock taking done and finished. All praise The Lord.

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 31-12-2007 10:18
Happy New Year!
Can't promise I will be here THAT often in the nearest foreseeable future. Every once in a while, perhaps. Or, quite possibly, even a lot less (I've got my reasons, and they are absolutely NOTHING to do with present company).

On the merrier note, however, here is little something for everyone from "Live Journal":
...С Новым Гoдoм!
С Новым Годoм! В смысле - счастьем! С новым счастьем! То есть, вот с чем: С новoй крышей! С новым дoмом!С новым блинoм! С новым кoмом! С нoвoй правдой! С новым сном! С нoвoй стопкой кверху дном! С нoвым делoм! С новым словом! Рыбoлoвoв - с нoвым клевoм! Карьеристов - с новым чином! Маму с папoй - с нoвым сынoм! Лесорубов - с нoвoй рощей! Нoвых зятей - с новoй тещей! Новых русских - с нoвой тачкой! С нoвой банкoвскою пачкой! Бюрократoв - с новой папкoй! Вoлосатых - с новoй шапкoй! Лысоватых - с новой кепкой! Деда с бабкой - с новoй репкой! Зодиака - с новым знаком! Греку в реке - с нoвым раком! Дoнжуанов - с новой милoй! Ветеранoв - с новой силoй! Бизнесменoв - с новым взлетом!С новым банком! С новым счетoм! Кулинаров - с новым вкусом! Импортёрoв - с нoвым курсом! Бoмбардиров - с нoвым голoм! Трансвеститoв - с новым пoлом! Космoнавтoв - с нoвой высью! Тугодумoв - с новoй мыслью! Шахматистов - с новым хoдoм! Вас - еще раз с Новым Годом! Музыкантов - с новым звукoм! Папуасов - с нoвым Кукoм! Капитанов - с нoвым кoком! Президентoв - с новым срокoм! Депутатoв - с нoвoй Думой! Кто за деньги - с нoвой суммой! Птицеловов - с новoй птичкoй! А сержантов - с нoвой лычкой! Генералов - с новoй частью! Вас - еще раз с новым счастьем! Подчиненных - с новым боссом! Программистoв - с новым DOSом! Слабoвольных - с нoвой дозoй! Хатха-йoгoв - с нoвой позoй! Пивoварoв - с новым суслом! Перестрoйку - с нoвым руслoм! Безработных - с нoвым местом! Тили-тили - с новым тестoм! Сталеваров - с новой плавкой! Отсидевших - с новой справкой! Пoхудевших - с нoвoй формой! Бывших трезвых - с нoвой нормoй! Завязавших - с нoвoй мерой!Атеистoв - с новoй верой! Резидентов - с нoвым кoдом! Всех вас - снoва с Новым Гoдом! С нoвoй песней! С нoвым танцем! Разведенных - с новым шансом! Жен любимых - с нoвой шубой! Дядю Сэма - с нoвой Кубoй! Беззаветных - с новым дзотoм! Сокращенных - с нoвым КЗоТом! Театралoв - с новoй драмoй! Маму с мылoм - с новoй рамoй! Журналистoв - с нoвым слухoм! Медиумов - с нoвым духом! Чукчей - с нoвым анекдoтoм, Мчащих - с новым пoворотом! Взявших прикуп - с новой мастью! Всех вас - снова с новым счастьем!!



Let's hope it's a good one. See ya!

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 24-12-2007 10:11
Have Yourself ...
...a Merry Little Christmas...


Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 19-12-2007 07:31
How crazy can we get? ..
... Pretty crazy!
I consider my habit of eating smaller meals throughout the day as I go about my tasks at home. These frequent eating events, though of substantial nutritional worth, do not earn a place at the dining table with an attractive place setting and glowing candles. Instead, I consume the fare of tuna, water and cottage cheese while standing at the kitchen table conversing with my "Apple MAC" or the birds outside the window, whichever will listen (Sad, I know!)
Neither does, not for very long.

Alas, eating alone can be lonely, and the neutral stance is conspicuously tiresome and unproductive. However, neutral becomes quite engaging when thrown into low gear, a groaning four-wheel-drive workhorse. I, thus, nourish and labor co-operatively.
A bite of food and I’m in slow motion. Standing four to five feet away from the waist-high kitchen table, I lean forward with my palms on its edge and commence pushing... My stocking feet slide on the hardwood surface beneath me as I control the pace and resistance by my body’s positioning. I stretch the calves and hamstrings, I labor the thighs... soon my triceps and shoulders are aching. I lean, I push, I thrust, I persist.
It takes about six or seven supersets (chomp, plod) to complete my mission and I’m warm and breathing and aware of blood concentrating in various parts of my anatomy. The union of acts becomes a beneficial devotion, my mind tuning into a muscle-stimulating, problem-solving and stress-amending calmness.
No sweat, no pain, no burden... just invigorating motion, vitalizing action.
Give it a break, girl! You’ve been at this madness too long. Have you considered shock therapy, a lobotomy, a pitcher of Margaritas? You’re exhibiting scary signs of kettlebells for brains.
You mock, but weirdness sometimes pays off. The diversion is effective and eases stiffness, soothes aches, accelerates healing, stretches, oxygenates, encourages, pacifies and, last but not least, wards off evil spirits. And it’s free.
Perhaps you’ve noticed, we’re living and striving in a day and age when we need all the help we can get... muster, create and invent, uncover, imagine and share. No stealing, lying or cheating allowed.
I entered the gym earlier today and promptly immersed myself in crunches and leg raises. The only way outta the gym is through it. Go, go... not quickly, not hurriedly, not elsewhere... but here and now, thoughtful and deliberate, like a locomotive changing cars in a freight yard, a crane loading and unloading cargo at the docks.
Hard, worthy, gratifying work... ya gotta love it. The variety of crunches I do are not like those done by others I observe, the ride-‘em-cowboy, rocking-horse type. Cute. They’ve got crack and mangle, crush and scrunch, if you know what I mean. I lay backward on a benchpress and position my feet on the racked Oly bar before me to enable an intensified torso action -- crunch to the front, to the left and the right, lengthy stretches, tight contractions, hips raised high to meet the torso, compress, flex... hard, harder, another one and another.

The leg raises are done on a 20-degree incline with my arms extended and hands splayed under my bottom for support and low back containment. Hip flexors scream like brats and lower abdominals and obliques burn like branding irons. I break up the reps into five max-rep sets and go until I’m delirious, a grand total of 300 reps -- 150 of each exercise. I’m warm, I’m loose. I’m ready to work out.
Sadly, not a six-pack, still a keg. Oh, well, better than a barrel. However, if it were a drum I could beat it.
I noted at the outset how comfortable I felt just lying on the bench, stretching, flexing and contorting in preparation for the workout. The muscles and joints responded blissfully to the tensing and reaching and arching. If only they knew what I had in store for them, a merciless pounding, beating and thumping into shape.
I decided for the first time in my training history to ever-so-slowly simmer the concoction of muscles and bodyparts before bringing them to a full boil. Why not? I’m the head chef, after all, and preparing nutritious gourmet specialties to tantalize discerning palates is my art form. This isn’t a fast food joint, Bub. Feed them right and they come back for more, that’s what I always say.
I grabbed a pair of darling 10-pound dumbbells and lay flat on a bench, the cutesy weights straight overhead. With arms straight and palms forward, I extended the dumbbells behind me simulating a stiffarm pullover movement. Thoughtfully and slowly I established a 1-, 2-, 3-, 4-second count from the starting position to the return and retained it through the entire ensuing six-exercise, 36-rep set.
If you don’t try this stuff, Mr. and Mrs. Stuck-in-the-mud conformist, you’ll never know what you’re missing. So there!
Follow my tempo and movements, my purpose and achievements -- they range from sublime to ridiculous, from warm to red-hot, from a murmur to thunder. From good, to better, to best.

The six purposeful reps were a treat and I savored the good feelings within the lats, the grip and bis and tris, the pecs and about the shoulders. The abs were not without stabilizing contraction, and the buttocks and thighs hugged the bench for support. We don’t often notice this favorable multiplicity of activity, or appreciate it, or tally it as a valuable part of our musclebuilding experience or progress.
This style of training was proving to be a lesson in muscle engagement, extension and contraction, action and response, and exercise groove, while revisiting pump and burn with a side trip to in-depth focus. You’ll say, “This complex and varied activity is occurring at once, and I thought I was merely working my serratus. I have renewed incentive, refreshed purpose, more complete training understanding. I’m rich.”
Shame on us: We grab, go and power through; we chase the sets, reps and action away, rather than pursue them; we endure the pain, we suffer the burn, we groan with exhaustion as the iron crashes to the floor. Great set... let’s do it again.
We’ve just begun. Continuing the action with devotion and discovery, direct the iron singlets to a 45-degree spread-arm reach. This action shifts the resistance enough to complement its predecessor while furthering its torso and upper-chest developing advantage. The burn builds; the pump takes its cue.
After six smooth, slowly paced and highly gratifying reps, we slip into an authentic dumbbell fly, the preferred exercise for shaping and defining the pecs. The overload on the insertions is noticeable and straight-arm control and pec-isolation grab our attention... some serious pec development and torso building in the works. After six reps, a total of 24, the 10s seem hefty. Hmmm...
Now here’s a less-than-ordinary movement to keep us alert: the forward and downward flat bench sorta dumbbell curl and fly, one of my favorite combination exercises for tying together unvisited regions of the biceps and shoulders and pectorals, while making me feel like I’m gonna burst with muscle engagement and go to heaven before I expected. Six reps and stimulation hisses all around me.
Are you still with me, crew? We are about to specifically exert the triceps by performing a standard variation of the lying dumbbell French press. From a palms-facing-each-other, overhead position, lower those now-bulging 10-pounders to the shoulders and beyond while retaining an elbow-upward position. Feel that? Good… “Returneth thou the irons to the tidy places from whence they came so mightily,” said Shakes Bear. Anyone who shakes bear can say whatever he wants.
Oh, boy! Ready or not, stand tall (literally), take a deep breath and curl the dumbbells in a thrusting thumbs-up action. These final six reps are well-earned and smoothly engage the upper body in a variation of a hammer curl and dumbbell clean and press. Lots of stuff happening all over the place with this personalized, improvised, customized frenzy to the enzy.
Now, captains, we continue our sweep by going up the rack to the next pair of weights suitable to our scheme. This was my sequence: 10, 15, 20, 25, 30 pounds X 6 reps per 6 successive movements.
After 20 pounds the weight felt significantly heavier, and painful struggle replaced delectable stimulation... but the trade-off was worth every bit of muscle fiber recruited. As I approached the final sets and reps, I was soaring and gliding and diving simultaneously... out-of-control while in control.
You’ve gotta be crazy to go there and be mad enough to want to stay there.


Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 17-12-2007 10:13
Monday Controversy.
On the way to work was composing a bleak winter haiku as today’s entry. Then, as an impromptu act of demonstrative protest, popped into “TESCO” and bought two boxes of “Ferrero Rocher”. Depression or oriental 17-syllabilic poetry – no more.


Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 14-12-2007 09:14
Bzzzzzzzzzzzz...
"Buzzzz-and-drum" of a busy-busy bee.
That is all, I am afraid, you gonna here from me for the rest of the week. (... 'cos somebody has to make the honey.)
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 12-12-2007 10:10
Mood Of The Day...
Imagine Peace. War Is Over (If You Want It)





Memorial Tribute.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 11-12-2007 08:06
Don't Try THAT At Home!
My yesterday ration:
8am. Breakfast of Scrambled Eggs and Celery.
1pm. Sort of "Lunch" of Very Strong Black Tea and Condensed Milk.
5pm to 8pm. "Dinner". Two Pints of "Guinness" and Blackcurrent plus Packet of Peanuts. (LOADS of calori-free/mood-enhancing gosspip shared with my friend Vindetta.)
How's that for a "healthy" menu?
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 09-12-2007 09:58
Free Spirit.
Empty your mind and let your energy flow free. Letting your thoughts go makes your well and truly liberated AND fully aware of life inside and around you.
This is how I intent to get through dreaded winter months anyway.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 08-12-2007 05:11
...Just Seem Appropriate...
...and an old favourite of mine.

Машина. День Рожденья.





[Масква]
[Jull]
[MeDy3a]
[диреХтор-2]
[inna2]
[Жутик]
[Летний сад]
[Vindetta]
[xelenka]
[PretoGatu]
[Chashka]
[VETA-S]


Love you all.

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 07-12-2007 09:36
Behind the smile.
Friday. And I am all in throws of my usual and trivial pursuit - surfing the Net and gliding through hundredths of bodybuilding web sites. Couple of shows I’ve missed, galleries of familiar faces, well studies body parts, some of which I know better, than my own and quite a few new names. Have you ever noticed how wide and broadly they all grin, this boys and girls, posing, flexing and presenting their musculature and themselves, flaunting it all for everybody to see, if not admire? Part of the show package, this seemingly senseless frozen, glued-on smile. I’ve been there myself; I know, what it takes, and I do remember that characteristical facial muscle ache after trying to look “elated, cheerful and happy” (startled and silly, more like it) for two hours non stop.
The smiles on stage and under the harsh lights of photo shoots are hard-earned and their payment was gained in the dark confines of gyms filled with heavy iron. Weights — barbells and dumbbells — were the source of resistance that built the muscles that built the men that built the magazines and the web sites. I, and the guys before me, lifted the cold and noisy metal not for a moment on a page of paper or on the web page, but for reasons — wonderful reasons — too numerous to count.

Oh, heck! Let me give it a try. I’ll be brief.




There’s health, muscle and might for starters. Not bad. There’s the fun of lifting weights and the exciting challenge it presents, the physical pushing and pulling and stretching, the intelligent formation of exercises, movements and routines, and the tantalizing pumping, burning and striving. Weight training is a dynamic diversion providing strong camaraderie, identification and hope. Be sure of this: Few pastimes provide more benefits, rewards and fulfillment.

Training builds discipline, perseverance and patience. Mountains are climbed with these superior characteristics, lives are saved and nations are shaped. Tough exercise puts order and rhythm in our lives, diminishing confusion and reducing stress, and that’s worth more than a few trips to the psychiatrist’s couch. As quality is added to life, so is it extended with enduring, useful and enjoyable years. When once we said, “I can't,” after gaining fitness and well-being through dedicated exercise, we say, “Don’t just sit there, let’s get moving.”

A strong back and strong heart match one’s courage and confidence, four natural byproducts of working out and regular lifting. And, though personally pleased, true ironheads don’t brag about their accomplishments — one more modest attribute gained from solid cast-iron training.
I said I was gonna be brief... Or didn't I?


Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 06-12-2007 07:36
WWet, wet, wet...
Whoever said "Everywhere you go - alwayas take the weather with you..." ought to have their wits checked.
After walking my customary 7 miles to work this morning I am soaking to the bone. My paffa jacket is wet, my lycra pants are sodden and clinging coldly to my legs, my little red riding hood hat is damp, trainers are soggy and started to smell already AND my socks need thorough wringing, as though after good hand wash. The only fine and dry thing about me at the moment is probably my sense of humour.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 05-12-2007 08:43
SHAKING things up...
[IMG][/IMG]

Morning Protein SHAKE:
2 bananas, two scoops of "American Muscle" protein meal,150ml of cranberry juice.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 04-12-2007 08:49
STILL...
...life worth living anyway. More over, if you started a show, it must go on, and you simply can't stop.

All this wasn't related to anything in particular. They were random thoughts, popping into my head at 5 o'clock this morning on the top of a double-decker bus.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 03-12-2007 07:36
MONDAY...
...and a helluva lot of work.

Planning ahead:

1. 7miles walk to work.
2. Three classes to teach.
3. Monthly reports to write.
4. Club's Internet Site to update.
5. 7 miles walk back home.
6. Lats training tonight.
7. Try not to forget to eat AND to keep my sanity intact
.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 02-12-2007 09:04
SUNDAY. Cheers!!!
[IMG][/IMG]


Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 01-12-2007 07:28
SATURDAY...
Day of leisure labour...

I guess, what I meant to say, is, that MY Saturdays are not unlike Bartok's music. ..."full of hitherto undreamed of possibilities."
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 29-11-2007 09:45
Complex Approach...
Being a seasoned pro and a hard core muscle head has its’ own advantages and certain merits. Apart from the obvious ones, of course. Like high metabolism, allowing you to have 24 (that’s twenty four, NOT forty four, by the way) profiteroles in single sitting and completely forgetting about it five minutes after committing such an atrocious nutritional crime. Or – relatively low level of body fat all year round, even off-season, permitting you to humour your vanity and to look good in anything short, tight and fitting. (Well if you’re after “romantic- feminine- and-glamorous” image, better think twice before lifting that 10kg dumb bell. Me – I am not into bellowing locks, flowing frocks, and pretty cutesy outfits.) Despite feeling sluggish and being totally “out-of-sync” last night, there was still enough discipline and ol’ working ethics left clanking and knocking about in the “Rusty-The-Trusty” to carry myself (DRAG, more like it) through an hour of a strenuous, circuit-style, top-to-bottom work out.

1. Straight-Legged Dead Lifts SS with Leg Extensions.
2. Lunges SS with Lying Leg Curls.
3. BB Bicep Curls SS with Triceps Push Downs.
4. DB Flyes SS with BB Bent-Over Rows.
5. Crunches SS with Dorsal Raises.

Now, who said the whole approach to training is a COMPLEX business? In my point of view it’s very simple really and boils down to one thing and one thing ONLY.

Just Do It!!!

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 28-11-2007 15:32
NO ENTRY.
Well, you could enter, if you so wish. But whether you find anything eye or mind pleasing, that would be open to discussion. For some reason I don’t feel like overstretching myself to meet (AND greet) everyday life’s necessities and demands. Hence – no writing. My brain is sluggish, my reflexes are idle and the consciousness - half-comatose. The most I am capable of today – seating on my a bit bony, but still such a lovely ass, and letting the surroundings pale into insignificance. To blur into the mere props on the back of the stage of reality.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 27-11-2007 07:02
Late Night Wisdom.
Prunes are the most deadly, lethal and effective weapon of mass destruction, known to humans. With not a lot of money and even less imagination, you could quite easily and safely take one perfectly sound and healthy fitness manager out of operation. As well, as the whole army of them. On their stomachs they might be. But definitely NOT marching!
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 24-11-2007 19:09
Time Passages...
Everyone knows the holidays are plodding along like work horses and it'll be New Year's Eve in five short weeks. Do we have to count the days? Isn't it enough to shop till ya drop, wrap presents, hurry up, miss your workouts and gain twelve pounds of blubber? No, I don't want another piece of pie and not another word about time.
Of course,
having little knowledge of anything beyond lifting weights and
building muscles, the two closely associated disciplines will be my
central subject matter. Got a pad and pencil ready? This stuff's
heavy.

LIFT, EAT, REST AND GROW.

I left out the details as they are boring and no one seems to agree
upon them. I figure the less said, the fewer the disagreements. It is
the holiday season, after all. Additionally, with my limited-input
philosophical approach each of us has a greater opportunity to fill in
the Eat, Lift, Rest and Grow (LERG) specifics ourselves. We do not
live in a totalitarian society, people. The Stone Age of survival only
has come and gone.

Our choices -- life's intricate factors of self-control -- such asexercise, sets and reps are deeply personal. Proteins and carbs and fats should not necessarily be treated universally either. How much one sleeps, how big one gets -- these are not trite grab-bag subjects.
They are private; they are individual and they are delicate. I should think there'd be laws protecting these freedoms -- moralconsiderations, spiritual concerns. What has mankind come to?
This is the perfect setting and time (that word again) for recalling why we love barbell curls, flexing our muscles and pulling on a t-shirt that doesn't feel like a sail flapping in the breeze. We might not be huge and ripped, and the calves could use some extensive work (forget about the six-pac), but we are hefting and hoisting with all our might.

Exercise, we agree, is an activity that's good for your health, shape and well-being. It's as important as hygiene and right eating, a worthy job and a loving mate. Resistance exercise, the addition of a few machines, is another step forward, a muscle- and strength-building activity for the energetic and physically inclined. Weightlifting and powerlifting are iron-sports involving strength, technique and discipline, and often include competition. Bodybuilding is a specific muscle- and shape-building activity, which requires lifting weights extensively and precisely and eating properly. It, too, is often
competitive.

Training is the term to describe all of the above activities and any one of them is an expression of one's self. Some expressions are greater than others. They can be a diversion, a pastime or hobby or a beneficial tool in supporting and furthering other sports and recreations, and jobs and daily living. Ask yourself, who is not assisted by being strong and conditioned, well built and imposing: a bus driver -- a passenger, a lawyer -- a client, a doctor -- a patient, a pencil-pushing accountant?
You, me, your spouse?
It's a tough road to travel, this training business. Life's a tougher road to travel without it. I dare say I'd pull onto the hard shoulder, throw it in neutral and apply the emergency brake if I had to go it on my own. I'd walk, I'd stumble, I'd hang on a signpost and stick out my
thumb. But nobody picks up a bum.

Well, I must admit, that's a generalization and an over-statement if I ever heard one. Over the years you give up stuff here and there and you adjust. The power, the density and the youthful symmetry all take a hit. But the expression, the training expression, if it is
legitimate, remains strong.
The longer you pursue the cold, compact, clanking weights up and down the racks, streets and hillsides, the more certain
you are it's an expression of you -- an extension you. And musclehead is not exactly the character I had in mind. Determined, disciplined, authentic, developing and developed, and blessed with character are the more appropriate descriptives.
I exclude myself from the observations, of course. I'm at the keyboard, or in the gym and don't count . This is about you, the one with a drumstick in one hand and a chocolate cake in the other (TORT-and-VODKA, come to think about it, might be more common occurance, than some might think ).

You who eat with all your might, when you can and as you know how. Or feel guilt
and disappointment after you did. Not me, though. And even we agreed on my presense here being merely in observing capasity, still...The facts remain.
When others recline, I incline.
When you sit, I squat. You curl your hair, I curl the 25s. You clean your plate, I add plates to my clean. You guzzle a beer, I ingest a protein shake.

I am living and learning, lifting, eating, resting and growing.
You are eating, resting and growing... plump.

Here's a sure-fire way to burn fat and get pumped -- not plumped -- next time you're in the vicinity of iron and steel neatly and conveniently arranged on bars of different lengths, and before sturdy benches for sitting and reclining and adjacent to assorted cables from which to dangle, hang and pull.
Sounds like your favorite gym down the street... downstairs... in the garage, where the vibes hum like still, yet warming AGA.

I use a pair of 25s, 35s or 45s for this non-stop, no-rush encounter, depending on my expression. Be nice to the character grasping the iron.

* A set of lying dumbbell presses for six reps... Sit up.

* A set of seated bentover dumbbell lateral rows for six reps...Stand up.

* A set of alternate curls for six reps... Sit; lay down and with one dumbbell.

* A set of stiffarm pullovers for six reps... Position yourself before the cables.

* A set of triceps pushdowns, forehead to lockout for six reps... Kneel down.

* A set of full range of motion rope tucks for 10 to 20 reps...

Stand, repeat and smile. After all "...'TIS A SEASON TO BE JOLLY"
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 23-11-2007 08:53
Simon Says...
In my case it was SALMON and it said: "EAT ME". Never deterred by other gullible people sad experiences with talking edible things ("Alice in Wonderland" being your nearest call of reference, if you're puzzled over what on Earth she is on about), I obeyed wholeheartedly. Result? Sizeable tupper wear box packed full of scrumptious, pink, admittedly stinky, fishy flesh (steamed) to keep me going for the whole day. 8 pieces of hundred grams each will make four lovely meals, not discounting already consumed hefty omelet for breakfast, a protein shake after tonight's training and erm... grilled white fish for supper.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 22-11-2007 07:30
Dial "D" for Deltoids.
Last night's shoulder-demolishing session.

1. Reversed Flyes. About 20 sets of them. With the weight ranging from one plate to the whole stack of them.

2. Bent-over DB Flyes. 8 X 15-20.

3. Lateral DB Raises. 6 X 15-20.

4. Seated "Hammer Strength" Lateral Raises. 4 X 12-15.

5. Standing Shoulder Presses ("Hammer Strength". 4 X 15-20.

6. BB Upright Rows. 4 X 12-15.

7. ABS. Crunches. 3 X 50.

Absolutely killed the deltoids. As a result of all of the above madness this morning I couldn't face my old trusty shoulder bag, and arrived to work, feeling not quite my usual stylish self. Well, you wouldn't, would you, if all your "wordly posessions" are randomly crammed into a plain brown paper bag with the logo of the "Fat Face" shop on it?
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 21-11-2007 09:25
Damsel in Distress.
Some recent events of the past few days made me realize one very painful thing. Nobody ever loved me the way I would want to be loved. Or, shown it in the way I would feel I deserved.
How crushingly heartbreaking and how tragically pathetic.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 20-11-2007 07:59
Cantata in Iron LEGato.
Last night HEAVY leg training could be described in Italian terms, as “TENEBROSO”. For, the work out was loaded, the pace was solemn, the mood was somber. And I was wearing black, top to bottom. Black sweater, black baggy pants, black weight lifting gloves… Ah, and a very small exception of pink “Converse” trainers and matching aerobic socks. Being “black and proud” sometimes works for even “white and humble”. If I wish to draw further musical analogies, my alLEGory would, most probably, be that of Pavana-style exercise. Slow, measured, engrossed and absorbed.



1.OVERTURE. (Warm Up).

Leg Extensions. 6 X 15-20. Weights from 10kg to 80 kg.


2.MAIN THEME with Signature Tune of Vastus Medialis (Almost “MELODY- alis, isn’t it?)

Close Stance Leg Presses. 6 X 15-20. Weights from 80 kg to 300 kg.
Hack Squats. 5 X 15-20. Weights from 20 kg to 100kg.

Frontal BB Squats. 4 X 12-15. Weights fro 40kg to 70kg.

3. CODA.

Roman Chair Squats. 3 X max. Weights from body weight to 20kg.

4. GRAND FINALE.

Protein Drink @10pm back home.

5. TUTTI. Well, what could I say? When you train legs, face the music and CONDUCT ACCORDingly.




Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 19-11-2007 06:16
Plans For This Morning.
1. 45minutes cardio session with "Freshly Squeezed" on E4.
2. Breakfast (4 egg whites + 2 celery sticks).
3. An hour-and-a-half walk to work.
4. At work - wall to wall gossip on Morning TV and about 20 Christmas Cards to sign.


...and Plans For This Afternoon.

Considering the weather outside, the very best thing I could do - nothing at all. AND enjoy it. Thoroughly.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 16-11-2007 07:58
Another Day of Scheming and Day Dreaming
The words I toss together are simple attempts to gain your attention
and point you in a sound and agreeable direction in a muscle-building journey. Like well-placed signs on roadways warning of bumps, sharp curves and slippery slopes, I offer advisory cautions and
guides.

The subject matter is less prolific than my choice of adjectives and
words ending in ly, say my counseling readership. I should think of
something worthy to say, they continue, perhaps between sets at the
gym or while ingesting cans of tuna and water. Cute!

I am a servant, I am obliging, I am creative, I am positive. I'm real.
Thus, the messages in the future will uncover real, hidden and, till now, never before exposed secrets. Developing topics include:

1) Building lean and mighty muscle.

2) Losing unsightly body fat.

3) Growing thick, luxurious body hair (Just kidding!).

4) Earning big bucks restoring discarded gym bags, trainers and wraps (Tee-Hee! Fooled ya!).

5) Recycling precious energy from your stationary bike (Messing around again, or haven’t you twigged yet?).


You asked for it.


Consider for a sec the handy-dandy enhancers from the underground,
proliferation of current training methodologies cautioning against any hint of volumous training, the obvious increase in techno-based
physical apathy and languor, the introduction and takeover of sparkly, non-inspiring, look-at-me gym atmospheres, the co-incidental loss of gyms that matter, and the general chaos of minds of men and women, and boys and girls today. Morals and personal responsibility ain't so good either.


Are we becoming busier, yet less active texting techno-headed
scatterbrains developing unbelievable cellular gadgetry while
developing unbelievable limitations to physical exertion, endurance
and pain? Absolutely, I say, with the exception of a courageous band
of warriors, who regularly spread their wings wide and raise their spirits of strength and health.

Periodically I'm compelled by the great Force of Iron to remind us of
mankind's unnatural descent and impending vulnerability. Kinda like
pointing out ones fly is open or blouse is unbuttoned or mouth is
drooling or nose is dripping or clock is ticking and it's getting
late. Fix it if you care -- you certainly can -- before it's too late.

Our workouts are our first and last stand against the deterioration of our bodies, the wiles of the world and the destruction of the same.
They are also fun and exciting, fulfilling and lovable. And they work
most effectively when accompanied by smart eating practices.

Secrets, concealed facts and obscure truths flow from my long-sealed
lips like pouring rain. You're all wet, my friend.


Eat better, train harder, be tougher, think surer and rest MORERE (How very Lewis Carroll, innit? Than Goodness I am not into Alice’s bands and white pinnies !)
Of course, there's always the slightly expanded version:

1) Late flash! Gaining lean muscle weight is a slow process. Lots of
good food, hard training, guts and persistence required. One must not
pursue weight gain randomly or surrender to the tediousness of the
process. Backward steps are too hard to recover. Never give up.

2) Seeking lean muscle only is a frustrating mission as few -- I've
known three or four -- are blessed with the superior metabolism and
genetic blueprint. And waiting for lean muscle to grow is like
watching a pot of water, it never boils.

3) Though lean muscle mass is the desired goal, gaining muscle mass,
or bulk, a solid composition of muscle and essential adipose tissue,
is the more common achievement of size-conscious musclebuilders.

4) Well distributed bulk is appealing, useful and rewarding for most
lifters with long-term goals and a tolerance for temporary
bodybuilding smoothness. Proper bulk provides strength and energy to
overload the muscles during a workout (hypertrophy) and plenty of
tissue building resources for muscle development.

5) Guess what... The lifter must eat more and better meals -- a
balance of complete protein, nutrient-dense carbs and non-greasy fat
meals. Eat smaller portions more frequently throughout the day without failure for better nutrient absorption, more consistent
tissue-building provisions and less system overload. Break out the
Tupperware and embrace the routine of preparing meals for the road.
Missed meals are backward steps.

6) Drink lots of water. I repeat -- water, water and water and no soda pop. Soda is a crime, water is divine. While on the subject, no junk, no rubbish, no kidding.

7) Most serious muscle builders drink milk, eat dairy, consume eggs
and include red meat in their diet. There's more: A quality protein
powder as a dietary supplement and meal fortifier is a most effective
and convenient weight gain tool.

8) Remember: Fresh fruit and salads are invaluable for weight gain,
health and system vitality. EFAs from olive oil, flaxseed and fish add health to the body and calories to your musclebuilding diet. I
periodically forget to include the above and suspect you do, too.
Living foods and essential fats are great warriors and supportive
cheerleaders. Lock and load! Go, muscles, go!

9) Workout sessions, along with meal regularity, take center stage.
Know yourself, know your training and persistently bomb it without
overtraining and without failing. Common sense, instinct, practice,
trial and error, observation and time teach... guide. Missed workouts
are backward steps.

Limit your aerobic schedule to three 30-minute blasts a week and think training intensity (OK, make it 45 minutes, as some of you well aware this is what I do anyway). I have an acquaintance who doesn't do any aerobic activity, convinced it interferes with his mass gains and muscle retention. He adds the conserved time and energy to his regimen of intense weight training, believing his thus-amped training is sufficient for cardiovascular health. Hmm...

10) Rest and relaxation are as important as drive and vitality to
developing lean muscle. Snooze good, rest and de-stress regularly, and meditate on building a strong body and mind and soul when musing.


The secrets are revealed, the buried treasures uncovered, the gems of
truth are fixed in settings of gold. Light replaces darkness.

Peculiar thing about musclebuilding secrets, there aren't any.

When you're a bodybuilder, nothing is new. The only thing remaining is hard work, love, hope and faith.





Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 15-11-2007 08:48
"C" to "C" Training...

Stands for "Chest&Calves". Contains the following:

1. Standing Calf Raises.
2. Seated Calf Raises.
3. Donkey Raises.
4. Seated Toe Presses.


1. Peck-Decks.
2. Cable Flyes.
3. Incline DB Presses.
4. Weighted Dips.

All that, if you are ME and on the good day. If you still want to get a taste of same ol' ME, but on the bad day, then "C" TO "C" could stand for "COFFEE&CROISSANTS" (Mocca and Pain au Chocolate).





Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 14-11-2007 08:42
Morning Labour of Love...
The whole 45 minutes of it. Nothing kinky, in case you were hoping for something juicy. But "hot and steamy action"? Yes, you could defenitely call it that. For, I am all foaming, very un-lady like, and panting, like an obscene telephone caller.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 12-11-2007 10:13
Once Upon a Time @ Work...







Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 09-11-2007 07:40
Hello, Obesity. Sit. Have a Doughnut.

They are told, but nobody listens. The word is out, but they do not
respond. It's in the news, but none heed the message. Magazines
inform, newspapers report, the television declares and the internet
details hard-hitting facts, embarrassing truths and alarming
consequences, but the points are ignored.

Obesity kills. Eat right. Exercise regularly. Be responsible. Teach
your children. Be aware: Diabetes, heart failure and cancer lurk.

Have we descended too far? Have we gone downward too long? Is the
momentum too great? Is there no turning back? Have we lost our will?
Our way? Are we weak and numb, ignorant and lazy?

The overweight exposure has grown long hair and fangs and howls like a wolf in the town square. Rather than correct a wrong or prevent a
disease, cure an illness or aright a social aberration, we have
ignored it, we have apologized for it and perpetuated it. Obesity,
weight-impairment, is linked to -- the result of -- caused by our
misdirected childhood, the stresses of living, global warming,
pesticides, environmental anomalies, the unconscionable fast-food
industry and carbon footprints in the sand.

Please, spare me the pathetic details. You ever see the size of the
sit-read-compute researchers making these obscene postulations?
They're humongous, I betcha. They love their French fries and Big
Macs.

Moreover, we (they, rather; hunky pc society, hungry business
opportunists, overweight-activists, governmental grant researchers)
have arranged alternatives and conveniences to accommodate what is
largely a weakness (lack of control, absence of discipline, need for
distraction, apathy), leading to an epidemic of costly diseases (heart
problems, diabetes, cancer) which shorten lives, discourage or trump
preemptive resolutions and raise insurance rates and medical costs
across the board.

The problem: We eat too much, we eat the wrong foods, and we don't
exercise.

Solution: Exercise, eat right, be responsible.

I sound like I'm high 'n mighty and I'm ranting 'n raving. NOT! Well,
maybe just a little. I'm mostly a concerned observer with his own
dysfunctions who sees a landscape of neat kids approaching their teens
on the brink of disaster. They're happy, innocent rolly pollies about
to face the consequences of their up-to-now acceptable (normal, I'm
sorry to say) condition. Before long, buds, it's show time.
Shame on us. Fatness is a mistake, not an accident, and we've led them to its commission... we propagate the troubling condition.

Guys can handle it. Overweight can be disguised as big. They can use
it on the football field. They can wear XL pullovers that say Broncos
on the back. They can lean on lighter kids. Girls can't. Guys have
lotsa testosterone. Girls don't. Guys are guys. Girls aren't. Thank
heaven.

Girls are responsible for more important things like bosoms and
bottoms and small waists. Their girlfriends admire such attributes,
society acclaims them and dopey guys drool over them.
It makes me mad and sad. The problem is a big problem, collectively
and individually, because it's been a work in progress for a long,
long time. The stomachs protrude like beach balls, and they are
neither fun nor funny. They didn't appear overnight. They're major
construction projects, serious developments.

I'm sounding like a meanie (a bum, yes -- mean, no), but the problem
is larger than oversized midsections.

Where's the basic human intelligence, the common sense?
Where are the personal responsibility, healthy pride and self-control?
Where are the minds, hearts and souls?
Where are the parents and role models, schools and educators?
Where's concern for self and the whole, one's people, one's nation?
Daydreamers beware. A concerned overweight person ought not to seek to
be slick, svelte and sassy. Not yet, later maybe. He or she ought to
take wise and comfortable steps to lose fat and condition him or
herself regularly, day by day, every day, for good. Remember and never
forget: The rewards are instant and constant and reap dividends
forever. Seed-sized efforts for a vast harvest of achievement. Think
big where it counts.

Again, the causes of common obesity are simple: poor food choices,
poor eating habits, over-consumption and inactivity.
The eating thing is no secret -- more balance and less indulging. Eat
less of most things and stop eating the wrong things; more living
foods and less processed foods, more musclebuilding proteins and fewer
fat-building empty carbs, and no greasy trans fats, ya rats. Eat smaller
balanced meals more frequently, increase water consumption and add a
quality vitamin-mineral supplement daily. No booze, no smokes, no fizz,
no whining.

Neither is the exercise thing a covert operation -- more vigorous
activity and less idleness. Walk more, jog if you can or ride the
stationary bike regularly; establish a gym (at home or downtown) and
use it regularly and vigorously. Follow the simple program listed at
the end of this discourse and remember, it works, as does a dripping
faucet in filling buckets. The faucet is adjustable, by the way.
Life, besides being unfair, is full of inconveniences. Eating right
and blasting it can be dern near impossible in the world of
opportunity -- overtime, kid's football practice, finals, holidays and
the beer and ice cream in the fridge.

We need tools, aids and armaments to succeed. Will, desire, need and
certainty are the handy tools in our toolbox for effective
construction. Self-control, persistence, compromise and smart planning
are the feathered arrows in our quiver if we're to hit the target, the
bull's-eye.

Ah, but there's always a tempered glitch. The causes of jiggles and
tight jeans can sometimes be complicated: hormonal, metabolic,
glandular and genetic. Here excuses are not necessary. We have
reasons.

Whoever, whatever, whenever or why, the stubborn predicament must be
attended. The overweight condition has a way of becoming a permanent
condition the longer it accompanies us and grows comfortable.
If I was 30 to 70 years old and about to mount the bucking bull --
roller coaster if you prefer -- of weight loss, musclebuilding and
conditioning for the first time since the launching of the Arc, this
is what I'd do:

1) Reality check -- I'd recognize the seriousness of the matter, make
a commitment to resolve it and set a realistic goal. I'd prepare for
compromise and hard, loving work regularly.

2) I'd exercise every day for 30 to 60 minutes (what a relief!), which
would include a 30-minute midsection plus aerobic workout (walk, jog
or bike, plus crunches), alternated with a 60-minute weight workout.
3) I'd dig up some basic nutritional info on the Internet and
outline a high-protein, medium good fat and good carb, low-cal diet
and follow it like a puppy follows its best friend -- eagerly,
innocently, lovingly, always and everywhere. You know this stuff, just
do it!

4) A routine can be as simple as four push and pull exercises
(dumbbell presses, pull downs, curls and dips) for 3 sets x 12, 10, 8
reps and some lunges and deep knee bends. That's all. Work up to it
over time. Enjoy the time, drink of its incalculable worth and
remember: It's more important than most everything else you do. It
supports and adds years of quality to every facet and fiber of your
life. Don't hurry your workout, don't chase it away, enjoy it. It's
here and now. It works.

5) Let your light shine.

Feels like spring in London today. Good weather for plucking daisies
and doing tailspins. Don't try these activities at the same time...
without practice, goggles, a nose guard and collision insurance... a
fistful of four-leaf clovers, one rabbit's foot, a lucky penny...
feeding the pets, saying goodbye, canceling travel plans, confessing
your sins...




Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 07-11-2007 17:17
Triviality Of The Day...
It's great to be busy. Kinda reminds you, how good it is to... well... TO BE, really.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 06-11-2007 07:20
The Cup, Half Full...
Spilling over the brim, actually. My little paper goblet, that is. Just got my first morning double espresso (white, no sugar) from the canteen vending machine. Not that I am complaining, but instead of a single shot it's given me about four of them AND (get a load of this!) - all my money back! Who would argue now, that the best things in life are not free?

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 02-11-2007 07:27
The Truth Test.
Life is short, the days are swift, but the moments of doubt are long.
How are we progressing, we ask in accord. The inquiry is universal,
multifaceted and pervasive; the answer a wonder.

I have constructed a test of one question to determine the attributes
and advancement of attending, idle and curious -- a clever device to
spotlight the curiosity and resolve the mystery of how are we doing.

You load sixteen ton and what do you get?

A) Huge and ripped
B) Another day older
C) Deeper in debt
D) A sore back
E) Fulfillment
F) Pleasure

Choose one. The answer you select reveals your inner being -- your
character.

A) Optimistic B) Realistic C) Pessimistic D) Pathetic E)
Simplistic F) Sadistic

I enjoy and appreciate impromptu quizzes, don't you? They keep us
alert and on our toes. And they say we're all muscles and no brains.
Ha! Fooled 'em again, airheads.

So, how'd ya do?

Yeah, I know. Lotta Ds! But, hey, we try hard. We train hard. We blast it!
Our training is integral to our wellbeing and deserves special
attention. You know it, it's a fact of life and you endorse it highly.
It must be done and any postponement is costly and counterproductive,
feeble and destructive. Lift that iron, drop the junk food and move
like a lean machine, jellybean.
I know exactly how you feel.
Lifting weights, eating right and being conservative and disciplined in your living habits can be a real drag. The payoffs are grand, but the payments are often downright painful, troublesome and tedious. It's during these trying moments of discouragement and discomfort when our character and courage -- our core strengths -- are created, defined and engaged.

We press on or we falter, step forward or stumble backward, reach
ahead or rest on our broadening haunches. I cannot relax and enjoy
life if I let it go. Only when I grasp life, the precious gift, am I
strong and deserving, relieved of stress and at peace with the moment.

A short and sweet workout today, one that stimulates the mind and
muscle and soul, is the perfect workout. Tomorrow it will bear legs,
the next day wings, and the day after air beneath those wings as they
spread wide and far. You're soaring.
About food, don't eat the whole pizza and drink the last beer. Get rid
of the soda and dump the chips. You don't need 'em and you won't miss
'em if they're not staring you in the face. Up the protein and lower
the sugar and greasy fat; take a supplement and drink more water, and
throw in some poptop tuna fasts when you feel mean and nasty, and
smile as the days go by and the fat evaporates and the strength grows
and the muscle tones.

Relax. It's what happens, man. It works.
No one enjoys dieting, sacrificing and denying, but it must be done if
you're going to lose the excessive 25 to 50 pounds of fat (who can
tell anymore?). Swell. Life stops for an endless season of hefting and
hoisting, spinning and chinning and veggies and fresh fruits and
teensy portions of fish and chicken and water.

We get a little touchy when the blood sugar is low and the iron is
heavy and the sinew is soft and time is wasting and the thrill is
gone.
Sometimes challenges work best when you keep them a secret all to
yourself -- you and your inner partner. You whisper, you coax and
coddle them.

Sometimes they work best when you set them on cruise-control and
disregard assessment and scrutiny. Let them be. They happen.

Sometimes you've got to carefully share them and examine them, press
and stretch them to make them work. A little help from your friends
can't hurt.

Sometimes they work best when you with confidence move them to center
stage and under the spotlight for everyone to see. There they are in
all their nakedness for observation and comment and criticism. Way to
go.

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 31-10-2007 19:15
My Thursday “To DO” List.
1. PT.
2. 7 miles Walk To Work.
3. Classes (Stability Ball, Step, Spin).
4. Monthly Paper Work.
5. Writing and Editing.
6. 7 miles Walk Home.
7. Jam Session (Plum Jam and Quincy Jam).
8. Chest and Calves Work Out.

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 29-10-2007 10:37
Daily Stats.
So Far:

Walk to work. 11.2km. 1 hour 20 mins.

Food.
Meal One. 7am. Scrambled Eggs (4 whites, one yolk, three table spoons of greek style yoghurt).
Meal Two. 10am. Grilled Salmon (150g). Two Celery Sticks.
Meal Three. 2pm. Grilled Salmon (100g).
Meal Four. Skipped it. Not hungry.

Walk home in an hour. 11.2km.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 27-10-2007 13:55
Getting My Sleigh Ready...
[IMG][/IMG]


Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 26-10-2007 07:58
Robert Frost.
Great American Poet and one of my favourites.


"Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening".

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.



Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 25-10-2007 07:09
Today - I am JK ...
...and "going deeper underground". For a while.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 24-10-2007 07:06
Upstairs, Downstairs...
Good training combo for your body parts' "leftovers". I found it pays off to work out this way sometimes. Putting together something from the upper and lower regions in order to shake things up a bit, to freshen up ol'n'tired routine and to have some fun in the process.

Last night's Up'n'Down session:
1. Calves.
2. Hamstrings.
3. Biceps.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 22-10-2007 09:41
Wearing Gloves Today...
Firstly because it's very cold (feels like real winter); and, secondly, to give anyone, who might all of a sudden decide to become affectionate, a chance to call me "my beGLOVEd".
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 20-10-2007 07:23
I Had a Dream...
I usually do. About every night, and no less then three of them each time.
Last night there were no breaks in my car, and I had a VERY long hair.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 19-10-2007 07:23
I Dare You to be Sensible.
Need a nudge? That's like asking do you need a few extra quid.
Everybody I know needs a little, or a lot, of both. Today, for
example, I could use a stack of hundreds and someone with a big stick
to drag me to the gym. Instead, My Other Half and I will drag each other and
have fun in the process.

We are two of the many determined lifters who have decided to
make a difference in their (I am sounding like a TV commercial now). We're loose and we're cool; we're bold, bound and determined.
Anybody crazy enough can be an iron-made, steel-spirited winner. United we stand, my friends: Make muscle, lose fat, get ripped, be bigger, stronger and faster -- the choice is yours (I am serious -- this is embarrassing).



Join the gym gang whenever you get the urge, when the pressure becomes
too much to bear, when you feel like a loser standing on the lonely
and conspicuous sidelines observing the action, when you notice your
muscles shriveling and your bulk jiggling and your joints stiffening
while shuffling about -- a mere spectator, when beaming men and women
energetically pass you by, and a thin film of dust settles on your perspiration-free forehead and carefully coiffed hair as you safely watch the fun and games, and, perhaps, before it's too late to enjoy the exhilarating, fulfilling and fruitful journey ahead should you act now. Take your time. What's the rush? It'll be over be ya know it.


However, those who lag the iron daily, the open and forward ones, reap the
most delicious and abundant fruits of the adventure. Accountability
and visibility work. Risk -- daring -- is part of the attitude that
sets us in motion, propels us ahead and thrusts us over obstacles. I'm
me, such as I am, and I'm moving on, I'm moving up, I'm moving out.


We get downright lackadaisical and simpering when bombarded by daily
living. Up in the morning and catch a ride on the roller coaster,
buckle up and hold on, inhale a lungful of toxins and scream, absorb a
mindful of chaos and groan. Let's face it, what're the alternatives?
Duck, here it comes; Run and hide; Rant and rave; Feed your face;
Order another tall one; Play dead?

A smart alternative for safe, satisfying and far-reaching travel is to
train hard, eat right and be strong. The road ahead is full of twists and
turns, steep slopes and sudden drops, and needs iron reinforcement all
along the way.



I train five six days a week without skipping a beat. The workouts average 90 minutes, 25 to 30 sets plus midsection, and I push more than I should, like 90-percent max. I don't rush, but I do push. It seems quite okay at the time, but fatigue never too far away. Sometimes it follows me home like a lost and angry gorilla. She hangs out and glares.



Excuse me, kids, I'm a little blue. Must be the early signs of winter:
dull grey skies, chilly and wet. I mimic my surroundings like a
chameleon. My skin, come to think of it, is looking a lot like the
little lizard's as well.

[I'm pretending to be weak, to have a dark side. This is difficult,
near impossible, but I must maintain an appearance of real-world
credibility. And, too, I cannot help but consider your comfort. If I'm
always up, you'll sense the contrast between us and find me
obnoxious.... Well, thanks a lot, mate. I think you just might have a
small attitude problem.]



But as sure as spring comes after the dark season, I will eat and train and feel fine again. After all pumping is what I do best. Just get me couple of fifties, buckle my weight lifting belt and off I go, flying into the sunrise.

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 18-10-2007 07:24
Morning Bout of Optimism...
Life is largely what you think about it.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 17-10-2007 16:19
B and B-style training.
Oh, how I dearly wish it would stand for "Bed and Breakfast". And that wonderfully satisfying work would then consist of lifting warm buttered toast to my rosy-fresh morning pout while, at the same time, stretching luxuriously on crisp linen bed sheets. No such luck, I am afraid, has ever been bestowed on me, and the only B/B kind of exercise I do normally involves slightly heavier set of plates, then the ones you would see piled up with food on the breakfast tray.

Two muscle groups, both called "BICEP" could be quite safely put together for a good, if slightly different, pumping blast.
First one - your usual suspect, front of the arm bender - Bicep Brachii.
Second one - two headed monster situated between the gluts and the calves and responsible for the same curling action. Of the leg. The brute also known as Hamstring.

Bicep.

1. Straight BB Curls.
2. EZ BB Curls.
3. Alternative DB Curls.
4. Concentrated DB Curls.

Hamstring.


1. Lying leg Curls.
2. Stiff legged Dead Lifts.
3. Lunges.


Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 16-10-2007 07:14
The Morning After...
...The Night Before...

Definitely too much cardio yesterday. Should've taken it easier. And since that was not the case, would have to pay the heavy price today - all this little aches and pains will make tonight's training not the most pleasant experience, I'm afraid. As a result had to keep early cardio session sweet and short (20 mins. only) and now really looking forward to the next best thing - double espresso con pana from "Starbucks" coffee shop (with an extra helping of Magnesium).
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 15-10-2007 11:04
"Star Trek". Captain's Training/Eating Log...
Morning Cardio. 7 miles brisk walk to work. An hour-and-twenty-minutes.

Food.
Meal One. Egg-whites omlet. (4 whites, one yolk).
Meal Two. See meal One.
Meal Three. Still to come. Chicken breast (100g), two celery sticks.
Meal Four. See Meal Three.
Meal Five. Ditto.

Evening Cardio. 7 miles VERY brisk walk home.

Training tonight. Calves and Back.

Meal Six. Protein shake.

Beware, Cling-Ons, The Voyager is on the prowl.

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 14-10-2007 17:48
Better Get This Party Started...
...or we might never begin. From today on I am hell bent on becoming hugely efficient, rigidly systematical, pedantically methodical and awfully boring. Am I ever anything else?
It's only seven weeks till the day I set for myself as a dead line - 8th of December. My birthday. The D-day, on which I would, hopefully, unleash another assault on unsuspecting "Harbour" crowd and unveil the results of professional studio work. Unless, of course, due to my cheap skate, thrifty, scrimping nature, I would have a change of heart and find a decent enough excuse not to deprive my family from their hard earned cash and turn to the help of my friends instead. In which case my fans and admirers will be treated to Ms. Vendetta's expertise usage of mobile phone (a-g-a-i-n!!!) and get a chance to see another one of our DIY photo shooting sessions.

Since the word of promise has always been legally binding for me, I fully intent to put my money, where my mouth is and stick with it. From tomorrow there will be no cheat meals any more, and I am on to serious carbs' depletion. One carbohydrate meal a day and only 75 grams of it. Lots of cardio (twice a day, 45 mins. each time) and highly intensive gym work outs. If you happen to pop in accidentally and find the contents of my entries depressing, blunt or lacking any flavour, I couldn't care less. I pretty much enjoyed doing it first time around and fully intent to build up enormous appetite while having a second helping of it.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 13-10-2007 08:58
A Bit of Ol' Poetry...
And whoever wakes in England,
Sees some morning unaware..."

SOME, but not I. It's a lovely one today.

X-trainer - 45mins.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 12-10-2007 08:13
They Who Blast, Last....
What possesses a man or woman to abandon his or her training has long
been a mystery to me. There are countless reasons blended with assorted excuses, and many are valid:loss of interest, disappointment, troublesome, tiresome and painful.
All are sufficient grounds for giving up mere exercise. Ah, but not
for aborting one's solid and bold training.

Exercise and training are as alike as Playschool and Eaton, the
Member-of-the-Month Club and the Navy. Exercise is walking,
occasional jumping jacks and eating your veggies. Training is pushing
the iron with passion and balancing your protein intake with valuable
carbohydrates, fats and micronutrients. Exercise is cute; training is
powerful.
Iron Addicts are either training, or discovering training. They have
exercised and endured and are evolving as ironheads with calluses, a
repertoire of routines for power, mass and muscular definition and a
cupboard full of supplements. Mere exercise has been replaced with a
training lifestyle that positively affects everything in their lives,
job, sport, relationships, health, nature, mind and soul.

As so aptly avowed in the hallowed pages of Zen and the Resounding
Clang of Iron, training is not time-consuming. Training is. Training
is not effortful. Training is.
Why and where did this coach potatoes go wrong? Are they in a slump, behind closed doors, under a spell, over a barrel, in the closet or out to lunch?
The depths of a man's mind are unfathomable.

An aggressive confrontation with the “What ifs?” of the situation will resolve the matter. No man or woman of sound mind can walk away from the steel-hard, iron-cold truth.

What if I don't train and what if I do? Let's take a look at the
possibilities and make a choice.

Remember, training is the devoted practice of well-planned
weightlifting, smart eating and daily care and rest. Training is not
walking the dog, eating celery sticks and holding your stomach in.

What if I don't train? Holy smoking guns! Just presenting the notion
causes me to cringe, like I made a blasphemous statement before the
raging spirits of muscle and power. The thunder I heard, that flash of light -- tell me these were my imagination.
Let's try that again. Ask yourself

*** What if I don't train?

~ You shrivel up and die within seconds. Just kidding! It takes days.
Still kidding. Personally, I'm hoping humor will protect me from
obliteration, an old-fashioned superstition steeped in mystery and
fact. When I don't train (never happens), I slyly wear a wooden cross
around my neck to guard me from demons.

~ Guilt is immediate, and eats away at the soul.

~ The muscles die from lack of stimulation and tender, loving care.

~ You become confused -- life and things become less clear. Disorder
rules, collapse is inevitable.

~ You care less, as there is less to care for and care about.

~ Stress mounts, as that which dissipated the dreadful disease is no
longer present.

~ People point and stare and whisper about your squishy arms and
jelly belly. People can be cruel.

~ What once was light in weight becomes indescribably heavy. Oooff is
an unappealing (and most revealing) sound you make more and more
frequently, like, when carrying out the garbage.

~ Your snug T-shirt fits like a sack and your baggy sweatpants like a
leotard. Cute.

~ You find it fatiguing to order pizza and beer from Joe's Place. You
wish they'd just send it automatically.

~ Great energy is expended moving from the recliner to bed after the
late show, nevermind moving iron from the squat rack to the bench
press after work.

~ The only discipline you exhibit is when your dog drags you around
the block for the evening poop ‘n scoop. Down, Spot.

*** What if I do train?

~ Your stored fat and sugar will supply the fuel to get you in motion
and recommence the musclebuilding process.

~ Guilt vanishes, attitude brightens and you glow.

~ Life makes sense and purpose returns, and friendly calluses appear
on your strong hands.

~ Stress evaporates with each set and rep and groan of exertion.

~ Daily living is less of an effort, rather, no effort at all and
between supersets you find yourself pleasantly daydreaming of a long
and productive retirement. Focus! No daydreaming between sets!

~ The sun shines, the birds sing, the flowers grow and little
children play again. Hi, Mister, what big muscles you have.

~ Walk past a construction site, girls, and the guys whistle. Guys
are as dumb as wood.

~ Pizza and beer is replaced by "Muscle Tech" protein shake and grilled chicken breast.

~ You consider canceling your will and life insurance. Who needs it?

~ Discipline is restored, procrastination is eradicated and tasks
become incidentals.

~ Joy is discovered in labor and thanks are given on all occasions.

~ Energy is restored and perseverance is revived and both are applied
as regularly as breathing in and breathing out.

~ True self-confidence replaces fragile wishful thinking. I can do
this!


When confronted with the grim choice, to train or not to train, don't
think about it. That's not a choice; that's a no-brainer. Go to the
gym and engage the entire body in a healthful, sporty and
musclebuilding workout.

More thoughts for the earnest:

~ Anything is better than nothing. Just be there. It only gets
better.

~ Do what you want to do and what you like to do, not what you think
you must do. Don't be a taskmaster. Not yet, anyway!

~ Good workouts are alive with the sound of music. Listen. Sing
along, hum, tap your feet. Do something!

~ The first exercise is the hardest. The first sets and reps count.
Engage! Momentum is near and momentum builds.

~ Training is not going through the motions, an irritable thing to be
gotten out of the way or a chore to be over and done with.

~ Training is a primary source of light and life. Wake up, breathe
deeply, look around and give thanks. You are here and now, the
beginning and end. Hello.

~ Basic and simple, push and pull, trust, be consistent and develop.

~ No junk food, no whimpering, no leaving till you're done.

In doubt, fed up, lost, up to your ears and otherwise blue? Train
every other day with the weights for 30 to 60 minutes, and cycle and
work midsection on the alternate days for 30 minutes. All better now!

Choose five push and pull exercises for three sets of 8 to 10
repetitions (my choice: dumbbell incline press, seated lat row,
low-reaching lying triceps extension, barbell curl and bent-over
lateral raise). That's all it takes to jump-start a winged machine.
Once she's sputtering, she'll pick up speed and catch some air, and
flight is as real and miraculous as the stars in the sky.

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 11-10-2007 16:59
"Brief Encounter". "Harbour" - style.
[IMG][/IMG]
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 10-10-2007 18:29
Putting It All Behind Me.
Now, with the company’s “Quality Management Audit” over, done with and off my back, I fully intend to fill up the free space with a completely different kind of workload. Iron grid variety, NOT the “Excel” one. Reall stuff. Heavy duty type. The sort you see in Mike Mentzer's books and subjected to, if you follow his system, or try out one of his still existing training programmes.
Being a fan and a follower of the “Mentzal One” and having my back free for the first time in ages, tonight I am going to let rip: to spread my wings and to get my own back.

1. Wide Grip Chin Ups (to the front). 5 X max.
2. Seated Pulley. 6 X 15-20.
3. Bent Over BB Row. 5 X 15-20.
4. Bent Over One Armed DB Row. 5 X 15-20.
5. Wide Grip Chin Ups (behind the neck). 3 X max.

**************************************************
*******************

After the training... ...

[IMG][/IMG]



[IMG][/IMG]

[IMG][/IMG]

MASHA -
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 09-10-2007 18:23
No Day, Like a Fool's Day...
If I were an artist with an ambitious aspiration to create an abstract piece reflecting the mishaps and peculiarities of my most hectic and turbulent day of the year, today would be ideal. It went Calamity Jane style straight from the moment I set my foot outside the front door and kept getting progressively worse. I let you be the judges of that.

1. 5am. Bus stop. Swiped my "Oyster" card and discovered I've no money on it. None in my purse either (Damn!).
2. Went to the cash machine in the Shopping Centre (15 minutes of valuable traveling time lost!), took a tenner out, went back, got on the bus and... ... rode it for free. Driver had no change and just waved me through. (Sh***t!)
3.Half past six at work. Last bag of big towels for the members on the busiest day of the week and delivery is not coming till at least three in the afternoon. (Wonderful!)
4. Builders started stripping the tiles in the men's shower room at seven and carried on banging and smashing things for two hours (That's all I need!)
5. A very annoying woman (gym tourist, who is only coming to the centre occasionally and mostly to do her hair) spent about thirty minutes on the bike, reading magazine and talking on the phone, and then an hour-and-a-half in front of my desk, complaining and moaning about our little "shower rota" and how inconvenient she finds it. (Oh, For Goodness Sake!)
6. With the stupid b**tch finally gone, some peace and quiet temporarily restored, and yours truly, applying my exhausted self to the first espresso of the day with all the gusto of caffeine junkie on the substance abuse bender, it came as a nasty shock to hear the metallic voice from the loudspeakers:" May I have your attention, please! May I have your attention, please!... ..." Bloody fire alarm and the fire drill. 21- floor walk downstairs (plus about 10 more to make up the height of the lobby, plus four of the basement and then two up) and subsequent quarter-of-an-hour wait under the heavy rain outside. (WHY ME, G-O-D???!!!)
7. Half two in the afternoon. DLR to "Bank". Effing "Oyster" reader took 4 pounds for the 12 minutes journey. (But, of course!)
8. Half three Greenwich time. Got off the train at my station. Didn't want to wait for the bus during school rush and there was no way I would've been able to come home dry considering our very own British Niagara falling down from the sky since 10 in the morning. (Curse and Damnation!)
9. Went to "Superdrug" to buy an umbrella. I've got four at home, where they always remain, safe and dry and neatly stacked in their cosy mahogany stand. No sooner have I paid 9.99 for a very stylish little parasol (the sign above the stand actually said 2.99 and there wasn't price tag attached to mine) and open it outside "Tesco", that the rain stopped and the sun deigned to show its' cheeky, smiley face. (It NEVER rains, but POUR!!!)

Looks like a perfect day for a fool's delight - an apple tart. Which, thankfully, I've got a recipe for (courtesy of Xelenka). Well, you never know, with my luck it could easily turn out to be "Pineapple-upside-down"!


Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 08-10-2007 07:45
Low Goal Friendly...
If you've ever watched a game of polo you'd know, what it meant.
On Mondays I am well and truly underhandicaped, and there is nothing remotely friendly about me.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 06-10-2007 09:34
The Hook Is Getting Deeper.
It’s a tough day when you discover you can’t live without your training, specifically weight training. Oh, you’ll live, alright -- I tend to exaggerate -- but not without anguish. An important part of you, something similar to your heart and soul, spouse or first born, is missing.
This iron-hoisting stuff grows on you like a Cockney accent. Innit?

It usually starts with wanting to lose a little fat and gain a little muscle. Toning is good. It then proceeds to feeling exhilarated and, well, sort of strong. Your clothes fit better, tighter in a good place and looser in another good place. “Excuse me, miss; do you have this in petite?” or “Hey, mate, I’ll take one of those fitted Ts in XL... that’s extra-large.”
One day someone asks if you’ve been working out. You say, “Excuse me?” You heard the person’s inquiry the first time, but you have him repeat it again. Shucks! An avalanche of humility shrugs from your contorting shoulders as you inflate your chest, flex your lats, contract your triceps and grow red-faced gasping, “Well, yeah, maybe, a little.”

Toning is okay for beginners, you decide, but lean muscle is really where it’s at. Give me baseball biceps balanced on horseshoe triceps and shoulders simulating smoldering cannonballs… or a flat tummy carried by firm legs and a bottom that doesn’t jiggle when ya wiggle. I can do this!
Novelty wears off, as novelty does, and lifting becomes a habit akin to eating and sleeping and paying your bills. Last month, however, they shut off the water and repoed the car, but you didn’t miss a single workout. What’s that all about? You notice, too, you now have five pair of sneakers and a special shelf in the closet neatly arranged with sweatpants and very cool, well-worn T-shirts with the necks cut out.

Disciplines, the cruel guidelines against which you once strongly rebelled, are now the character-building credos by which you live. Where’d that come from? Train hard, eat right and be strong! What are you, nuts? What happened to play, plop and please yourself?
There was a time when you’d rather confess your sins publicly in the town square than go to the gym on Sunday, or any day for that matter. Now, Sunday at the gym is a special time cuz it’s empty and the clang you hear is your clang, the breathing, your breathing. Secretly, you suspect because this is a sort of sacrificial workout, and because no one but you is drawing upon the energy and oxygen of the gym, and because you are so valiantly alone and so utterly close to the iron, as if at one with its molecular transfusion, muscular growth must be unadulterated and unobstructed, absolute, direct, pure and free. I’m just saying...

Sunday at the gym is a rush.

You think that’s weird, here’s the kicker. The guilt you experience upon missing a workout is huge and fast. How did you back yourself into this pinched and poorly illuminated corner? You dare forego the gym for a non-emergency occasion -- eating, drinking and being merry -- and the pain is deep and unforgiving. Skip a workout and you lose a pound of muscle, skip two and you gain a pound of fat, skip three, you’re a mess and they come and take you away. Your diet is subject to similar limitations and penalties, tuna and water the most common and grievous.
But it’s worth it, you say, the compromise, the pain, the isolation and the peculiarities. You might not be all you want to be, but you’re not on the inside looking out. You managed to escape the ordinary, unhealthy world in its dullness and complacency, and have established goals and purpose and direction. You’re on the move, en route, becoming, fulfilling, developing and having a blast. Go on. Fall for it. Hook, line and sinker.

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 04-10-2007 13:06
Dilemma.
Corporate party tonight. In a posh restaurant in Covent Gardeh (wouldn't hurt to remember the name and the address of it as well). Oldest question in the world, and most frustrating one, since the invention of cave-girl's evening loin cloth: "What to wear?"
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 02-10-2007 07:26
DISSECTION...
... is not nice, if you're a frog. It's even worse if you just happen to be a human. It's called self-exploration then. Beastly...
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 01-10-2007 06:28
Очень Мрачный Понедельный Стих.
Что может быть
Безрадостней,
Чем в сотый и тысячный
Раз
Жизнь начинть "с понедельника",
Над собою в душе
Смеясь?

Мудрый сказал:
"В понедельники -
Даже кокос
Не растёт".
Жизнь не изменится старая.
Новая - не придёт.

Жизнь начинать
"С понедельника"-
Только людей потешать.
Вечное и разумное
В пыль болтовни превращать.

Разными и хорошими
Днями неделя
Полна.
Листья летят календарные.
Душу лишают
Сна.

Что ж мы себя обманываем?
Пишем черновики?
Жизни свои откладывая,
На понедельники?


Жизнь начинать
"С понедельника"-
Хуже Сизифова
Бремя.
Остановись. Подари себе
Без-Паник-дельное
Время.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 29-09-2007 10:24
As Promised To Vendetta...
Following our Friday's telephone conversation with Barnet's future cycling champion and well inspired by my friend's new fitness endevour, took my sorry overworked ass into gear and had two long overdue jogging sessions. Half-an-hour indoor one - last night on the tradmill (audible cheers and clapping from the impressed audience). And 45-minutes interval training in the park this very morning (standing round of ovation, shouts of "Bravo!" and "Encore!" from the adoring fans).


"R-U-N, Forest!!!"


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[Запись для всех] 27-09-2007 12:08
Put a Sock On It!.
Just noticed, that I am wearing the odd socks today. Intense purple on my right foot and bright pink on my left. Both – from the same set (pack of three pairs, 2 pounds @”Tesco”), each one covered in little dancing pigs – smiley, funny, fat and cute. Moved close together, my feet look, like an abstract painting. Something Picasso might’ve done in his early "Pig" “Pink” period. Makes me wonder, if I should get our maintenance, security and facilities management departments together and hold a little private auction and raise some cash to top up my piggy bank.


Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 26-09-2007 09:13
The Moon and Half Penny.
Dear old Somerset was, definitely, a romantic. And I am, emphatically, not. Conclusion, I came to, lust night, while walking on London Bridge and looking over the metallic sheen of the River Thames at the distant Tower Bridge and the full moon hanging over it’s right turret.
The scene and the surrounding might seem ideal and idyllic to some people, but to my sardonic eye it didn’t appear even remotely poetic. If anything, it looked very grim, utterly sober, entirely unsentimental and slightly industrial. In the way a derelict abandoned Hackney warehouse, at night, on the bank of the water canal, could've been painted by an artist, belonging to the School of Impressionism.
Soppy romanticism, I thought, walking briskly towards Liverpool Street Station, is highly overrated.
A Tuppence for your Moon, Mr. Moem.

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 25-09-2007 07:48
Path Of Enlightenment…
... Is steep and dangerous. And sometimes leads to places most unexpected and produces effects most dramatic. Take last weekend, for instance. For two days on a row (make it three, actually, as Monday needs to be thrown in, as well), I was educating myself in all earnesty and sincerity, believing naively, that very interesting documentary about Rudolf Nuriev with the rare footage of his early career stages, on BBC Two (at twelve midnight!), on Saturday; the whole Sunday of Roald Dahl (including ”Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory”); and, finally, yesterday’s journalistic investigation into the world of “haut couture”, will enormously enhance my informational storage and, fulfilling Bridget Jones’s favourite dream, take me that one step closer to becoming all-rounded person, gives me an ability to chat effortlessly at any high society party (if aver invited) and to vow the assembled motley crew with my brilliant conversational skills and formidable intellect.

Well, in a way it did. I taught a Beginners’ Ballet Class on Monday, influenced by awesome Rudy’s leaping, tippy-toed, tightly clad genius. As a result of “Roald Dahl’s Disgusting Book Of Rules” film, my family was able to enjoy a huge unashamedly luxurious chocolate cake “Forresta Nera” (the greate writer was very fond of sweets, apparently). And high fashion ritz-and glitz inspired a spontaneous purchase (the impromptu ones are always the best in my experience) of this season’s “must have”: satin, light-weight parka, khaki in colour, with lots of pockets, strings, puffs-and gathers, metallic zips and studs and a nipped-in waist. Needless to say – I look divine in it.
Now, who said the education is lost on me?

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 22-09-2007 18:27
Contentment, the Luster of a Life. Complacency, the Rust
September has been a month of incredible weather in our
little hunk of a country, deliciously hot, sunny and dry, while
flooding rains, heat waves and hurricane winds visit the rest of the
globe. I grow anxious as I reflect upon my written word. Good luck
does not frequent us and I therefore suspect a fire or
earthquake is in the stars, which is weird because I don't believe in
luck or in the stars.

Responding to the uncertainty of the future, I've decided not to make
any long-term training goals this fall. Rather, I shall do the best I
can do with what I have, one day at a time. Advancement, development,
improvement and progress are my daily objectives, but the 2007
Over-the-Hill Ms. Olympia is over my head.
This day-by-day approach -- to be the best we can be, to move forward
and press on daily without overloading ourselves with impossible
visions -- is not a bad approach anytime and all the time. It is real
and down to earth. Having never been much of a dreamer, but more an
accident in progress, I don't agree with the new-wave societal notion
touting you can be who you want and get what you want if you just
believe in yourself and go for it.

This is not mankind's strength on display; it's his ego and pride, his
arrogance and ignorance, his me-first and you-later selfishness; it's
his corruptible weakness and the world's number one enemy.

Believe in yourself, if you're worthy, but don't be discouraged when
you awake from the big dream. Instead, be humble and refreshed. Now
you can apply your gifted imagination and create something useful with
it, like authentic muscle and might and character, heart and soul, set
by set, day by day.

Have you noticed we don't live in a long-term, goal-setting world
anymore? I have this feeling inside that urges me to get done what I
can get done, now. Tomorrow will come, no problem, but don't waste any
time. Got something to do, do it!

It's the evolving dynamic -- urgency rules. I'm no less driven, just
driven by a peculiar impetus and less-than-upbeat perspective. Must be
something in the six-o'clock news, the worldwide mood, the
all-knowing, all-consuming computer.

We need to find joy in our daily living and our daily training. And
where doth joy come from? It comes from here, there and everywhere --
people, places and things, you for starters. You're driving this
flesh-and-bone machine, it's your vehicle; you wash it, fuel it and
keep it on the road. Hot rod, classic, European sports or all-American
muscle, you want this baby to hum and gleam, turn a few heads and
cruise on down the highway. Zoom, zoom...
Of course, there are your family and friends and folks around you.
They see what you do, and respect you and respond to your acts and
deeds and accomplishments. Or not! Isn't it cool when you're on top of
the training heap, eating right, exercising regularly and in control?
Now that's joy! Joy begets joy, joy is contagious, joy is real and
long-lasting.

Joy is found in places, and I don't mean pubs, ice cream parlors and
Toys-R-Us. I'm talking about... yes, you guessed it... gyms: those
sanctuaries of gravity-laden implements and resistance-prone gadgets
requiring our deliberate exertion to shift and hoist. Sought-after
force is felt deep in the body, mind and soul where creation is born
and joy is spontaneous.

Joy is a dumbbell in motion, a barbell mid-flight. Joy equal training and pumping. Let us rejoice and be alive then. Today, tomorrow and ever after...
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 21-09-2007 12:32
A New Guide To Boobs' Size.
(A) - Almost Boobs.
(B) - Barely There.
(C) - Can't Complain!
(D) - Damn!
(DD) - Double Dumn!
(E) - Enormous!
(F) - Fake.

I am (B) by the way.


Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 20-09-2007 18:20
Butter Wouldn't Melt...
And it didn’t. The hard solidly frozen pack of creamy yellowish diary fat I took to work with me this morning, kept the perfect shape, firmness and texture all day. As though JUST taken our of the fridge. (I nibble at it, to stave the hunger pangs away, when I am minding the gym here, at Cockfosters, if you think you REALLY have to know. Sort of a sure-fire way of maintaining the calorific intake high, the insulin levels low and not to relieve the family of its’ weekly food supply on return home after 8 hours of starvation at work.)
I continually express my dissatisfaction (read "M-O-A-N" about the sub zero conditions I am subjected to, while on duty in Lloyds TSB. But today, being very impressed by what my pack of butter looked like I nearly relented and almost feel ready to change my mind. Who knows, if having to resemble frozen chicken twice a week all year round is not a perfect opportunity to live till I am hundred and still not to get too squidgy round the edges?
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 19-09-2007 15:19
Tit for Tat.
Please, note, that in this instance and in MY interpretation “TIT” being an operative word.(Shoud've been "TITS", in fact. Plural, NOT singular, sinse we are talking BOTH of my breasts here, but, for the sake of keeping the proverb intact, I'll leave it, as it is.)

If you really would like to know, it actually means “reciprocation” or “retaliation” in proper, “posh” English. And it does fit with the last night’s Chest training. For, what else would you expect after a lousy week of very bad cold for both of us, and as a result – almost no training? (Well, if you regard half an hour of X-training on Saturday morning, at about 40% my usual intensity, as a serious work out, then I am afraid there is not much choice, but to delete your name from my “Harbour” buddies’ list.)
The whole session went under “An Eye for a Flye. A Peck for a Deck. And Bench for a Wrench” slogan. With the vengeance. Even now, about 15 hours after, each fiber in my thoracic region, squeal in agony with every deep breath, expanding the rib cage, slightest cough (the cold’s not completely gone yet), or simple stretch to ease aching muscles a bit.

1. Peck-Deck. 5 X 12-15.
2. Seated “Hammer” Chest Press. 5 X 12-15. (Imitation of the Incline Chest Press).
3. Flat DB Bench Press. 5 X 12-15
4. Seated “Hammer” Chest Press. 4 X 12-15. (Equivalent of Flat BB Bench Press).
5. Standing Cable Cross-Overs. 4 X 15-20..



Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 18-09-2007 07:06
Gender-Bender.
Well, not in a U-turn sense, obviously, where, to the astonishment of all present, I would turn into two-ton mustached Nessy of a Bull Dyke overnight. I am referring more to the fact, that today I am working only half of my customary 14 hours shift. Workload, which I hold fully responsible for my diminishing statue, ebbing enthusiasm and becoming, almost literally, “half a man I used to be”. And THIS where the twist is coming from. Especially, if you consider, that despite my somewhat masculine profession, I am still and ONLY a woman.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 17-09-2007 10:59
17th of Septmber.
I didn’t want to write anything today. I didn’t even want to get out of bed, or walk to work, or, Heavens forbid, “meet and greet” members of my ”congregation”, listen to their problems, be nice to them, attentive or considerate. It’s the day I am dreading all year and secretly, in my heart of hearts, in the deepest of my soul, keep hoping it will never come again. Sometimes I even wake up in the morning and remember to breathe and forget, that it hurts, if I do. But then the pain comes back, the tightly curled ball of it unfurls inside my chest, and darkness falls once more, enveloping everything around me, leaving my mind racing round the same well beaten track of the same rhetorical questions:” Why? What for? What is the point?” and all the rest of them, which never had any answers and never will.
I don’t like talking about it, and never do, normally. Apart from here, in my diary, and on this day only. I found sympathy doesn’t help and shrinks’ favourite method of “opening up and making it better by expressing your feelings” makes it worse.
This is why I am not looking for either. I am just stating the facts.

Seven years ago. On this very dreadful and cursed day. My mum.

Nothing I could do, but get on with my life.


Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 16-09-2007 08:53
THAT kinda Sunday...
Whatever...
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 13-09-2007 10:19
Eating Humble Pie.
It doesn’t matter how passionate you are about what you’re doing for a living, when it’s too much of it (four months of fourteen hours almost every day, in my case) frustration might set in and resentment could gradually become one of the major feelings towards something formerly known as “love of your life”. You get up in the morning already shuttered and overwrought, with an absolutely clear and cruel idea of what to expect (today, tomorrow and forever): the whole long day still ahead of you, where time will stretch into hours and minutes dedicated to exhausting task of energy preserving in order to stay the course and to survive. I’ve noticed, that as a result of such a prolonged martyrdom, the certain tactics has somehow developed, the new lines of conduct have cropped up and particular type of behaviour has emerged. I’ve become very economical with my movements, and emotions. I don’t get too excited, or unduly hyper, or excessively friendly, or extremely interested, or immensely involved. I remain very professional but very cool, remote and detached. Without appearing arrogant and rude, I keep everybody at the arm’s length, away from my hair to protect my soul and to retain my sanity. True, it comes with the great price tag attached – namely, loosing some valuable and appealing part of my personality. But in the times of an upset and uproar one has to prioritise, to make smaller sacrifices, to save the bigger things, whatever the cost, AND sod the consequences.
If we are brutally honest, though, sometimes this whole mess of what my work somehow turned into gets to me so much, that I feel like giving in to a great temptation of blowing my top off, flying off the hanger, chucking the overtime money into my bosses faces, packing the job in, moving away from all this mad business of rat races, down to the country-side, to open a small and cosy Bed and Breakfast somewhere in the remotest corner of Cornwall, in the quiet and picturesque British sea side, and live happily ever after. Or, like last night on the way home from work, on the incredibly slow bus, stuffed with people right up to the red roof of its double-decked frame. After about twenty minutes I was practically hysterical with the amount of overheated smelly bodies, their stink and stench; decibells of the noise volume, din of mobile conversations, humm of the very audible music, coming from portable CD players, and some “strong language" (as they say in parents’ guides to adult films; thank Goodness there wasn’t any violence OR sex). At one point I had to quite literally clap my hands over my mouth and not to join in with the crowds’ mannerism by shouting some expletives at one very smelly black fellow, greedily devouring an apple two seats away from my own and making most disgusting sounds with his lips and tongue. And, after that pig has left the bus, had to endure almost a similar performance (just my luck always to bump into most obnoxious characters on the public transport!) from a filthy, fat teenage gypsy girl, completely occupied with chewing piece of gum and making bubbles with it. And a male Polish manual labourer hanging over my head with a mobile phone, glued to his ear, talking about “Agneshka, whom I’ve met on the disco” at the top of his voice didn’t exactly improve my temper either.
In the midst of it, when a red mist started suffusing my brain and explosion seemed unavoidable, a lightest cool breeze cooled my skin, and a very calm but clear voice said inside my head: ” It’s only temporary. There’s NOTHING you could do. ACCEPT IT.” I exhaled slowly, closed and opened my eyes a few time and found myself no longer shaking, twitching or boiling, but feeling peaceful, composed and in control once again.
I took a mental step back, retrieved into my secret empty room with the bamboo forest, swaying in front of the glass wall, and, for the rest of the way home watched the green see move, extending to the horizon with the dull gold-red ball of the setting sun, sinking into it, and tried to learn to recognize the fated, to allow the imminent, to accept the inevitable and to, swallowing very hard, force down my humble pie.

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 12-09-2007 07:50
Taming Bi-Headed Monsters.
Due to the lack of weight range and limited amount of serious machinery last night’s biceps session was a classic example of “Beggars Can’t Be Choosers” training style.
Had to use the method of “Strip Sets” and high intensity approach. Which, have to admit, with only three PROPER front of the arm exercises possible, bearing in mind our more then modest facilities, turned out to be very satisfactory work out indeed.

1. Straight Bar Biceps Curls. 4 X 20-15-12-10-8.
2. E-Zet Bar Bicep Curls. 4 X 20 -15-12-10-8.
3. 4 X Standing DB Bicep Curls. 4 X 16-8.
4. Reversed BB Biceps’ Curls. 4 X Max.
5. Narrow Grip Chin-Ups. 2 X Max.

My twin-headed meaty beasts are still aching this morning. Guess it wouldn't be too far away from the truth, if I call this pain (double) "belly-aching".

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 11-09-2007 07:13
So Far, So ... ... FOOD.
Here is 14 weeks eating plan in preparation for my Second (naked) Coming.

Three remaining weeks of September.

6 meals a day, 4 - protein, 2- carbs.
Two cheat meals a week.

Four-and-a-half weeks of October.

6 meals a day, 5 - protein, 1 - carbs.
One cheat meal a week.

Four-and-a-half weeks of November.

6 meals a day, 5 - protein, 1 - carbs.
No cheat meals.

First two weeks of December.

6 meals a day, all - protein. NO CARBS.


Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 09-09-2007 08:51
Dragging An Unwilling Body To The Gym...
Here we are amid another 24-hour period and I have your attention for
five minutes, scattered and chased as it may be. Some of you are at
work squeezing in a personal read between important messages to ease
the day. Others are at home between projects, browsing the web freely
and killing time.

We invent ways to make life at once interesting and effectual; that's
what we do -- most of the time. A ton of work, an ounce of profit, a
slab of business, a slice of play: We're a patchwork of this and that.
We piece together what we want to do with what we must do, the good,
the bad and the ridiculous. And with every day and every deed we do
the best we can do -- most of the time.

Some days we don't want to do a thing: Another day, we say without
gratefulness; another opportunity, we note without enthusiasm. Who
cares? Why bother? We're burned out. The job is boring and the pay
ain't so good. Fun is bothersome and our companions are as dull as
decaf. We watch the latest news to divert our attention (yikes). We
down a can of tuna and a slug of water to indulge the appetite (ugh).
We put on our baggies and head to the gym to lift our mood (groan). We
get caught in traffic, a favorite diversion (honk).

She's goin down and he ain't lookin' so good.

You made the right decision, by hook or by crook, by rack or by stack.
You're going to the mounds of metal and the stacks of steel to chomp
on the iron and chew on the hard stuff. Nothing like a dose of solids
and heavy minerals to lighten the load... Not bad for building muscle
and might either.

Did I mention character?

You see, the gym is a hotspot for action and a cool setting
for focus and thought. Once you step over the threshold and enter its
boundaries, you and the space come alive. The noise is a wall to the
outside world, the effort put forth a sword against life's pressure,
the routine you choose a highway to triumph, the pain you endure a
relief from the blues. The gym straightens the winding road, brightens
the dismal way and adds purpose to a pointless day.

I only say these things because I'm approaching the hour I grab my
stinky gear and drag my less-than-enthusiastic bod to the house of
barbells and dumbbells, cables and racks and other cuddly devises of
body-manipulation. I need all the help I can get.

Sleep did not come like a gentle butterfly in the night. I wrestled
fleeting opponents and awoke from a thin dream, greeting the day with
a fat headache. Good morning, world!

Today I shall slip into a slow, full-body workout. You'll notice I did
not say leap into, hop, skip or jump into this or that program. Also,
bombing and blasting were not the outstanding word choices used to
describe the manner with which I intend to apply myself.

There are times when a slow training session with precise and
deliberate movement is preferred to match existing power and energy,
desirable to accommodate the mood and most effective for muscle
development. Not all our workouts need to be knock-down, drag-out
sessions. Lighten up, Whacko. At least that's what I keep telling
myself.

A slip 'n slow full-body workout means light on the legs with a few
select basic movements to bombard the upper torso without
concentration on any particular area. I did say bombard, didn't I? I
can't resist.

Routines of this sort are best devised in the car on the way to the
gym. Of course, some of you train at home, in which case you need to
drive around the block a few times. Just kiddin'. Foregoing a drive
around the block, seated on the end of the bench press will do. Lots
of thinking is done on the end of the bench press. The point being
these are last-minute designs built on the latest sensitive input.

Zip, zip. Zoom, zoom.

Gone and back in a flash, and there was no traffic either way, north
or south, a sure sign of the ebbing summer and encroaching fall. You'd
never know it by the temperatures, double digits. The workout any
other time would have been unacceptable, but today it was just right.
I climbed upon the spin bike for 15 disagreeable minutes to satisfy
the legs (and my love of aerobics) and completed a couple hundred
high-intensity crunches and leg raises to remind the gut I care, and
to set me in motion.

The investment was worth it. The more I do this stuff, the more I
discover and clarify the be-here-now moment of performance. Muscle
building is about what you do, and no less about how you do it. Total
attention to the muscle action is essential, and form is ideal when it
matches the performer, his mood, needs and ability. If I saw a
youngster doing curls the way I do curls, I would be obliged to
correct him. Worse form no one could display.

No, lad, don't lean this way and that and, please, complete the range
of motion... less thrust, and quicken the pace. You look like a broken
heap.

My body, older and more developed, less supple and more restricted,
compels me to modify my movements to continue my training, extend my
progress. The resulting modifications are deliberate and not
perfunctory, carefully determined and not accidental. Failing to apply
these rules, I risk injury, proceed with constraint, or must eliminate
the unaltered exercise entirely, any of which options limit my growth
and training experience.

I grabbed the thick bar, the Apollon Axle, and set it on the rack of
the thinking-man’s bench press. Where once I loaded the bar, I now
slid on a teensy plate or two. They jingled... cute. I knocked out one
masterful set just to be sociable. No one gasped except me.

Near the open double-wide exit doors, a conduit for breeze, I placed
an Oly bar with sufficient weight across a flat bench for my second
exercise of a superset, the beloved stiff-arm pullover. Let the action
begin.

Hunched at the end of the bench awaiting inspiration, I peered out the
rear doors and over the field and parking lot. Nothing moved.
I did, but with similar stillness and quiet. The thick bar was light, unthinkably light years ago, but now was right for my purpose. With an agreeable close grip (18 inches thumb to thumb -- wider kills the shoulders, closer kills the elbows) I lowered thebar to the sternum (higher and both the elbows and shoulders die)where I rested it for a split-second before returning overhead withfocused effort.

One rep in a million, I attended it as if it was the first and last.
Nothing else mattered. The movement was well-worn, yet as new as a
pair of birthday socks. With accumulated might I guided the bar’s
descent in a rare groove that had not been thus far worn thin by time
and use. Control to maintain the track and speed of descent of each
consecutive rep added to the exertion of muscle without threatening
the body's health. The burn and pump and volume of breathing were
maximized, and exercise fulfillment satisfied and the body spared of
injury.

Let's see: I sufficiently engaged the grip, triceps, front deltoid,
pectorals and some vague, yet substantial torso mass with the press.

The stiff-arm pullover is a powerful relief movement recruiting the
lats, pecs, tris and bis and abs in a sort of quiet rage. Lying on a
flat or slightly declined bench with my feet up for body control, I
hold the bar overhead and focus on its slow and steady stiff-arm
lowering. Stretching and reaching expose the body to insertion and
joint vulnerability. Too much weight, unprepared tissues, quick action
and excessive extension and repetition can ruin a good thing. Careful, Girl!
Besides, the stiff-arm pullover is a feel-good, restorative movement and should be enjoyed.

There's gold in them thar rugged muscles. Back-and-forth supersets,
adding weight each consecutive set for five sets x 6 to 15 reps. Each
rep is a hard-earned nugget and should not be spent foolishly. Dig in.
We’ll blast it another time, count on it.

The last ringer of this contracted workout is the seated lat row. I
rave about this exercise cuz it's a goldmine of attractive, powerful
and utilitarian muscle development. Done with full range of motion and
tight contraction, it involves darn near the whole body: the quads and
hams engage with each complete rep, the lower back is amply applied,
the lats from stem to stern work hard, the biceps and forearm
contribute considerably and the body’s core is heavily involved as
volumes of blood move rapidly far and wide. Start light, go heavy,
traverse the path slowly, note the flowers along the way and squeeze
out the fragrant reps, five sets x 8-12.

In word the workout looks like a day in the shade. Cool Protein Drink, anyone?
In action it’s a generous mix both soothing and exciting to the mind
and body. With enough dynamite it can blast your brains off.

They, who's got the wings, WILL fly...
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 07-09-2007 08:17
Last Man Standing?
Or is it a "last W-O-M-A-N"? Doesn't alter the essence of it, whichever noun might be used. And, if we are talking grammar here, the choice of adjective in this case is highly questionable, for, after the second week of double shifts (AND almost every day training sessions), I could barely sit up straight, leave alone "standing". Constantly on the stand-by, yes, but pretty UN-steady, shaky and ready to drop any time.

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 06-09-2007 21:03
Striking Phenomenon.
Who would've thought, that with the Tube strike journey to work would become such a pleasure? Not your usual nightmarish every-morning struggle, but quite relaxed, bearable, almost stylish civilized traveling. People, who could afford to (and there is a whole lot of them, judging by the empty City street and vacant seats on the bus!) are staying in and work from home.Others, who, like myself simply HAVE to manage somehow to arrive at their chosen points of daily grind, don't suffer unduly because of that. In fact those poor sods (myself included) are enjoying a very rare luxury of being able to commute as it befitted to a human being and, for once, NOT resembling the tinned sardines.
Why, today I was the only living soul in the underground passage from "Monument" to "Bank" station. And one of the huge crowd of 4 (F-O-U-R!!!) other passengers on the DLR. Well, the old wisdom never lies, so there must be the silver lining in EVERY blue uniform jacket of London's Underground Staff.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 05-09-2007 21:50
Test Run.
There is God after all.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 03-09-2007 10:12
In Thunderous Memories Of Eventful Week End.
With all that cloak and dagger
I thought I would loose my swagger.
We’ve managed to keep the lead on,
But nearly busted the cauldron.

Sometimes it’s good to unstitch the seams,
To let out the excessive steam.
The problem, though, was second to none.
And now we’re back to “All For One”.



Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 01-09-2007 10:31
Muscle Mayham.
All you think about over and over and over is the place you go, when every muscle fiber begs for mercy. A place of screaming and...dead silence. Where addictively sweet pain washes over you. Where reality is peeled away from your body, leaving only the expending reflection, spawned from your self-inflicted torture.There's only you and the cold, unforgiving iron. This is your sanctuary. Welcome to MY Muscle Asylum.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 31-08-2007 21:21
Haiku of he Friday Night.
Lights downstairs.
Somebody's home.
Week end's already begun.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 30-08-2007 08:50
ColLATERAL Damage.
It should be obvious to anybody, bothering to take notice, that I am suffering from the acute “Terminator’s Syndrome”. Condition, not thoroughly studied yet, but not that uncommon in Bodybuilding and Action Heroes World. It is sort of a malady, which forces you to return, to come BACK time, after time, after time... To reproduce and to mutate. And each one of your reincarnation becomes more nasty, pitiless, relentless, aggressive and monstrous, then the previous clone. But then, again, they meant to be to undergo the punishment more cruel and the resistance, increasingly fierce. Never mind, that in my role, as a “lean, mean, killing machine” the whole of the assault course is laid with my very own calloused hands, all the booby traps, barriers and obstacles are lovingly designed and engineered w-a-a-a-a-a-a-y in advance and each and every mine field is carefully laid out, fused and wired in my mind well beforehand. Most importantly - all this slef-inflicted pain is welcomed with open arms and on-the-regular-base- sastained agony excitedly anticipated. There is also a matter of “I’ll be BACK” symptom to consider, and not such a small at that. It isn't simply a figure of speech, but a body of action. And if you look at my last night’s training programme below, you might just see why.

1. Chin-ups. 4 X Failure.
2. Seated pulley. 6 X Failure.
3. Lat. Pull down. 6 X Failure.
4. Narrow grip pull down (back to the machine). 5 X Failure.
5. Bent over BB rows. 5 X Failure.
6. Pull over. 4 X 15-20.

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[Запись для всех] 28-08-2007 16:52
“The Time Has Come”…
And even though this phrase is unashamedly pinched (“B-O-R-R-O-W-E-D“ is a better word, wouldn’t you say?) from Mr. Dodgson's immortal classic and I, certainly, not a Walrus (Neither am I a Carpenter, actually. If you don’t believe me, try my flooring or door-framing skills.), but “To talk of many things” is exactly what my slightly un-noble intensions are.
And if you are familiar with great Carrolls’ mockery of Victorian nursery rhymes, those various “things” to lure little fat oysters from the safety of the sea bed and to create a little picnic with them (OUT of them more likely) were consisting of
“… shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax--
Of cabbages--and kings--
And why the sea is boiling hot--
And whether pigs have wings."

Well, I am a little bit more sophisticated, than an upright-walking, four-flippered marine mammal and, hopefully, slightly better educated, than manual worker, making a living out of wooden structures of all sorts.
Without leading you too much astray with the sight of “loaf of bread, pepper, vinegar” or indeed a single oyster shell (By the way, have you ever happened to think, that oysters look EXACTLY, as though somebody sneezed into an ash tray?), I am going to take you into my confidence (the same way those two carnal beasts showed their “kindness” to the poor gullible bivalve mollusks) and state my plans for the next 12 weeks. I might even mention “cabbage” or “wax” (NOT the sealing variety, as painfully unfortunate, as it might be), as part of my very own UN-oystering and opening up.
It’s very simple statement, really, involving lots of preparatory work for my next “shell-dropping” session. The crowd from my VIP least will, no doubt, catch on, what I am talking about. I meant to do it earlier, somewhere at the beginning of September, but life, as it is often the case, interfered, rudely and unexpectedly. Very similar, in fact, to that “Walrus – Carpenter and-oysters” affair. That is why I had to clam up, put a lead on it (call it a sea shell, if you like) and kept my mouth tightly shut about the whole thing.

I am giving myself enough time till my next holiday (commencing 10th of December) and a sort of a birthday present to moi. Would like to get leaner, harder and more defined, than I did last time and to employ a professional photographer to take the pictures. In a studio and with a good light.
However, who knows how it might turn out this time? Might even find things following the grotesque path of Oxford’s Don parody.

"The sun was shining on the sea,
Shining with all his might:
He did his very best to make
The billows smooth and bright--
And this was odd, because it was
The middle of the night.

The moon was shining sulkily,
Because she thought the sun
Had got no business to be there
After the day was done--
"It's very rude of him," she said,
"To come and spoil the fun!"

The sea was wet as wet could be,
The sands were dry as dry.
You could not see a cloud, because
No cloud was in the sky:
No birds were flying overhead--
There were no birds to fly…”


It doesn’t matter, I feel, as long as I will enjoy it and give myself another reason to waffle, as well, as to all of you - something to read about.




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[Запись для всех] 27-08-2007 21:24
If you were a tree...
...what kind would you be?

I would, definitely, be a Weeping Ash. Such realization crept gradually, but inevitably on me after today's family-and-friends barbeque's party we hosted to celebrate this year's the last bank holiday week end, the good weather and tomorrow's return of a good and orderly life of work-work-work and nothing, but work (double bloody shifts again for me, from today and to eternity).
After seeing off all of our guests and finishing tidying up (good thing I've trained shoulders in the morning, for most of the preparatory and entertaining tasks fell upon them) I sat next to the barbeque pit in the suddenly quiet garden, watched the slowly dying flames and thought:"Not unlike myself, actually. For, I am all ashes, where, once, the fire I was."
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[Запись для всех] 22-08-2007 07:59
A Holiday Of Three S's
Sea, Sun and Sex Sand...
Going to Devon for the rest of the week
See you, lot, later...
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[Запись для всех] 20-08-2007 08:57
Of All The Truly Weird...
Some Might Call It Disgusting... Or Fascinating...You Decide
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[Запись для всех] 18-08-2007 08:27
A Question You All Want To Know The Answer To...
I note the condition of my cuticles as I sit before the computer considering a subject for my next entry. One topic has bounced around my head like a speeding pinball. It's as old as myself and about as difficult: What are my training goals these days?

Though I nimbly peck about the keyboard, I am no spring chicken. The same inquiry has forever dictated my training, while at the same time it has forever confounded me. Goals are set, but seldom reached; they are imagined, but infrequently realized; modified and reworded, but always out of grasp. The best I can do is pursue them with all my might. I strain, persist and hope. Behold, I head in the right direction.

I'm off to the sturdy and reliable bastion of steel, another training session to stir up trouble, stoke the fire, fan the cause.

The cause never changes, though it assumes various shapes and sizes.
To this day I secretly want to build muscle and might. I want to be bigger, stronger and faster. I also want a small private island. Hawaji, perhaps? Lean and mean are alluring, slim and trim have an appeal. I settle to fight
the good fight, a cliche as old as the iron ore from which the dumbbell was conceived. Health and fitness move graciously to the forefront as time goes by. There's the eventual struggle for maintenance, which parallels the survival of the fittest, both good causes. Ultimately, I cannot let go of the thing I know.
Who would I be, where would I go, what would I do?

Ah, tell it to your shrink.




While I'm ranting mildly, allow me to cite another puzzle that stumps my mind lately: How hard does one train to build a body over certain years of age before the training becomes excessive, counter-productive and destructive. When are we no longer building the body, but wearing it out?

This problem is best confronted now than later, before it's too late.
Imagine, training to stay young at the cost of living long. Does that sound like a musclehead paradox or what? Pride, ego and vanity rise above reason, commonsense and humanity.

I'm open to research and empirical direction, but I repel being told what to do in matters that are highly individual and still uncharted.
What has been observed in others in the past does not necessarily apply to you and me now. How much do we really know about the mature
musclebuilder of today as they approaches tomorrow? Everything they -- the young and untrained -- would have you believe is certain to mislead us, I suspect.

Apparently, this is an attempt to sound profound in unraveling the mysteries of life, time and aging, when the only thing unraveling around here is me. Another spectacular fiasco.

Note: Dismiss the gabbling. Consider this a lesson in discipline, respect and in your bright future. Hidden meanings lie herein.

I've been stalling, as you've noticed, which I do when I don't have any answers. My goals are tightly bundled with my training limits. I determine to press on with all my passion and achieve all I can at every stage of the game, then, now and later.

I recently heard from a friend who suggested I slow down and spend more time resting and "enjoying" myself. "Relax," was his advice. He's absolutely right. Well, almost. I have introduced that vital quality to my life -- relaxation -- since that first time walking into the gym. Frolicking in the sun, going places, taking it easy eludes me. I'm convinced the day will collapse and night will command the skies for ever. Darkness, cold and gloom. The End.

It's just a feeling, nothing certain. I can count on my hand the times I've walked into the gym and trained at one or two reps short of maximum. I can count on the other hand the times I left the gym without vigorously completing my workout. Arrogance doesn't rule my message, though ignorance might. Just the facts. That doesn't make it
good or bad, right or wrong or crazy or amazing.

Today my training is no different in approach, but pared down to avoid injury, catabolism, central nervous system breakdown, fatigue,extinction and loss of joy. I blast to last, not to explode.




I prefer to crank up the juice, strain and complain; I spend more time in the gym less often. I train slower and lighter, yet with the same intense level of muscle output per set and rep. (This is the true test of a bodybuilder. It's called humility. It's also called depressing.) Focus intensity replaces heavy weight. Exercise performance precedes poundage employed. Appreciation for what you have outshines the craving for what
you don't or can't have.


In other words: If you think the weight you're using is light, drop it on your toe.


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[Запись для всех] 17-08-2007 09:48
TWO A-BREAST.
Feeling rather unproductive wasting valueable holiday time on the Internet, still decided to leave the briefest account of the last night's Chest Training (An addict is, as addict does, unfortunately).

1. Wide Grip Dips. Body Weight. 3 X Max.
2. Hummer Strength Setaed Presses (Upper Chest). 5 X 15-20.
3. Peck-Deck. 6 X 12 - 15.
4. Bench Presses. 4 X 12-15.
5. Smith Inclined Chest Presses. 4 X 12-15.
6. Flat Bench Flyes. 4 X 12-15.
7. Cable Cross-Overs. 4 X 15-20.

Good, solid, hard core work out. The result? Oh! What a LOVELY PAIR!!!
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[Запись для всех] 15-08-2007 13:07
3 D-Mentions of the "F' -Word.
Well, let me quickly put your minds at rest. The F-word, most of you I am sure, have glleefully anticipated, coming from somebody presumed to be so prim and proper is NOT the four-lettered explitive used now days in any-language-speaking country. Mine, a THREE-digit word, seemingly innocent and perfectly legitimate, is a much maligned term used to describe one of the major body tissues or in reference to somebody's extencive BMI. And since in certain (quite B-I-G) circles this expression considered offencive or even insulting, I, not wishing the fame of a dicriminator upon myself, nor having the will to break the accepted boundaries of bloody "political correctness", leave the mystery of the infamous vocable to you to solve. My job will be to guide you through all three sides of UN-mentionable D-mentions AND to make a few H-E-A-F-T-Y jokes along the way.

"D" Number One.

" DEFENCE".

It is anybody's guess (and yours is as good, as mine), how the FAcT, that they are standing out from the crowd afFAT... affect (sorry) some people, and why it makes them so ratty and aggressive. Especially, if the attention drawn to them for all the wrong reasons. Like a "distinguished' body composition, for instance. How they always seem to be ready to pounce or attack. Not in retaliation, but simply well in advance. Just in case. Comes with territory, I would say. The territory that this adipose substance of theirs takes charge upon and will do anything (act silly and hostile, for example) to protect the conquered property. Oversized personalities usually require delicate handling. And if you are not a tactful individual or a diplomatic one, do not step on an unfamiliar terrin or try to approach any of the H-E-A-V-Y subjects. You might very quickly find yourself flattened and squashed by your opponent's W-E-I-G-H-T-Y opinion.

"D" Number Two.

"DENIAL".

What exactly do I mean, you might ask. Let me give it you straight from the pages of "Online Etimology Dictionary".
" Psychology. An unconscious defense mechanism characterized by refusal to acknowledge painful realities, thoughts, or feelings." If you spend the A-M-P-L-E time of your life in such a perennial state, where P-L-E-N-T-I-F-U-L C-H-U-N-K-S of your time are dedicated to putting as G-A-R-G-A-N-T-U-A-N distance between your T-R-U-N-K and the truth as possible, then no wonder the gaping void will feel the G-R-E-A-T need to be filled with something else instead. Nature does not tolerate emptiness, so the B-E-L-L-Y of it is obligingly stuffed with F-O-O-D . At any time. Day or night.

"D" Number Three.

"DELUSION".

It stems from procrustinating in the state of negation and from the neccesity to constantly P-L-U-M-P up the cusions under one's behind and to S-O-F-T-E-N the blows one is delt by outside world. Stems from the "D" Number Two, if you didn't get my M-E-A-T-Y hint.
Having lost a battle with the F-L-E-S-H, very often trap one in a life of a fixed false belief that is resistant to reason or confrontation with actual fact. A fact, that the problem does exist , that it's clear and present, or, rather, R-O-T-U-N-D, S-O-L-I-D and S-T-O-U-T. No use to hide from the evidence, that, unless very shortly addressed to, will be S-W-O-L-L-E-N grossly out of all proportions and remain, distirbingly, in full view, like an O-B-E-S-E beached W-H-A-L-E.
To abstinate from a dilemma, to placate the nagging inner voice, to drawn one's sorrows what is there left to do, but turn to F-O-O-D. That unfailurable provider of instant comfort and universal source of unconditional love. It does not judge or patronise, berate or demand, ask for actions or impose responsibilities. It simply offer easily achievable contentment and create an illusion of ideal, happy world to those, who think the real one severely lacks pity and compassion towards them. The small matter of desrving both very rarely seem to enter into the equation.


Now, I've done my B-E-E-F-Y best to enlighten you on our tour through T-H-I-C-K and thin (mostly the former) of the B-R-O-A-D (statu-ed) folks modus-operandi. Also, correct me, if I am wrong, but the promise given at the very beginning of this article (to keep civil tongue in my head and avoid forbidden and untouchable F-word) is faithF-U-L-L-y F-U-L-L-filled. I stayed well within circumference of our subject, never once stepping over the line. And if you still feel I did, in any shape, form, or way, feel free to express your disagreement with any amount of F-words all Three Dimentions of your vocabulary would permit.
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[Запись для всех] 13-08-2007 12:40
A Spot of Shopping.
WARNING!
People with a particula weakness for bargain hunting, please, avert your eyes. I don't want anyone to have a nervous break down of the envious nature. For, the whole thing (boots and knickers) was 4 pounds and fifty pens (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

Love, l-o-v-e, and absolutely L-O-V-E sales.

[IMG][/IMG]

[IMG][/IMG]

And, due to the popular demand (DireXtor + Lady Moscow) - my new hair do.

[IMG][/IMG]

[IMG][/IMG]
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[Запись для всех] 13-08-2007 08:17
A Happy Little Tune.
"H-O-L-I-D-A-Y!!!... ..."

What else can I say?
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[Запись для всех] 12-08-2007 09:28
Must Be Talking To an Angel...
This is, actually, a letter of apologies to my Guardian Angel. Forgive me, my Divine Friend, but today I trespassed against you. I cut my hair first thing on Sunday morning, when it's a common knowledge, that your locks should be left well alone on the second day of the week end. For, it cuts off and brushes away all the help from the sky.
But, I think, my Winged Chaperon wouldn't mind too much. If I were in his ...erm... halo, I'd just as soon protected someone, who looks like a human being, rather, then something very closely resembling a shaggy mongrel of an uncertain pedigree.
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[Запись для всех] 10-08-2007 08:56
Nothing Changes... Nothing Remains The Same...
We park across the road from the gym and can hear the clanking of plates echoing down the deserted warehouse estate.
Come to think of it, I hear the clanking of plates in my dreams, could probably hear them under anesthesia and under water.

Some say it's an occupational hazard, like repetitive-use syndrome, battle fatigue or post-traumatic stress. I listen to the irregular, high-pitched concussions even when I don't hear them. They are my built-in metronome, my internal clock, my heartbeat, my rhythm
and rhyme, my song.


Everything looks cool; back doors are wide open, fans are blowing, our
bench is free and a few friendly faces dot the gym floor. A slug of
water -- make sure it's water and not DMSO -- and we are on our way.

It's finally a proper sunny summer in England and anybody with half
a brain is outdoors enjoying the good life: beach, hiking, biking,
boating and picnicking. How would I know, you ask, as I don't know
anybody with have half a brain? Ha. Very cute, you, smarta****ss!
Yesterday was a day of trial and error. Actually, every day is a day of
trail and error, but this one is specific: some low input squats and
deadlifts to test the body's mechanics, range of motion, endurance and
strength and lack thereof. (It’s my period, and I am lethargic and sluggish, to say the least.)

Good grief! Whose idea was this?

I am strong and courageous, but I'm not overly inspired. I am attentive and dedicated, but I'm not exactly happy. These will be done, but I'm not about to set any records. To exercise and determine my abilities, that is my purpose.

Yes, I shall start with the usual blend of crunches, leg raises and rope tucks to warm up, shape up and tighten up my midsection (dream
on). These prepare me mentally and physically for the meat of the
workout ahead. As I proceed, I gauge my input and adjust it appropriately to assure matter-of-factness is not the attitude with
which I apply myself. Focus achieved; effort and finesse are dialed
in.

At the start, midway and in completion, it's clear my level of input
is seriously compromised. Fatigue is immediate and not amenable to
friendly persuasion. It must be the long week and previous consuming
workouts, the hot weather, sleep limitations and the possible loss of
precious bodyweight. Rats! Time for plan B.

Plan B is whatever I feel like doing that can be done without
overdoing it, exclusive of packing up and going home. When the weights
seem nailed to the floor and the burn feels more like a sting, the pump's in the dumps and I know a quick exit is off-limits, I return to
my gym bag, a headquarters of sorts, and think.

Another slug of water, I give myself 30 seconds... tops. Reviewing
previous workouts, accessing my physical responses and considering my
desires and needs, I make my conclusions. Intuition surfaces.

Biceps and triceps it is, with whatever stray muscles I can drag along
in the act -- a spot of shoulders, a chunk of chest and a bit of back.
Arms will dominate and there'll be no leg work today.

I feel better knowing dead lifts and squats are not in my immediate
future. Another time they will be appropriate; they will rule, lead
the way, take me where I must go. Not today. The decision is run
through my trusty ICM (internal copout meter) and the readings are
just fine: no alarms, no doubts, no guilt, no fear, no way, Jose.

I can blast an arm workout when the reserves are low -- mental,
physical, emotional and motivational. And a good arm workout can be
established within a few light sets of attentive warm-ups (i.e.
standing barbell curls supersetted with dips -- a quickie workout favorite when in the pinch, incidentally, as the moves are
easy to set up, familiar, comfortable, fun and provide a pump, an
agreeable burn, a slow rise in heart rate, body warmth and breathing,
offering the first delicious slurps of progress, direction and
investment).

I'm beginning to cook and a mini blast is before me.

I learn the hard way and sometimes I don't learn at all. It's happened
before: A good arm-workout is best when it is not overdone.

Not today. Not me. This ol’ lady is too clever for that old mistake.
I'll savor a short, sweet and irresistible arm blast, and (I'm persistent) revisit plan A, squats and dead lifts, with appropriate revisions. I'll only dip into the two burly exercises to remind my body of their action and inspect the effects of their load. This weightlifting stuff can be very intimate.

Arms are done, bis and tris complete, my wings hang loosely by my
sides. Four basic movements -- two biceps and two triceps, supersetted,

The squat rack eventually bears the same weight for the same
combination and by workout's end I'm cooked medium rare, just how I
like it.

See? You can take your workout and reform it according to your needs
and desires, if they're legit, and providing your changes are wise and
applied with hard work, good form, acute focus and smart purpose. It's
called moving on and going forward, thinking, feeling and making
sense. You can do it, if you know what you're doing. Have courage and
faith.

Cup of a coffe and a protein bar, some minor contemplation at our
rendezvous point and we are outta here. I circle the huge lorry tires (training equipment for “Strongest Man” competition) on the way to our car and listen to the fading clang of metal. The clamor fades but never grows still.

May we rest in peace when it does.


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[Запись для всех] 08-08-2007 10:24
FAT'S THE LIFE?
Living a chaste life could sometimes lead you into a business of quite un-charitable thinking. NOT at all in a pleasant, sunny, pink-and-fluffy, “oh-I-am-so-virtuous-life-is-getting-better-every-day way”. Astonishing to witness, astounding to behold. Being a BioRobot makes for a lonely life. Let us move on.
Despite the increase in cautionary chatter about obesity and its wreckage of humanity, the preventable disease grows like stink on a steamy rubbish lorry. Instead of responding intelligently to the grim forecast, the masses continue to display ignorance, inaction and irresponsibility. Like muddy floozy waters of the River Thames, excuses, rationales and pro-fat arguments are on the rise. And we’re cashing in, as well. Fat-people businesses are booming (fashions, clothiers, weight management, specialized counseling) and we now have a fat-people reality show. We’re not fixing the problem, we are accommodating it. Fat begets fat, fatsos beget fatsos.
Fat is not in, but there’s a large movement to make it fit. Fat is not where it’s at, but it’s getting there. Fat is fat. Oversized clothes are becoming an oversized boom, big bellies are bloating insurance costs, reality shows exploit the bulging blunder and excess eating solutions are toothless; the rich get richer, the poor get poorer and the fat get fatter. We’re goin’ down (couldn’t help but laugh as I wrote this... not a joke... just sounds funny... we’re goin’ down). UP and OUT, actually, if you GOT the joke.
Do you hear the clock ticking? When will the alarm go off? Will we wake up or just roll over? Is it too late?
Fat gone wild is disappointing and exposes mankind’s weakness in all its outrageous forms: physical incapacity, laziness, ineffectiveness, carelessness, recklessness, procrastination, stupidity, conformity, lack of discipline, gluttony, short-sightedness, self-contempt and disrespect.
Negativity on my part? No, not, nope, never, none! Nada and nay! I underscore the catastrophe in hopes to halt and reverse the cross-eyed direction in one or more lives, as our lean, mean team grows in number, muscle and might.
Obesity is a public health crisis. If it continues to grow at today’s pace, 75 percent of adults will be overweight in seven more years.
We don’t have time to exercise. We can’t eat properly. We dare not deprive ourselves. We refuse to sacrifice, though we abundantly deny. We just don’t care enough.
We need a revival in personal responsibility. We need an antidote to apathy. We need an education in common sense. We need to practice self-respect. We need to reevaluate our values. We need to wake up, exercise and eat right. That doesn’t mean we can’t laugh, have fun and enjoy each other. Indeed, the former constructive proposals enable and ensure the latter cheery possibilities.
Excuse me while I have a shot of protein drink and head to the gym. Join me? “Celebreties Fit Club” can wait. The whole world can wait.
Very interesting fact to emphasize my point. Beyond establishing the facts and figures of obesity in society’s young and old (75% obesity by 2015), a report from one respectable university deduced that when an overweight man, woman or child associated consistently with other overweight persons, they tended to further their oversized condition. Misery loves company.
Furthermore, it was concluded when a person of normal weight regularly accompanied an overweight person, the normal-weight companion tended to gain weight. Once it was determined by the subordinate subject that some degree of fatness was okay, gaining weight became dominant. If it’s okay for you, it’s okay for me.
This phenomenon was observed in family settings, at the workplace and in social situations. It was also noted that overweight people tended to hang out with other overweight people. Birds of a feather...
The same trend was seen among thin (not skinny) people. Thin attracts thin and sets the trend. Thin rules.
Fat needs to be thinned out by education and continuing to expose the bare naked truth of the overweight condition. Obesity delivers a host of debilitating diseases and considered by the researchers as more dangerous and insidious than smoking.
The study’s conclusions look more like common sense than critical scientific breakthroughs to me. We, BioRobots, Fitness Freaks and Health Nuts could pump the iron for an afternoon and offer a similar report with fewer words and more insight and at a cost of a membership to a good neighborhood gym... if we could find one.
Anyone spot a place to land, tip your wings and we’ll call it a day. Sun’s going down and we need to train hard, eat right and rest.

Chins (but not double or triple) and dips (but not humous or sour cream and chives)...

I’ll be seeing ya!


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[Запись для всех] 07-08-2007 07:57
Unashamedly Hinder Thoughts.


This entry meant to be written in Russian and publicized on our newly created “Biorobot’s Blog.” But, since it looks like the site will take a while to take off, and the idea of this article already hutched, developed, and firmly established itself in my mind, I figured, it would make sense to save and to air it, even though in “enemy’s tongue.”

There is nothing shameful, by the way, in my “hinder”, or “behind” or “backward” thoughts, for, the subject I am going to apply myself to, is nothing short of being quite modest and even somewhat innocent. I am going to talk about our HINDER legs (Just a joke. Humans do not have that. The only legs we have are just that – The Legs.), or the back of our thighs – muscles known, as hamstrings; and about the way you could sometimes train them.
There is, amongst other very useful bodybuilding techniques and principles, a widely acknowledged and employed method of Multi Sets. You might’ve heard it referred to, as a Giant Set Training. It’s very often used to push one off the plateau, when the usual, Straight Set work outs failed to produce the results anymore. The pure shock of such weight and movement volume will make muscles to start responding and grow again. Or, you could try it to give the training more intensity AND variety. It also works well, if you’re pressed for time, as it allows you to squeeze quite large chunk of work into a relatively short time span.
The way you plan this kind of training, the muscle groups you put together for your Multi Set Work Out, is entirely up to you. It could be organized Circuit Class Style, where you train the whole body, top to bottom, or other way round. The Agonist Principle normally produce the good results too. This is when muscles of choice “help” each other with the workload they are piled with: Back and Biceps; Chest and Triceps; Triceps and Deltoids; Hamstrings and Claves, etc.
I, however, designed my training session on a reverse of the above – on the Antagonist Principle, grouping together Back and Front of the Thigh. Hamstrings and Quads. Two muscles, originated from the hip, crossing the same joint, and whose action opposed by one another. One is bending the knee, the other is extending it. Meat and Potatoes of the leg.

1. Leg Extensions. 20-25 reps.
2. Backward Lunges. 15-20 for each leg.
3. Lying Leg Curls. 15-20reps.
4. Stiff Legged Dead Lifts. 15-20.
5. DB Step-Ups. 15-20 on each leg.

Try not to use too much time on breaks in between your Giant Sets, and, if you ever brave enough to go through with this work out, squash any HINDER THOUGHTS you will, unavoidably, have about me.


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[Запись для всех] 06-08-2007 07:54
A Happy(ish) Monday Thought.
"Only one week to go till my holiday."

As the happy thoughts go, it does not amount to too much, probably, but it will keep me going for the rest of another horrible week.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 03-08-2007 11:40
Between Me and the Walls
It's a beautiful mid-summer morning and yet another workout looms
before me. Once again I ask myself, "What shall I do today and how
will it go?"

We all have these little conversations with ourselves periodically,
perhaps regularly. It's okay. They can be automatic acknowledgements
of the deed ahead: casual reminders, dutiful considerations,
meaningful preparations, and, occasionally, thorns in our sides. Some
days we can't wait till we enter the gym and embrace the weights. Some
days we ignore the immovable piles, wish we could, or are sorry we
did.

Every workout is a step forward, a test, a blessing, a curse, an
investment and a liability; a game, a study and a statement. We win,
we lose, we learn and grow. Training is no less important than
breathing in or breathing out. Each is vital. Each is precious.
Collectively they keep us alive.

I'm just saying... to myself... "What should I do today... the same
ole' same ole', or add a little twist, or do an entire 180? Blast it
or stay cool? Whatever, I want to make sure I'm fueled and focused and
unhurried. The workout will fall in place; it will happen, it will
come together, it will be done, it must be done.

"Can't say I'm setting the gym on fire lately, but I am there and I am
doing my best. Consistency, that's the ticket. Press on, no matter
what; aches and pains, splinters and blisters, casts and splints,
bruises and contusions.

"Gotta maintain a degree of personal excitement, continue the positive
input, call on personal encouragement, though each is lacking in
mouth-watering inspiration.

"Stay strong. Dig deep. Blast it. Merely going through the motions is
unacceptable... might as well stay home. A workout without a pinch of
dynamite makes no impression, no bam, no bang, no boom... a dud, a
poof. I hate poofy workouts.

"I am weary, now that I think about it. Then don't think about it,
You'll stay home, eat something dumb, watch the tube, take a
nap and you'll feel guilty, stressed and fat and won't be able to
sleep tonight. Not good.

"The gym will get you going... the first coupla sets. Ease into it,
what's the rush. Some midsection, some calves and the juices will
start to flow. Today is shoulder and back day, but I feel like a slug.
Maybe I'll do some dumbbell presses instead of Smith presses and
press-behind-necks... and some one-arm lateral raises. A sufficient
change to suit my mood without upsetting my training order."

I do like order, for someone who claims (before anyone who'll listen)to be an instinctive trainer, an iron rebel, a spontaneous improviser
and a daring maverick. Not to forget a rather dashing lady , cool and
devilish.

Never fails! The workouts that have all the prickly allusions of
failure turn out to be the all-time winners, the unparalleled
successes, the stunning tributes. I manage to dig a hole for myself
and crawl in, expecting only darkness and desperation. And then,
powered by self-induced pressure on all sides, I erupt like an
explosion in slow motion. Guttural sounds, upending steel and blazing
bodyparts, I emerge a winner, the sum total of maximum hypertrophy,
an unwillingness to submit AND two scoops of protein powder.


Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 02-08-2007 17:23
You Like?...
'cos I, most certainly do.

..."Music is the wine
Which fills the cup
Of silence... ..."

Robert Fripp. "King Crimson."
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 01-08-2007 09:50
What lies beneath.
There are some people in life that are so strange you hardly believe they could exist.
And you never know, what’s hidden under the thin veneer of visible physical shell of the person; and what kind of troubled waters might break at any time through the fragile glass of middle-class upbringing, cut-glass accent and seemingly straight forward bearing.
I always marvel at how deceptive appearances could be and learnt to never take ANY glitzy, glammed up fake front at it's face value.
It is true, what they say, that a Tart could have a Heart of Gold. And what you take for a heap of precious metal from afar, close up might turn up, quite simply, into a pile of sh***t.



Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 30-07-2007 12:03
Eleventh Commandment.
Today I am doing my utmost best to obey DireXtor’s most recent, and infinitely wise, postulate.
“While at work – WORK!!!”



Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 29-07-2007 14:41
A Plate of Leg O’Mutton… …
... ... Dressed as a Lamb.


And so I was. Dressed absolutely inappropriately for somebody of my age and outragesly loud and bright for anybody half that number. Here, I let YOU be my fashion judge. Emerald-green T-shirt with mustard-yellow picture of some model’s face and words “Original” underneath. Shiny tight black leggings. Voluminous lilac leg warmers, VERY expensive, finely-knit jersey, from “Sweaty Betty”. Pale-pink ‘Adidas’ trainers. Black-an-red “York” lifting gloves. I even let you in on a secret. My underwear, if shown, could’ve blinded and put to shame a couple of parakeets. For, on my top half, I had a fuchsia-coloured bra with a coquettish little scarlet bow in the middle. And my bottom today was clad in a mere wisp of a fabric, you could hardly call knickers – tiny, almost transparent triangle, and covered in silvery-rose apple blossom pattern.
Why am I writing about all this? Because today’s work out was hardest one out of them all. It was The LEGS Day. And after a Helluva week I’ve just had, any kind of motivation would do, and anything, even remotely resembling fun, would be welcome. I took this leaf out of the Shawn Ray’s book, who, in his hey days, whenever he felt demotivated, fatigued or simply tired, used to put on a pair of new leggings (always very brightly coloured); or trained in a different gym every day.
The training, surprisingly enough, went on without a hitch. It was short (but NOT sweet) and extremely heavy. Don’t want to boast about my “upper hand” (so to speak) where the leg exercises are concerned, but feel it deserved mentioning, even in passing, that I went to 300kg on the leg press machine. For 8 reps, believe it, or not!!!
Other than that, nothing exciting happened, and the session run as follow.
1. Leg Curls. 6 X 8-20.
2. Leg Presses. 6 X 8-20.
3. Squats. 5X 15-12.
4. Roman Chair Squats + One-Legged Squats
(Supersetted). 3 X Max.

You know what? Looking back at this programme and recalling the poundage, the pain and the struggle, I’ve decided to change my mind about being either Mutton or Lamb. I am nether. With my sweet and deceptively innocent appearance and cunning predatory nature, I am far better suited to being a Wolf in a Sheep Clothing.




Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 28-07-2007 18:52
МА-ША!!! It's All YOUR Fault!!!
Here's to Your Good Health!!!

Keeping Up Appearances.

[IMG][/IMG]

The Sad Truth.

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Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 28-07-2007 08:06
BIRTHDAY MANTRA.
To YouAllKnowWho.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Miss DireXtor!!!


I open my Arms
With the Heart
On the palm of my
Hand.

I close my Eyes,
Bringing Past
And the Present
Together,
My friend.

I cover my Mind,
Casting Reason
And Logic
Aside.

I bare my Soul,
Letting Feelings
And Memories rise
To the Light.

You are
Far Away.
But today I could sense
You are Wistful and
Blue.

The Future is hazy,
You search in the Dark,
Stumbling blindly,
Without a Clue.

Embark on the
Journey…
One Step at a time,
Even Slowly,
Makes it
A Mile.

A Penny to Penny
Will turn,
Bit by Bit ( Would You trust me on that?),
To a Pile.

Be ruthless with
Fears.
Snap Doubts,
Like twigs,
In a half.


Suspension is stiffling.
Break Free.
Swim with Joy
In the river of Life.

And of our LOVE.



Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 27-07-2007 07:49
ZEN Fiday.
A gym member sends me an email and asks, "What do you do after one of those
days of depression when you realize you can’t grow at the same rate, as before, and train as hard, as you once did?”

I hadn't noticed till he mentioned it, but here is my obliging answer in the best traditions of Zen:

“ Greetings, Cheerful One.

It is good to have choices when confronted with the revolting truth.

I sit trembling on the edge of an abyss and stare into the darkness.
Moaning doesn't do it for me anymore.

Or I crawl into bed and pull the covers over my head. Getting smashed
is no longer an option.

Or I have a doughnut. Hotdogs work.

Or I go to the mall and watch people shop, eat and grow large.

Or I go to McEatAllYouCould and watch people sit, eat and grow large.

Or I make a few minor adjustments and thank God for what I have.

At just the right moment, I go to the gym and play hard. I'm
practiced.


P.S.

I train the same as I did when I was in the throes of competition,
having only reduced the mass of my workouts to match my needs. Once the muscle is established and the years go by, massive work is not necessary, heavy weight is not possible and too much of either is damaging to the body, mind and soul.

My menu is also the same, yet less volume is necessary to satisfy the
system. I've improved the intake of choice nutrients -- EFAs, antioxidants, C, E, D and such -- as years of understanding and
knowledge have grown. The diet is dialed in daily. Seldom do I stray.

Of course, the selection of exercises has been reduced or modified due
to accumulated injury or overload. But the style and motivations are
similar, if not the identical. I superset, apply the basics, push to
respectable levels, pursue muscle and might in all forms, bow to real
limitations, focus with all my power and improvise, as if composing a
love song.

I think "muscular and ripped" and hope for the best. This opens the front
door to disappointment and injury, but also prevents me from falling
off the roof and onto the ground. Now you know everything I know."

Duh! To be continued.

As the road before me unfolds and I note its relative, albeit temporary, smoothness, I sit back and enjoy the ride. I'll put in the miles, separating myself from the jolting rough spots and length of detours, and refresh my desire for the ongoing journey. The lessons learned (they are unending) have been tough yet worthy, and are priceless references for the future -- yours and mine, young and old.

- Keep forced layoffs to a minimum is my first thought.
Blast it without exploding is my second.

Others, less startling, fall in place:

- Common sense develops with every set practiced, each rep observed.

- When you're attentive and aware, not a moment or movement in the gym is wasted.

- Overtraining occurs when ignorance or punishment replace common sense and sound judgment.

- Injury occurs when ego replaces caution and safety. Injury occurs when you least expect it. Stop. Look. Listen. Go.

- Nothing good occurs when daydreaming or idle conversations replace purpose and concentration.

- Heavy weights, love them as we might, are not as effectual as lesser weights with refined form, proper muscle engagement and maximum muscle exertion. Ripley.

- Training consistently with moderate weights surpasses occasional workouts with heavy weights.

- Fear evaporates when action is applied, like rain clouds before the sun.

- One step forward exceeds two, three and four steps back.

- Depression compounded by training layoffs. Withdraw with care.

- Gotta treat these bodies more like our dear and beloved friends and less like stubborn mules.

- Growing up is hard to do. We won't talk about growing old.


...Behold. Time passes. Me? The hot metal, having moved, grows cold. I glide to the shady cool room with the view of a swaying bamboo forest and seek comfort.

Paradise...


Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 25-07-2007 18:03
NOSH. But Not POSH.
Food today (as in SO FAR).

1. 100g of Grilled Salmon @ half four in the morning.
2. 100g of Scrambled Eggs @ 8:30 am.
3. Two bananas @ 11am.
4. 1:30pm. 100g of Cottage Cheese with assorted Grilled Vegetables.
5. 75g of Tuna Flakes in water with Asparagus Spears @3:30 pm.

Depressingly enough I seem to have mislaid my appetite somewhere. Can’t bear a single thought of another mouthful of food. And it’s me we are talking about here. The person who rates the regular and clean eating almost higher, than anything else in the world. For, I am naturally greedy and food and everything it’s represents is important part of my life. To a point, of course. I wouldn’t want to go to the “place of no return” and start following the sad example of certain sybarites and hedonists with their oh, so seductive “We live to eat” life style.
There is still enough time till tonight’s work out and I do need one more meal being forced down my throat to be able to train properly. There’s no choice I’m afraid but to go and check what kind of gourmet deice “Mirror” canteen has on offer. As long as it’s not an ox tale (or, Heavens forbid, offal, for there ARE limits, you know) I’ll be fed(hopefully) and not in danger of getting stuck under the bar, having a fainting fit or a black out.
Food, here I come (M-m-m-m-m-m-m… Cottage Cheese… A-G-A-I-N.)

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 24-07-2007 22:34
What's the Story, Morning Glory?
The story is - I am just trying to follow in the footsteps of certain "Harbour" maniacs (the word used lightheartedly and no offense intended), who's got enough discipline and sense of humour to put their 'Expression of the Day' pictures of themselves into their diary EVERY morning.
Here is MY "Expression of the Day". What it means - it's up to you to decide. I also trust your imagination to invent the best header for those pictures of my behind.
So far I, myself, have come up with two. Both - very famous quotations.

1. "The Sun, Really, Does Shine ... ..." (...Out of my ass) .

2. " Fat Bottomed Girl... ..." (...You make the whole world go round).


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Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 24-07-2007 22:10
The Lady, Who (Lunches) LUNGES.
And the one, who does it alone. No posh friends for me in the exclusive settings of a cosy restaurant. Dimly lit, steel clanking back ground and gritty reality of a hard-core gym.
The gourmet cuisine on the exquisite china dishes was not on the menu either. Only HAM (or HAMS, as Hamstring are better known in the sleng of bodybuilding world) with the plates of pure iron, ranging from ten to twenty five kilos. Can’t imagine any water being happy to serve me, however big the tips might’ve been.

Ala carte HAMS work out.

STARTER:

Lying Leg Curls. 4X 15-20.

MAIN COURSE:

Four Giant Sets of:
1. Stiff-legged DB Dead Lifts. 15-20reps.
2. Repeater Lunges. 25reps for each leg.
3. Bench DB Step Ups. 16 reps for each leg.

DESSERT.

45 mins. of Cardio on the X-trainer.

Funny thing is: I used to dream and rave about having skinny legs. Today, if you call me ‘THUNDER THIGHS”, I’ll take it, as a compliment.

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 24-07-2007 09:21
You Are Only As Strong,...
As Your Weakest Link.

At the moment mine is the calves. They've got lots of catching up to do with the rest of me. Hence, last night's, v-e-r-y thorough, Calve's Training.

1. Standing Calves' Raises. 6 X 12-15.
2. Seated Calves Raises. 5 X 12-15.
3. Seated Toe Presses. 4 X 12-15.
Supersetted with
4. Standing, One-Legged Calves' Raises. 4 X Max.

We were, perhaps a little bit too thorough. For, today I have to pay tribute to two mean and savage Gods by the names of Gastronimeus and Soleus: each step's resulting in the squeaky little prayer of "Holly Cows!!!"

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 23-07-2007 14:07
Lady in da Business.
As it happened, I’ve got promoted over the week end, so first thing first, and don’t think if have you accidentally popped in to say “Hello!” you could get away with it.
Congratulations ( post cards, e-mails, champagne,flowers, chocolates, etc.) are in order and very welcome indeed. Secondly, you are now looking at the diary of the new Boss of the Best North London Cleaning Agency (Actually, I am just a cover manager, for two weeks, instead of our friend Vendetta, who, at this very moment, is relaxing her happy self on the sea side of the sunny Lithuania.) Thirdly, since I am a VERY IMPORTANT PERSON now and EXTREMELY posh, only speak to me, when spoken to, and even then, unless you are holding a Degree in The Yellow Duster Twirling, or could produce a Certificate of “Fairy” Washing Up Liquid Operator, or are Fully Qualified Hoover Manual Labourer, I am not really interested.

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 22-07-2007 10:51
TO YOU.
You are outside, fixing one of our cars, getting it ready for tomorrow’s test. This is where you are at you happiest: under the filthy smelly metal dragon, in our yet-to-be-garage. Or, in the gym, grappling with a shiny, iron beast, polished by the countless number of hands, straggling with it before you. This is where we met; this is where (funny enough) we still keep meeting. You – arriving in style, carried by yet another steel creature, “Nissan” ZX300. I – rushing in, breathless and late (“Bloody public transport!!!”), straight after work, having made it all the way from the City down to the industrial district in Enfield. And when I run up the steep ladder of the “Abbey Steel Works” warehouse and enter the smelly, noisy, vibrating from the impossible amount of decibels, crowded area, known, as “Muscle Limit GYM”, first, without seeing you, I feel lonely and lost. As though I am all by myself in this world. As though I don’t belong. But once the bright, canary yellow training T-shirt of yours moves into my field of vision, everything falls into its’ right place and the World is ours, one more time and forever.
My heart still skip a bit at the sound of your voice (deep, velvety and sexy) and the notion, that you are mine still astonishes me after all this years (fourteen this summer, if we are to be exact). We have grown older (AND wiser, I hope). We’ve been through a lot together: thick and thin, sickness and health, war and peace. We do argue sometimes, other times we might even fight. There are moments in the course of our every day life, when we annoy and irritate the Hell out of each other. Well, no one is a saint, and show me a couple, which never had a good old fashion family “show down” or haven’t gone through a rough patch in their entire time of co-habitaion, and I’ll be the first to take my hat off for them.
You are my NEO. My ONE. I've never tried to change you into something you are simply not, or forced you into a mould which wouldn't fit you. I got used to your funny little ways (Stubbornes and pig-headidness, posessivness and immaturity. You ARE a man, after all. One can't expect too much from your species.) And you've learnt to accept the fact, that I always give,as good, as I get. Despite all this I haven't had a single moment of regret throughout all our team-time. And wouldn't have it any other way.
I am writing all this sitting in my customary place at the kitchen table, rattling the computer’s key board (This is where I am the happiest, by the way, here in my kitchen and in the gym with you, of course.) and waiting for you to come and say “Ready? Back today.” Meaning, that it’s time to go to the gym and “Back’ is the muscle on the training agenda.
I wouldn’t want you to read all this, for, as good as I am with expressing myself in writing, I am NEVER openly affectionate or sentimental. But you do know that your birthday is one of the most important days of my life and my feelings for you will remain true “as long, as we both shall live.”

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DARLING.

PS.

What shall I plan for such a big day?
The ideas so far:
1. Champagne and oysters. Rejected firsthandedly, as wa-a-a-a-a-y too decadent for us, simple folks.
2. Sex, Drugs and Rock-n-Roll. Dismissed on the ground of unsuitability for two healthy nuts, and as clashing with our "Fitness Freak" life-style.

Seems, like it's going to be the usual.

Option Number Three.

Gym and Barbeque. (Oh, and to commemorate such an event and still render it a tad of celebratory spirit and a shade of noughtiness, I bought two boxes of our favourite . "TESCO"s "Yogurt flavoured, fruit of the forest" ice cream!!!)



To Alex. Unchained melody
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 20-07-2007 12:12
Muscle: Lean and Healthy, Functional and Fun...
It's the middle of July, mid-summer at my dot on the earth and the sun
is pouring down. How sweet it is. Throughout the winter I lament
pitifully, protesting the cold and dull days. What a sap. From this
day forth I shall rise above my self-centered and monotone behavior. I shall embrace whatever weather conditions confront me and celebrate
life's cornucopia of offerings, the good times, the bad times and the
times of mystery and surprise.

Our days on this wonderful planet are brief and few, savor every
moment.

What's that? You see clouds forming on the eastern horizon and
they're heading this way? Gasp! But I was going to bask in the sun on
the deck, heal my throbbing body pounded by the iron, and deepen my
tan. Can you stop the dreaded onslaught? No. Of course not. What if I
hop in my trusty old banger and head westward away from the approaching shadows? NO.

I'll go to the gym instead and work off the stress of the pending
gloom. Ah, Life and its cruel hand, its fickle finger of fate. An
afternoon of squats and deadlifts is before me. How sweet it is.

Before I grab my gym bag and be on my merry way, a word about the
latest principles in developing lean and healthy, functional and
attractive muscle. Now there's a smart and tidy combination of
incentives for exercising. Keep them in mind as you approach and
engage in every set, every pumping rep of your workout. Allow the mind to wander, and purpose, like fuel in an uncapped gas tank, evaporates into thin air. Talk about waste and lost energy!

Sometimes we get caught up in one or two aspects of our training and
forget (or never discover) the multiple reasons we lug our bodies to
the gym, barbell to barbell and rack to rack. Consider them all
regularly to charge your training, powerize your mind and give flight
to your heart and soul.

Training without a well-directed and positive mind is like training
without barbells and dumbbells. Training without enthusiasm is like
training without cables, benches and racks. You don't have to love the dedicated work before you, but you've gotta want it and need it;
you've gotta believe it and trust it.

You're building muscle and trust at once. Side-by-side, well-being
and confidence are under construction. Function and capability unfold
as you stand by your convictions and push that iron. The person you
wish to be is developing and shows promise to live a long and
productive life. Lift that steel.

Today's... um... cutting edge lifters begin their iron quest seeking
muscle and might and soon find the way too narrow, rugged and steep.
They want lean muscle at once. Lifting tonnage is awesome, but
simultaneously developing trim muscle is an intrusion when hoisting
bars bent with weight. Hefty bodyweight is needed.

And health and wellbeing are too often overlooked or compromised in
the process of gaining muscle and might: overloaded muscle, injured
joints, large waists, excess bulk and compromised cardio-respiratory
condition.

Then we have the portly beginner trainees, whose mass, once
conditioned and engaged, enables them to lift substantial weight,
which they do because they can. "Forget lean-muscle, diet and
endurance," they say, "I scream for ice cream and long pauses between
sets."

Big People at Work.

As we get older – dedicated powerlifters excluded -- training for
health, muscle-leanness and body-function should be the targets of our operations, sensible and righteous. Good-looking muscle will follow obediently like a roaring lion.

About today's latest training principles: There aren't any, unless you consider presses, curls, squats and deadlifts revolutionary. I sat in the gym one afternoon last week determined to invent yet another exercise, technique or methodology, something to stimulate my drowsy system, something I could bring to the table of contents in this week's newsletter. I caught myself slouched and nodding off on the incline bench, a sorry sight indeed.


What I'm saying is this... don't stop hitting the gym regularly and
with purpose or eventually the men in white jackets will take you
away, kicking and screaming, on a gurney or in a tote bag. Then what,
huh?

You've gotta know your training, and knowing it comes from practice -- timeless, undying, enduring practice.

Take heed, long-suffering warriors. We hold in our hands a double-edge sword. Alas, one edge is worn and dulled by age, but its razor-sharp counterpart is honed by time. Both share a common point exacted by experience. A wieldy thing, it serves to clear the way ahead yet slow us down sufficiently, while directing without fail the way we should go. This, the sword of life, is dear.

Well actually, I drop the darn thing occasionally and it lands on my
foot with a painful twang. Swords can be slippery. Hold on tight.

Nevertheless, after a series of questionable thrusts and swipes, I've
personally made a number of discoveries that might interest a few
of those, whose wings are not of the sonic, swept-back variety. You
captains of the twin-wing craft -- the daring yet aging biplane -- are of particular focus.
Be strong and courageous, I'd say, as I sank into a slump. That's my
slick advice to all of you, who might think they are sinking: might as well give it a shot.

Remember, you're not alone out there. I've got your wing. So what, if I don't know how to fly.

Up, up and away... And together we might just master it.

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 18-07-2007 10:47
A day in a life of a Book Worm.
Fitness Manager’s life is not all fun, games and ha-ha-ha. Most of the time it’s pretty grim and boring with sweat, blood and guts passing for entertainment. Not much of it dedicated to glamour either. So if you are imagining somebody, like narrator of this very lines, parading around in tight acid-coloured leotard and shiny leggings all day long, or leaping, Kate Bush style, on the gleaming studio floor, showing generous amount of toned sun tanned bode and famous by “Fame” voluminous leg warmers, think again.
Today is my “OFFICE” day. And, just like Poirot's secretary, Miss Lemon, I am waaaaaaaaaaaay behind with my filing. I am trying to be as efficient as world-renowned Belgian sleuth’s PA. But all I could master so far, I am afraid, is this highly esteemed lady’s stern facial expression. No wonder she had it with the surname like that. And it doesn’t surprise my at all, considering my undying love for paper work, I feel just as sour.

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 17-07-2007 16:11
Tales of Unexpected.
Spend my afternoon multitasking today. Alternating between watching “Columbo” on telly, “Poirot” on the computer, X-training, surfing the Net, taking my pictures with the Mac’s built in camera, reading diaries in “Harbour” and cooking family dinner. Out of all the tasks, one, involvong flipping through virtual pages of the on-line journals is the most depressing and somewhat off-putting. There good many people out their who seem either very delusional or ridiculously in denial, who refuse, point blank, to see an unattractive face of reality in the mirror (their own face, most of the time), or, else, try to convince not just themselves, but the others, that this is “just the silly phase” they are going through. There is also another quite well populated category of “Harbour’ frequenters, who remind me of a little sly Shepherd –boy, arousing his fellow villagers with the cries of ‘Wolf!’ on the regular base and getting them come running to his rescue day or night. Like this lying immature fairy tale character, the heroines of our not such a fictional story follow in his imaginary foot steps and copy his bizarre behaviour. You, probably, have a pretty good idea yourself, about what kind of distractive habit I am talking about. Every now and then (and far too often for my liking) you could read in certain journals those way too familiar and, thus, unbelievable, statements: “That’s IT!!!” “I’ve reached the end of my tether!!!” “I have to pull myself together!!!” “Today – is THE day!!!” “I am going to do EVERYTHING I can to stop eating junk (or just “eating”…period)” “I am going to live on one cabbage leave a day for the eternity and spend ALL my free time chained to the tread mill in my local gym.” And then the bit, which make me want to switch off the monitor, sign myself off the Internet forever and never surf the blue waters of “Harbour” again EVER. “Please, help me to choose the best eating and training programme!!!”
Or, if you are anything like myself and all those simple-hearted village dwellers, don’t hurry up to grab nearest gardening tool from your shed and came scattering to the rescue of this poor victim of too many choices and too little will power. Stop midway and rather then applying yourself to a shovel or a hummer sledge with gusto, employ your intelligence and turn to the “sufferer's” diary pages. The most likely thing to happen in this case would be the size of your astonished face. VERY long one. For you will find, that not for the first time our Damsel is in this kind of Distress. And out of five or six hundred entries every fiftieth or sixtieth would prominently display the same habitual cry: ”WOLF!!! Everybody – to the rescue!!!” And how many pages after the successful Mission Impossible, by using other people's time, research, expertise and advice (quite frankly, wasted), bathing in glory of sympathy and warmth of kindness, everything got back exactly, where it was before? If I am right and THIS is the situation, the best you could do is to stick your fingers into your ears and walk away as fast, as you could. Oh, and don’t forget to take your digging instrument with you. It might be useful to tend to your own garden, rather then killing somebody else's, imaginary, Big Bad Wolf.

PS. If you feel I was unduly harsh and unjustifiably sarcastic, blame the ugly face of the on-line science fiction in front of your very eyes. Not me.

PPS. Afternoon training so far.
1. An hour and a half of X-training (Done).
2. Chest work out in the evening (Still to come).




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[Запись для всех] 16-07-2007 09:44
Like a Bat from the Hell...
This is what dear old Meatloaf might’ve felt like, has he gone through our last night’s back training session. And this is exactly how I feel today: not quite able to spread out my wings (burnt and scorched by hellish work out). There few more reasons for my today’s lousy condition, but they are beside the point. At least as far, as this entry goes.
Back to the BACK WORK OUT, then.
1. Chin-ups. 3X max.
2. Lat. pull downs. 6 X 12-15.
3. Narrow grip pulley. 4 X 12-15.
4. T-bar rows. 4 X 12-15.
5. Wide grip Hammer Strength shrugs. 3 X 12-15.
6. Dead lifts. 4 X 10-12.
7. Hyperextensions. 4 X 15-20.
Took us an hour-and-almost –a half to complete the whole thing. And as for the poundage…Don’t even go there. It’s better, if I put it the way my ever so inventive husband did, when I asked why we are lifting SO heavy today. “I wanted to see at what point YOU might give up and quit.” How very noble of him to be concerned with my character building and will power development! Must say it certainly worked. For today, seating at home, watching the telly, surfing the Net, I got a great idea for “Anchor” butter commercial. How about my Latissimus Dorsi expanding on the TV screen, blocking out the sunlight and a slogan across them? Something along the lines of:” Spread our butter on your toast and there would be no end to your lats spreadability”?

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[Запись для всех] 13-07-2007 11:08
MYTH BUSTERS. Myth Number Two.
Another bodybuilding superstition is about to be dethroned. Quite appropriate for Friday, the 13th, isn’t it?

There Is One Best Way To Train.

Anyone who has experienced remarkable success with any particular type of training might be tempted to think that it’s the one TRUE WAY to train that would give EVERYBODY the best results. There is NO such thing. The reason there are so many different styles and methods of training is that they all produce results. At least for SOME people, for certain periods of time. Eventually, the body will adapt to ANYTHING it’s subjected to, and variables will have to be changed if heightened results are required. You might need to alter your work out split, the routine you perform, the order, in which exercises are put together, your rep range, your rep speed, the frequency or the volume of your training or any combination of thereof. If someone out there is trying to convince you that THIERS is the ONLY WAY to train and, as such, should be followed by EVERY aspiring athlete, that person is either ignorant or after your money. No two ways about it!!!

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[Запись для всех] 12-07-2007 09:25
Climb Every Mountain…
And mountain climbing is what I really do twice a week on the way TO and FROM work. To give you an idea why I have the full right to call those “enjoyable” strolls of mine “Back Break Work Outs”, here are just a few names of the streets I use for the morning, an-hour-and-a-half, cardio sessions: Clay Hill, Cannon Hill, Cat’s Hill, Winchmore Hill, Windmill Hill, Forty Hill, Church Hill (worst of all, for it’s almost vertical), Wades Hill, Eversly Mount. I recon, if you tried it with me you would be quite easily persuaded, that I am not making a MOUNTAIN out of a MOLL HILL.
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[Запись для всех] 11-07-2007 05:00
Rollin', rollin', rollin'... ...
Don't think I need to elaboratemuch on that (see the header). Sometimes I feel like Thomas, The Tank Engine with a Mad Driver at the trottle (could it be The Blues' Brothers?) and the "Destination", well and trully, erm, "UNKNOWN".
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[Запись для всех] 10-07-2007 10:42
Ten Green Bottles.
"10 green bottles sitting on a wall... 10 green bottles sitting on a wall...
And if one green bottle should accidently fall
There will be ...
...sitting on the wall...

9 green bottles sitting on a wall, 9 green bottles sitting on a wall... ..."

It’s a nursery rhyme for under fives, I know. And there is no need to sneer or express any concern or, even, imply, that all that heavy lifting has finally caught up with my mental abilities, and I am an official meathead now, as well, as established muscle bound female meatloaf.
You might laugh and point all you want, but, first of all, I do love kiddies' poetry (being merely a child myself). And secondly, there is a great metaphorical sense in this little verse, originally created to teach children to count backwards. Doesn’t it remind you of something else though? Our life for instance? It’s a count down from the day we’re born. And what’s left at the end of each day, if not the smithereens of broken “green bottle”, fallen off its’ shelf? I am not bothered about what everybody else does with their own personal cellar. But what is very clear to me, that I am fully intent, for the rest of my life, till I am well into my hundredth’ (the sheer cheekiness of the idea!!! ), to take each “green bottle” from its’ customary place with gratitude and anticipation, with reverence, praise and premonition. For, who knows, what might be inside them. A secret message and a map to the island with a buried treasure? Or, magical, wishes granting Genie with a pocket guide book and the password to the Aladdin’s cave? Or, perhaps, a key to the Shangri La - the Shining Kingdom of Eternal Wisdom...



PS. AND HERE IS (totally unrelated to the text above) UNKNOWN PICTURE BY AN OLD MASTER. "Marina" by Sandro (BOTICHELLI).
Then, The Very Same by MODIGLIANI, MUCHA and as a CARTOON CHARACTER.



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[Запись для всех] 09-07-2007 16:36
Another one bites the dust.
Always makes me kinda sad, seeing THIS in my e-mail box:
“Please can you kindly cancel my gym membership as of today?
Thanks. Joanne.”
Is there a good reason behind this voluntary denial of a life-enhancing opportunity? Was it my fault? Did I miss something out or failed to match supply to demand? I am not going to pretend, that it’s ruined my day, or made me feel inadequate, but I still wish I knew the answer.


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[Запись для всех] 08-07-2007 07:24
Which Side Are You On?
The world devided between the Haves and the Have Nots. The Have Nots make excuses to skip training - the weather, the stars, business, dinner party, a flat tire... When they are in the gym, they talk endlessly on the mobile phones, take too many trips to the water fountain, pausing every time in front of the mirror to check their clothing, to admire themselves. They worry about their hair, make up and wether somebody else, on the bike next to them, might have the same, "very expensive" designer gym gear. The Have Nots "train", so they could brag about it later on in front of their snooty friends over a fancy meal in a posh Italian restaurant. To get attention, to stand out, to become a conversaton point, to dine out on it.
The Haves? It's all about THE IRON. They approach lifting, like it is a job. Do it right the first time, and every time, don't mack about and never cut corners. Time's a' wasting. Your set is up. Which side are you on? The choice is yours. This is IRON. Put your pedal to the metal. Could you handle it?
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[Запись для всех] 07-07-2007 07:41
Lucky number SEVEN.
Today's date is 07/07/07 !!!

Catch 22, I wonder?
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[Запись для всех] 06-07-2007 13:50
The Remedy of Macropulous.
Inspired by the lengthy cosmetological discussion in Campanella’s diary and being quite impressed by certain people' expertise in such complicated field, went onto the spur of the moment rampage of the “Boots” beauty counters on the way to work.
Felt slightly irked by my clearly slack approach to what others consider such obviously important (VITAL !!!) area of woman’s life. Had three reasons for my "relaxed" (if not plain lazy) attitude. Firstly, my habitual opposition to aggressively marketed and promoted designer brands, whose only purpose (in my opinion) extract as much money, as humanly possible out of naive and miserable female shoppers by promising them all the wonders of modern beauty witchcraft in one tiny bottle. Pure and simple exploitation of our insecurities, gullibility and childish believe in ”miracle pill” Secondly, I am a cheapskate and an eternal lover of a good bargain. Meaning, nothing more, then a fiver, would ever exchange hands between me and a white coated “Boots” salesman. And, thirdly, one of my long established and well proven life principles is: “If it ain’t broken, don’t mend it” If something works for you, why, then, turn around and change it? Just for the sake of changing? Never works, trust me. Usually makes things a lot worse and spoiles everything, forcing you to spend more afterwards. Whatever it is you will be loosing after your unfortunate experiment: money, time, nerves, or faith in progress, it doesn’t really enhances neither your life style, your self esteem or your purse.
But one must try and live dangerously from time to time, mustn’t one? Aided by my friend Vindetta “Essential guide to “Boots” N7 products” AND backed up by still untouched last month' salary, off I went in search of scientifically approved “Protect and Perfect” beauty serum, publicly promised by BBC research “to make you visibly younger in just four weeks, reguvenate your skin, erase your facial lines and wrinkles” and officially recognized by British dermatological/ cosmetological experts, as one of the rare anti-ageing creams, which REALLY WORKS!!! Never bothered before with anti-ageing creams, but if the wrong side of thirty is not the right time to start using them, then, WHEN?
After all the hype of the past few months and empty "N7" shelves I didn’t expect to find it, but Devil mast’ve set out today to lead me astray and had organized unscheduled restocking for Liverpool Street Station brunch of “Boots” Pharmacy, the Beastly Clever Seducer! The result: “Protect and Perfect” beauty serum bought, accompanied by quite audible teeth grinding, and, as it’s usually the case in such occurrences, a few more "little things" thrown into the shopping basket for a good measure.
Now all I have to do, if the instruction inside the box to be believed, is to apply it twice a day, in the morning and in the evening, “ with the light circular movement of your fingers”, and watch myself becoming younger and younger. Sweet sixteen again, anyone?


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[Запись для всех] 06-07-2007 08:58
Arm Priority Training for Big Biceps and Triceps
The Split.


Standing bent bar curl, superset with
lying tricep extensions
(3-4 sets X 8-12 reps)

Hammer curl, superset with
overhead tricep extensions (3-4 X 10-12)

Wrist curl (3X12), superset with
thumbs up curl (3X8-12), superset with pulley pushdown (3X12-15)

Here you have in simple language the three most effective, most enjoyable and most reliable arm combos I've ever used. They go wa-a-a-a-a-y back and will go on and on as long as the grass grows. Sorry they're not more startling, but the truth when recognized seldom is. "Old Fashioned" exercise combinations are, in fact, today's cutting edge - but only when sharpened and tempered with persistence, patience, confidence and desire. And remember, time is our companion, not our enemy and deserves (demands, rather) our respect.

Choose any 1, 2 or all 3 combos — two times a week, depending on your goals, potential, time allowance, ability to recover and resistance to burnout. Continue your training with commitment for at least 6 weeks. This will give you time to develop pace, form, strength and understanding. Make slow and thoughtful set, rep and weight changes, dutifully logging each workout for best results.

Serve yourself a good portion of easily assimilated protein and complex carbs , 15-30 minutes prior to your training and again 30-90 minutes after to maintain energy, tissue repair and attitude. Remember, pay close attention to the details of your movements, focusing on all the muscle groups involved. You'll be amazed at how 1 or 2 of these combos when performed with diligence and intensity will work the entire upper body.

In curling, we bring the weight forward and up, putting a counter balance demand on our torso, requiring hard work from our thighs, glutes, erectors, traps, upper back, pec minor and deltoids....a lot of blood flow, heart demand and maximum pump are additional benefits enjoyed by this action. Lats are brought in when doing our tricep extensions, and other muscle groups less specifically, if we wish to recruit them with full range of motion and muscle extension and contraction.

Arm priority training fortified with squats, deadlifts and a Hammer chest press/Hi Lat superset will set you in motion. Be bold - persist — let your workout intensity build momentum with this unorthodox training approach and you'll grow.
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[Запись для всех] 05-07-2007 09:49
Today I can't stop listening to...
... ... ... ... "Oasis".

The Importnace Of Being Idle.

I sold my soul for the second time
Cos the man, he don't pay me
I begged my landlord for some more time
He said "Son, the bills waiting"

My best friend called me the other night
He said "Man, are you crazy?"
My girlfriend told me to get a life
She said "boy, you lazy"

But I don't mind
As long as there's a bed beneath the stars that shine
I'll be fine
If you give me a minute
A mans got a limit
I cant get a life if your hearts' not in it

I don't mind
As long as there's a bed beneath the stars that shine
I'll be fine
If you give me a minute
A mans got a limit
I cant get a life if my hearts' not in it

I lost my faith in the summertime
Cos it don't stop raining
The sky all day's as black as night
But I'm not complaining

I begged my doctor for one more line
He said "Son, words fail me"
It ain't no place to be killing time
But I guess I'm just lazy

I don't mind
As long as there's a bed beneath the stars that shine
I'll be fine
If you give me a minute
A mans got a limit
I cant get a life if my hearts' not in it


And here is my favourite bit (quite understandable, considering the summer we are having this year):

I lost my faith in the summertime
Cos it don't stop raining
The sky all day's as black as night
But I'm not complaining


(No, I am NOT.) I JUST CARRY ON TRAINING.


Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 04-07-2007 09:11
Steel lyrics. Iron Fairy Tale.
It happened last night. In an empty and quiet gym, I trained. Oblivious of the surroundings and lost in the world of the Iron Pump. Silence expanded inside me and spilled outside, magically transforming everything around, covering it all in silver dust. In a short break between sets, I walked to the weight rack and squatted next to it, looking absentmindedly at the dumb bells, contemplating idly which one to choose for the next mad "bout of strength".. Then, I looked up and faltered. For, staring from the depths of highly polished steel “looking-glass”, here it was, the reflection of my face, in the cold amalgamated head of my “tool of trade”. It startled me, how different and unfamiliar the features appeared, metamorphosed by simple combination of trick of evening soft light and silvery mocking slab of iron right in front of me. Who was she, this creature of the night inside it? Myself? “Red Sonya”? “Alice in Wonderland”? “Princess Leah”? Somebody I used to know long time ago but have forgotten in the midst of crazy melee of days and nights?
I put my hand to the cool smooth ring and lightly traced the outline of the face with it. “Hi, there, Stranger”, I said. And the image inside smiled and nodded back. The shiny exterior of the steel mirror moved and misted over. And the imprint of my hot after the training finger left slight but clearly visible indent on the expanse of the gleaming skin of seemingly unyielding, stubborn steel.

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[Запись для всех] 03-07-2007 15:11
MythBusters.
There is a very popular show on the Discovery Channel called “MythBusters”, where two presenters separate truth from the urban legend with the help of modern-day science. There happened to be quite a few myths in our little world of bodybuilding, too, and I would like to take this opportunity to clear up some of the most pervasive ones. Some of these myths don’t need just to be busted, they deserve no better, than to be buried at the bottom of the ocean. Throughout my years of training and gym managing I’ve acquired about ten of them. I’ll try and “defraud” at least one every week.

Myth Number One.

All That Muscle Turns Into Fat Once You’ve Stopped Training.

Top of my list. Most frequently referred to, as an excuse NOT to train hard and, probably, the oldest one in the book. It so tired and worn out already, that my feeling is: it should’ve just drop dead and never ever come back to live. But you still hear ignorant people repeating it all the time.
Here’s the deal. Muscles and fat are two entirely different types of tissue. Muscles can no more turn to fat, than skin could turn into bone. When a very muscular person stops training for whatever reason, the muscle usually loses a lot of tone and becomes softer.
And of course, if a bodybuilder continues to eat the same amount of calories that he or she did, while training hard, they will gain body fat. But muscle tissue could only do three things. It can remain the same size. It could grow. Or, else, it will shrink. What it absolutely cannot do is turn into fat.

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[Запись для всех] 03-07-2007 12:25
Interesting link.
www.ironbody.it
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[Запись для всех] 02-07-2007 08:15
Kafka Monday.
Yeah, it's Monday. A-G-A-I-N. But one mustn't complain. must one? It could've been way, W-A-Y worse. I could've had a mentality of twelwe years old, name of Quentin Tarantino, running around on the feverish pursuit of my sick adolecent fantasies: brandishing a cardboard sword, covered in fake blood, and on the constant look out for the next gory movie plot.
No such bad luck for me. Just the usual. Planned, mapped out and carefully "made earlier". All the perks of my profession. Daily murder in accordance with the Classes Time Table: on the studio floor.
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[Запись для всех] 29-06-2007 11:56
GAPs of our lives..
NOT going to talk about London underground with its disputable service, habitual delays, or my daily risk-taking, adventure-soaked, safari-style journeys to work. Come to think op it The Tube has been surprisingly efficient and pleasantly trouble-free lately. And I am even pondering the possibility of making my peace with the annoying, at every-stop announced warning ”Mind the GAP!”
Also will avoid dragging into the question doubtful taste of British tourist-orientated street market where the most popular item would be white cotton knickers with the picture of the Tube symbol and famous slogan:” Mind the GAP”. ON THE CROTCH!!!! In addition, will resolve NOT to fret about globalization and “GAP” stores at each bloody corner. Or financial GAPS in my family’s budget. And, to round it all up – the cracks and the gaps in the ozone layer, in world’s politics, in people’s attitudes and morals, in my personal relationships with the “nearest and dearest”, etc., etc., etc.
I am going to talk about the place, where you could wave all the GAPs aside, or, rather fill them in and glue yourself back together again. THE GYM.
In truth, daily events are part of the reason why many of us work out
with zeal: muscles, strength and fitness topped the list of reasons “WHY” so many of us are on the pursuit of iron dream, but the gnawing stresses of the times have many of us at the "sesamy's" door for sanity and relief.

A good gym is a way station, a refuge, a place of your own to lick
your wounds or prepare you for the good race tomorrow. The field, the
track, your garage, Muscle Limit Gym in North London, or the world’s most famous Venice Muscle Beach.
In short, the gym is where you cleanse, restructure, restore inside and out; no miracles, no magic, no kidding. You forgive, you forget, you remove the thorns, you ease the pain, you count your blessings like reps and sets. You become reunited with yourself as a friend who's worthy, and, silently, those around you, know you better and enjoy you more and life is good for a long time.

Do not go one week without two workouts. Ever. These can be the thirty minutes that save you from the dreaded muscular disease, The GAP.

You've heard of The GAP, haven't you: an unmanageable malfunctioning
of the disciplinary tract, which leads to the deterioration of the
walls of the will? Some poor sods have been known to succumb to the
wretched disorder for months, losing muscle tone and gaining a tire
(excuse me) around the middle. Mild discontent, guilt, irritability
and sloping shoulders accompany The GAP. Loss of energy and stamina
are not uncommon and binge eating has been observed among serious GAP
sufferers.

Some seasons pressure us to limit our exercise schemes, and obliging
the pressure is natural and right. Summer and winter holidays beg for time off. Be aware and recognize the safe and friendly boundaries of maintenance training and faithfully heed them until the more favorable times when you can blast it with hungry might. Failure to do so leads to despicable consequences. Prevention is easier than the cure.

My creed goes something like this: Keep it simple, stick to the
basics, train consistently with enthusiasm and intensity, use logic,
be creative and intuitive, be confident in your applications, be happy and deal with your misery. Be real. Stop fussing.

There are absolutely no secrets. Nothing's new. Collect the necessary
information and get to work. The clutter of intelligence, the waste of words describing a simple thing, the superior heaps of decaying mental rubbish surrounding the notion of exercise and sensible eating is maddening. Why, there are people out there who have read so much they think they actually know something. The learning's not in the reading, it's in the doing.

It's not uncommon for me to refer to the unhealthy and unfit condition of society as a reflection of its apathy, complacency and ignorance.
My references are not insensitive comments on the undesirable fitness
level of the people on the streets. They are not condemnations but
instructive pleas to set the dormant into motion. They are not
intended to ridicule the overweight but rather stir the sleeping. They call the weak to strength with no tone of mocking in the voice. The mocking, rather, is in the ear.

Exercising and eating right regularly prepare us for the tough days
ahead. Exercise is a constructive diversion that relaxes and reduces
stress, strengthens the body, mind and spirit, establishes confidence,builds brotherhood and sisterhood, adds considerably to our resources or limits and prepares us to win the good fight.

You've heard this sermon before: exercise and eat right for good. It is not clever or original, profound or poetic, but it's exact. Today,
more than ever, we need to be exercising, at home, on the streets, at
the park or in the gym. I'm a gym rat and for those who frequent such
entertaining places, I have the same old, but NOT tired message.
Give yourself time to fill the holes in your mind and your physique, don’t let the vacuum of inertia suck you in, avoid the voids and always “MIND THE GAP!”








Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 29-06-2007 07:33
Friday's melancholy...
resulted in haiku:

Rainbows reveal
The secrets
Of sun.



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[Запись для всех] 28-06-2007 09:43
Great BALLS of fire.
Just finished Stability Ball Class. Used my faithful, as guinea pigs today and run the Body Pump routine by them (on the balls and with the dumb bells.) Had predominantly male “audience” this morning. For no apparent reason I seem to be gaining popularity with the “fare sex” of the gym population. Was it something I said, I wonder? Glad to mention, and NOT without a glee, that not even one of the rough-and-ready dumb bell wielding machos was able to sustain the grind. Big strong men were moaning and groaning from pump and strain, turning cheerfully bright-pink or alarmingly beetrooty purple; bodies were dropping down left, right and centre, littering the studio floor.
“C’mon, boys”, I thought, walking around (and, quite frankly, having a BALL), counting the reps, swinging 2,5 in between thumb and index finger. “Te pleasure is all mine and I’ll leave the pain for you to enjoy.” To get this qualification I did it for almost five hours non stop, and poor little moi is what you keep calling “ONLY A WOMAN.” Make sense, I figured: in my BALL Classes having a dick ,to be proud of, is not is not essential. Show me your BALLS of steel.

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[Запись для всех] 26-06-2007 20:41
Body Pump Course.
More like a Body Pump C-U-R-S-E...

True, I am all pumped up. Also achy and shaky. Dead-beat and ready to drop off. Walk around bowl-legged and crabby-armed, like a Pop Eye after prolonged bout of spinach abuse.
But, as they say in training Body Pump DVD : "You're only gonna rock out, what you rolled in." (Supposed to be funny. HA! HA! HA!) "Stick it out, then, baby, grin and bear AND pump it up!"

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[Запись для всех] 25-06-2007 15:37
disARMed.
It ain’t about how dedicated you are or how serious you approach the game. The answers to these questions are beyond doubts, beyond reproach. Obsessed? Nah. We call it discipline. The real question is, how far you could get, when the wheels start falling off… Day in, day out we punish our bodies, grind them down – steel on steel and bone on bone. The body falls on itself under the weight of crushing iron. But what the heart can’t overcome, the mind most certainly will. Guaranteed... And here we have the proof. I survived the last night’s monstrous training session and even could call myself reasonably alive today.

Calves.
1. Standing calf rises. 5 X 15-20.
2. Seated calf rises. 5 X 15-20.
3. Seated toe presses. 5 X 15-20.


Triceps.

1. Weighted dips. 6 X max.
2. Cable push-downs. 5 X 12-15.
3. E-zet bar scull crushers. 5 X 10-15.
4. Narrow grip Smith machine bench presses. 5 X 12-15.
5. Behind the head lying rope triceps extensions 4 X 12-15.
6. Reversed one – armed cable triceps extensions. 4 X 12-15.


Biceps.

1. Alternative standing DB curls. 4 X 15-20.
2. Standing BB arm curls. 4 X 12-15.
3. Cable preacher bench arm curls 5 X 12-15.
4. Concentrated one armed DB curls. 4 X 12-15.
5. Narrow grip chin-ups. 3 X max.




Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 25-06-2007 10:17
Zen of the day.
Don't run crazily around trying to catch up with the latest "IT" (fashion, trend, idea, gadget, fad, etc.) Don't sell your soul for the mess of the porridge. Remain who you are, always be true to yourself, keep your identity. Remember, time moves in spirals and, sooner or later, it'll come back to the same point. To YOU. By staying still, you become modern.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 24-06-2007 09:19
Listening to Raphael ( Haroche) .
- I am sweeping the desert.
-Why?
-Somebody has to.


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[Запись для всех] 23-06-2007 12:19
Apple of my eye.
Got a new computer yesterday. "AppleMac". Have taken a leaf out of DireXtor's book and sat down to study. Fascinating. E-mail address - check! Internet connection - check. "Harbor" - works. Hurraayy!!! It's got a built in camera too!!! Love it already.


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[Запись для всех] 22-06-2007 07:31
To blog or not to blog...
БЛОЖить иль не БЛОЖить?

(Официальный перевод предыдущей записи. Всем virtualльным ПОХУдальцам посвящается).

Писать иль не писать?
Такая, вот, зараза.
То глючит site,
То мышь не clickает ни разу.

Творить иль не творить?
Пусть жребий злой судьбу
Стихов моих решает.
Пойду сожру чего, покуда "GOOGLE"
Свой поиск завершает.

Постить иль не постить?
Вопрос хороший.
Забраться в "аську"?
В skype корчить рожи?
"Ни дня без строчки!"
"Каждый смайлик - в BLOG!"
А как ещё свои virtualьный рейтинг
Повышают?
Пойти, что ль, с"есть чего, пока
Компьютер "Harbor" перезагружает?

Часть третья, заключительная. Написано в метро, по дороге с работы. А то чувствовалась "какая-то недоговорённость".

Худеть иль НЕ худеть?
От голода мутит...
Вот, гости подошли. Пьют водку,
Рыбку красную жуют, икру едят.
Грибочки.
ДИЕТЕ - Быть,
Или НЕ быть?
Не Гамлет я.
И не Шекспир.
Что было - с"едено (и выпито).
Записано.
И точка!


[VETA-S]
[Муся-Маруся]
[Mirna]
[Хрю]
[диреХтор-2]
[PretoGatu]
[Chashka]
[Vindetta]
[фро]
[MeDy3a]

Всем прочитавшим и оценившим, а так же предложившим конструктивную критику (неоправданно восторженные похвалы, в основном, но вы продолжайте, лесть - вращает землю, и кто ж её не любит) - огромное спасибо и моя улыбающаяся, цветущая от удовольствия морда.
Ну, и себе немножко.



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[Запись для всех] 21-06-2007 07:10
Mocking the classics.
After Hamlet's monologue.

Some days it's
Smooth and pleasant.
Other times -
It's very bumpy ride.
I'm still uncertain,
Failed to (yet)
Decide
Which one is easier:
TO WRITE
(or simply)
NOT TO WRITE?



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[Запись для всех] 20-06-2007 10:53
PMS state of mind.
All of the below is brought on by morning conversation with a client. A FEMALE client, as you might guess after familiarizing yourself her "confession". (What I’ve ever done in my previous lives to deserve all this at seven o’clock in the morning? Must’ve been something pretty bad, ha?)
“I know I’ve got slim waist, flat stomach, toned thighs and arms. Unfortunately, it’s all hidden beneath layers and layers of fat.” She even tried to demonstrate, poor thing, grabbing her spare tire with both hands and making thrusting movements with this fold of flesh, as though intending to rip it off and throw into my face. The gesture was graphical and expressive and looked curiously desperate and sad at the same time.
“But I am determined now! I’ve decided –enough is enough! I’ve got a holiday in four weeks time, and I need to get in shape for that bikini!!!” I didn’t ask, where she was for the remaining forty eight weeks of the year and how come her wonderful courage took so long to generate. No point. It’s the usual sort of things I am faced up with, and square against every year, comes holiday season. So worn out and weary by it, I even abandoned all attempts at my habitual cynicism and stopped suggesting plastic surgery, as a more obvious choice and a less drastic measure. THIS alone should be enough to make you see how bad the situation really is.
Instead, I listened absentmindedly, sighing inwardly, but keeping a professional, caring and deeply concerned facial expression and making polite remarks, nods and sounds at the calculated intervals and in the appropriate places. At the end of our little charade, where she knew I was fed up and pretending and I knew she knew it, we sat down on the bench with a pen-and-piece of paper and went through usual, befitting the situation, routine: nutrition, exercises, motivation, steady, slow, progressive, blah, blah, blah…She knew she would fail eventually, I knew she most definitely would, and we both knew it was all such a waste of time and, frankly speaking, loads of bull sh***t.
But I do, in fact, have a very good and very simple formula for the sad case above and for many equally pathetic ones I am being burdened with on the daily bases.
I call it a PMS approach. No it doesn’t mean me, walking around in a state of permanent agitation, shaking and twitching from hormonal madness, attacking the clients and members, armed with a dumb bell (the heavier – the better) and boxing glove. Though, if all the political correctness to be dropped, some of them would be quite deserving of such treatment!

The PMS approach is just an abbreviation, meaning “PATIENCE. MOTIVATION. SYSTEM.” It’s all self-explanatory, really, but if you so wish I might elaborate on each one of the components.

PATIENCE. Follow the path towards your goal making small, but steady steps. Bear in mind the result you’re trying to achieve, but brake it into the small tasks. Approach each of them one at a time and don’t move to the next stage before completing the previous one. Don’t make grandiose plans, stick to more realistic but attainable ones. Give yourself plenty of time for every phase in your undertaking, allowing for a few lapses, plateaus and fallouts.

MOTIVATION. Different for everybody. Find your own. Understand what makes you tick and employ it as your secret and lethal weapon. Whatever you doing it for: to finally, become fit enough to run a marathon or to see ”that blond skinny bitch at the desk opposite dropping her jaw” at the sight of a new, stunning you – both deserve equal respect and recognition.

SYSTEM. There usually is system in every madness, and our fat –losing craze should not be an exception. Develop a complex approach, use all the tricks in a book, make sure more than one thing would work in union and compliment each other speeding up the process and aiding your success. Slimming down is not as straight forward and elementary process as many of us think. There is a lot more to it, than simply jumping on the tread mill or pumping iron under the watchful eye of a personal trainer and crunching carrot and lettuce at lunch time. It normally means sorting your head out, implementing new ways of thinking and re-educating and restarting your brain into a “healthy” mode. Some of us do need to start paying loads of attention to what is passing our lips daily and even hourly. Food journals, nutritional diary, calorie counters are great thing for people with a head for figures and organized mind or those, in need of rigid control and strict order. There are so many reasons for our “warm and loving” relationship with food - read “bad eating habits”, “food dependency and addiction” and worst and scariest of all, “eating disorders” . In most severe situation, some kind of physiological help might be required.
Apart from shrinks, diet and exercises don’t be shy to try and enjoy all the benefits of traditional methods: sauna, steam room, aroma therapy, massages, oils and herbs; and the newest know-how of the beauty industry: peels, injections, meso, lasers, lipo, etc., etc., etc. – all gist to the God’s mill, if anything else failed to make an impact in your physique.

With all that said and done, with the amount of assistance and information available, there is still a little snag remaining: nobody will do it for you, if you are not willing to heave the burden yourself.
And, who knows, if you succeed, eventually, you might even stop saying:” There is a thin woman inside me somewhere, and I wish to God she’d get out! And, then, I’ll be half the weight I am now!!!”



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[Запись для всех] 19-06-2007 15:29
Popular demand.
Judging by the amount of comments in the entry below, some kind of chain reaction is in process. I am gaining a VIP status with all the speed of avalanche triggered by some foolish, hangover to the back teeth tourists, practicing their yodeling on the crispy, snowy morning on the white mountain slopes in the very heart of Swedish Alps. Was it something I said, I wonder?
Unlike some, I don’t seek popularity, never craved publicity, and attention does not turn me on. In fact, when too much of it is lavished upon my humble persona, I feel irresistible urge to grow a snails’ shell on my back and withdraw into it's’ safe enclosure immediately and indefinitely, horns, tail, warts an’ all.
Guess, with all my outwardly showbiz and “show-it-all” exterior I am still pretty much of a hermit inside and, at times, interest of the others, as flattering, as it is, might start appear a little bit overwhelming. Bordering on intrusion sometimes. When it happens, I promptly put my misanthropic hat on; get in touch with my inner ascetic self and, for a day or two, turn into virtual recluse. Unfortunately, the same can’t be done in the real world. UN-virtually. The way of life I’ve chosen prevents me from walking it in solitary existence, and forces me out into the harsh light of other people problems, their incessant scrutiny and unwelcome nosiness. Cavemen, all other things considered, had it a lot easier, where all this schmooze business is concerned. And, even though human beings are social animals, being marooned on a deserted island without any other upright walking creature within an eye reach and with NO means of communication, does strike me as infinitely attractive every once in a while.
On the other hand, being needed, popular, “in vogue”, might be not so bad after all. Gives you an inner boost, increases your sense of self and heightens your morals and resolve. Fair exchange, I guess. Supply and demand sort of things. Be grateful ( I AM!!! Always surprised, when somebody shows any interest in my writing, ideas and the very fact of my existence), honored, recognized, accepted; and if you ARE a “flavour of the month”, don’t devour it in one greedy gulp. Let the sensation last.. Sample it. Taste it. Savor it. Enjoy.
(I do).
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[Запись для всех] 17-06-2007 10:11
A morning sketch in philosophy.
There’s nothing exceptional in most of us but, as individuals, we’re all unique and extraordinary. All pretty standard and yet, custom-made. Every one of us enhances somebody else’s existence in this world and justifies their own presence here, even if indirectly, broadening other human’s horizons or propelling new stars into the cosmos of their universe. It started worrying me lately, what kind of an impact my life so far has had on other people being here and to what effect.
I don’t know, why I am writing all this. NOT, you would understand, trying to impress an invisible dispute opponent or, touch wood, to lecture a stray morning Internet prowler, finishing their second cup of tea and wiping greasy, croissant-and butter smeared mouth with the OTHER (mouse-free, that is) hand. It’s nothing new, really, and other people before me have had those thoughts as more after me, most probably, will. Would’ve been easier to accept this sudden mood of brood and solemnity, has it happened on the quiet rainy afternoon or the magical starry night under magnificent arch of the constellation-splattered sphere. But on the cheery blue-gold-and-green Sunday morning with the birds chirping, flowers blooming, in between first-thing-after-the waking –up-cardio-session and cooking hearty family-style breakfast? NONSENSE! If you want my honest and not such biased opinion.
It could’ve been easily dismissed as a simple case of an early outbrake of wisdom, “old head on the young shoulders” sort of things, was it not grossly contradicting the facts of reality. Let’s face it, I am NOT a spring chicken and my “wisdom” (if you could call it THAT) is hard earned and long-suffered for. Could be the result of endorphin surge in the blood stream, caused, in turn, by an early work out today (an hour of cardio and some circuit-style resistance training), heightening up all the senses, increasing the sensation of being ALIVE and PRESENT and sending my whole system into an overdrive.
Whichever one it might be, doesn’t really matter, as long, as it does not mean, that my time here is growing short OR, that I started taking myself too seriously, believed my own publicity and, on the strength of it, decided (subconsciously, of course) to come up with a book of memoirs with some ridiculous name and even more hilarious content.
I will come to my senses, lower myself back to the Earth, stand firmly on it with both my feet again and direct them to the nearest buried treasure centre – our local and very popular car boot sale. You wouldn’t find loads of philosophy there, or even too much sophistication, for that matter. But heaps of shrewdness and oodles of common sense are always available there, and this is just what I need today. Pity, though, they are NOT for sale.


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[Запись для всех] 16-06-2007 15:49
Axiom of the day.


SEX - HAPPENS!!!


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[Запись для всех] 14-06-2007 11:52
Claim to fame.
Funny day at work today. Nothing to do, but the telephone is ringing non stop. Member with a query, area manager with a request, gym joining appointment confirmation, training advice, client’s complaint or somebody simply wanting a chat (Ha! What do you know? It’s ME!!!)
For the want of anything better to do, to make myself look occupied and to keep the brain ticking over, spent last half hour trying to come up with a little poem. About myself, out of all the subjects in the world. Brining ones self-esteem every now and then wouldn’t hurt, you know. Though mine is high enough, as it is, thank you, but nevertheless…

All I could master so far is sort of a refrain or chorus for each verse (they are still to be composed):

Marina, the Diva,
Marina, the Winner,
Marina, the Sinner,
Marina – the Saint.


“Diva” doesn’t really rhyme with the rest of it, but the only other suitable one for my name would be “The Cleaner”. And even though I do clean gym kit on the regular base, the idea of being known world-wide for my house keeping abilities is a lot less appealing, than the image of me in feathery head-piece, tight little spandex dress and sparkling stiletto heals of Dana International. (Dressed in drag, basically.) So Prima Donna it is, then.

PS. I’ll let you in on further poetical progress. If ANY will occur.



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[Запись для всех] 12-06-2007 18:10
What’s new, pussycat?
Nothing really, apart from the fact that I’ve been putting together our company’s News Letter half of the day today. As though it’s not enough churning the amount of verbiage I do daily for my "Harbor” diary, and have been asked to consider writing a Fitness Column for the “Mirror” web-site. “Marina’s Top Tips” the proposed working title is. ( By the way, so far there is only a handful of people who’s been fortunate enough to have an access to my..., erm..., TIPS. You, probably, will recall them too, unashamedly sticking out and pointing at the camera.)
I am quite happy with all the attention I am suddenly starting to get, and extremely fluttered by my literary talents’ recognition. But would I be suitable for the role of a long lost and happily found member of the industrious Dumas family? Dumas daughter, perhaps? Oh, Boy, what a thought! Well if I am not going to try it we’ll never find out, I guess.
“ONE FOR ALL!” then.

PS. Speaking of literature, writing, novels, creativity, etc ... It might be, that in my vocabulary "BEING CREATIVE" means completely something else, than does in yours, conventional one. My approach to creativity normally constitute of having "CREATIN". On its own before training, and mixed with protein poweder - after. I guess you could say, that creativity IS in my blood.
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[Запись для всех] 10-06-2007 08:27
LEGitimate killing.
Trained legs last night. After thoughtful reading of “MD” magazine, decided to try new approach to training and concentrated on the range of movement instead of variety of exercises and sheer volume. As much, as I could brag about my legs' development AND their size (mostly the size), I realize they do lack details and separation. The latter will be taken care of (already is, in fact) by progressively increasing cardio work outs and the strict diet for the next fourteen weeks. A bit of “sport technology” wouldn’t go amiss, mind, though there are some opposing party, who keeps warning me against it. Don’t you fret, my dear anxious friend. I do have loads of common sense and bags of reason, and always know, where to stop. But you are right in one respect, I gladly give you that – in our business, there IS a very fine line between simply intense and over-the-top extreme. We’ll leave the mine field of moral arguments well alone and move back to the safe and comfortable ground of my physical imperfections As for the former (we are talking legs’ details here, in case you’ve forgotten already), it’s the tear-drop muscles I am most concerned with. The bulk is there, but the shape is not. And that, with my sturdy body and heavy frame, simply won’t do. It gives me unattractively beefy look and unfeminine blocky appearance. This, where the new training goal, namely, FULL RANGE OF MOTION, is going to come in. The truth of the matter is – I do neglect it very often. Either for the sake of number of exercises per a work out, or for the amount of poundage per movement. Last night I concentrated on the very bottom part of the range, the bit, where you just about to hit “horizon”, held for 2-3- seconds in this position and got up very slowly without locking the knees up on the top. That’s the best and the ONLY way to make your vastus medialis work, and this is how I am hoping to bring up that stubborn lugging part of my thighs, eventually. Hell of a work out, I’ll tell you that for free. Legs were buckling, lungs exploding, blood pumping, veins popping out (on my neck mostly), but I still went fairly heavy on the last two sets for every exercise we did. 110 kg on the squats, for 12 reps, with a VERY proper form – not too bad, eh?

Leg extensions – 6 X 12-20.
Squats – 5 X 12-15.
Hack squats – 5 X 12-15.
Roman chair squats – 5 X 12-15.

Happy to say, all the suffering was worth it. Today my tear-drops are screaming every time I am sitting myself down. Guess, you could call it “murder on the gym floor”. And would be perfectly justified, too.

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[Запись для всех] 08-06-2007 17:12
The FALL OF THE TREE. True or false?
There is a famous philosophical question, pretty useless in real life, or so it seems, AND with no satisfying answer: ” If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?” This question designed to challenge students with the concept of existence and perception. Is there a sound, if no one hears it? Does something matter or even exist if no one is aware of it?
This concept, futile, in practical life, as it might appear, in reality could be applied to anything, I've found. I've been kicking it around for about a week, went over half-and-a-ton of relevant literature, and could, probably, call myself an expert on the subject. Take our tightly knit, ever so friendly "Harbor" community and its’ current inhabitants and frequenters. Has it ever made you wonder if they actually exist outside the Internet? Are they real people, or a mere cyber phantoms, coming to function with the click of your mouth only? Are they flesh and blood, or simply a black tick on the yellow square on you “Buddies” or “Enemies” list? And, most intriguing of all, why some of them seem to be forever in the “on-line” mode? Spend all their time, surfing the Net, making entries in their diaries every five minutes (“I’ve just got up, had a coffee, a breakfast, a pee, a pooh, lunch, sex, row with my husband/boyfriend/lover/mum/dad, dinner, went to sleep – delete, as appropriate); plotting and arguing on “Forums” AND participating in ANY topic imaginable – from organizing small business to threesomes and group sex (come to think of it, aren’t those two essentially the same?)
Are they all lonely, friendless, horribly unverbal, grossly deprived of communicational skills and socially inadequate people? And if so, are they trying to create an illusion of existence for themselves, or, indeed, as the question goes, “to MAKE A SOUND”? It looks very plausible, this theory, especially, if you are to run not such a beady eye over the contents of those people journals. They consist mostly of lies. Lies of a very specific kind. Not even your carefully constructed, clever little “science fictions”, with the truth only slightly decorated and the reality dressed up a bit. No. They are crude fabrications, very bad in taste, patronizing in tone, tasteless in style and insulting to reader’s intelligence. Mind you, I am not mentioning anyone in particular or naming names, but you got my drift, since it is waaaaay too obvious. Ans, apart from being funny in a sad sort of way, it keeps fascinating me and brings us back to the same question: Is it all for the sake of being heard? If you’ve done something good without ANYONE being around to witness it, does it make you feel, as though nothing happened? That you’ve accomplished nothing, and, for you - success, without acknowledgement, equals failure? Is it more important to you, how you look from outside, how you’re perceived, than the fact that you’re given a gift of life and existence, even if nobody else on earth will ever care for this very fact? If the life without limelight, with “all substance, but no style” is more, than you could bear, than you ARE that proverbial, soundless tree in the forest of life.
All this kept churning in my head, popping into mind, uninvited, every now and then for a good few days now. So much so, that I’ve even conducted a little research on the Internet to find the best answers to the infamous “TREE QUESTION”.
Here are three I particularly like:
1. The point is there is no answer... or all answers are right which means they are all wrong... it questions facts as we know them...
2.YES! especially if the tree falls on YOU!!
3. The BEST Answer:
I don't know, but, anyway, the REAL question is: If a tree falls in the forest, and nobody is around to hear it, does anyone care? (We are back, where we started, don't you think?)

*************************************************


Have you heard the tree fall yet?


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[Запись для всех] 07-06-2007 10:35
In anticipation of Second Coming.
Don’t pull a face, if you are an atheist for we are not talking Bible here. No open sky, white robes, angels’ wings, eternal life or Hell’s scorching fire. NO SINNERS EITHER. You might, very possible, bump into one pretty virtuous and firm BELIEVER. This is who I am going to turn into right in front of your very eyes. For the next two-and-a-half month, anyway. No, I am not going to don a monk robe, turn into a scholar and keep the night vigil, studying sacred book. I am simply trying to sort out my eating and training routine for the next twelve weeks in order to look good for a professional photo shoot in September.
Truth is, I liked it so much first time around, that I am willing to go through the nightmare of dieting and cardio again just for the thrill of looking in the mirror and realizing that this stunning creature in the polish surface is the result of MY hard work, MY discipline and MY dedication (all cliches,of course but valid nevertheless), and, most importantly, that SHE is all ME. I ‘ve been quite good all this time since my and comrade DireXtor infamous (if somewhat half-mocking) bet. I ate right, never stopped doing cardio and even manage to keep some definition on various body parts. All I need to do now is to start tightening up my nutritional screw again l crank up the aerobic knob a bit. I’ll take it slightly easier for the following two weeks. With an occasional carbohydrate meal every once and a while, if feeling too knackered and run down. And a chest meal on Saturdays, I dare say, wouldn’t go amiss. From the 1st of July my diet plan will look like this:

Meal one.
Protein shake.

Cardio.

Meal two.
4 egg whites’ omelette. Celery stick.

Meal three.
120g chicken breast (boiled), cup of broccoli.

Meal four.
Same as meal three.


Meal five.
Same, as meals three and four.

Training.

Meal six.
Protein shake after the training.

Cardio.

Meal seven (if required).
120g steamed fish.



Training is still in progress of being mauled over, chewed upon and digested. But, if after looking at this proposed menu of mine you feel enormously bored and, quite possibly, slightly sick, I don’t care. I am willingly and gladly prepared to turn into piece of funky poultry myself, as long, as it all helping hand(or breast, rather) to my, VERY NOBLE, case.





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[Запись для всех] 06-06-2007 08:56
“Strawberry Fields ...
... ...forever”… "Beatles"...

This is what I am listening to on the 95.8 Capital FM (they play decent music every once in a while, and non of the Chris Moyle self-congratulatory, self-promotional, self-obsessed, half-psychotic bunter!) And this is what I am having for my late breakfast. Pound-box of fresh British strawberries from “Tesco”. With these two of a morning (the song AND the fruit) you simply can’t get it wrong, can you?

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[Запись для всех] 05-06-2007 14:11
Where the heart is...
When you are growing up, more often, than not, you give everybody hard time by being heartless. When you are a grown up, very often you've got your heart broken due to that very fact. Even more of the heartache is the realization, that nothing, but NOTHING, will bring your loved ones back, and it's too late to make amends.
Happy birthday, MUM.


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[Запись для всех] 02-06-2007 10:30
What You Did Is Who You Is.
It’s June, a favorite time of the year, and you’ve resurrected your entire summer wardrobe. A fabulous fashion display -- shorts, T-shirts and tanktops, most of them threadbare. You play hard. And you face the naked truth.

The stretch of warm and sunny days ahead presents pleasure or panic, depending on the shape you’re in. You knew last winter this time would roll around. You anticipated it eagerly and hopefully. You prepared for it as the spring approached. You made lists, scheduled time, set goals, renewed your gym membership and stocked tuna and water.
Winter dragged by as winters do: fireplace and holidays, down jackets and the slippery slopes. Tell me: Did your workouts get the big chill and your diet the cold shoulder? Did your arms minimize and your abs maximize as the temperatures dropped and the sun flopped? Do the garbage and the groceries and the baby weigh a ton, and does a flight of stairs look like the Rocky Mountains?
Did you eat smart and exercise, despite the wind, cold and gloom and layers of clothing? If you did, you are one of humanity’s special cool CATS (Characters Against TV and Snacking). Or did you retire to the comfort of copious food and a cushioned shelter? You’ll know by the shape your shape is in. You are, perhaps, an honorary member of society’s -- Warning: The following language is graphic and may not be suitable for human consumption -- porkulent PIGS (People Intentionally Growing Stomachs).
What you do is who you are, or, more precisely, what you did is who you is.
There’s still hope for those who, through neglect, irresponsibility, laziness, ignorance, foolishness, lameness or apathy, have failed to apply their fitness disciplines throughout the past year. I understand. And some of you have endured life’s subtle difficulties -- coma, solitary confinement, traction, amnesia, uncontrollable bleeding, seizures and delirium -- and exercise and smart eating have not topped your priority list. It happens. It’s Life.
Take heart! It’s not too late; it’s never too late. I have 10 commandments for you. You may call them suggestions.

First, a disclaimer: You’ve heard them all before. That’s okay! Obviously you forgot them. You’ve also heard the sharp directives: do not smoke, do not speed, do not litter, danger ahead, slow down and stop. How about, don’t lie, don’t cheat, don’t steal and love your neighbor? They’re good. They work. They’re keepers.
Let’s go over them one more time.
1) Dispose of the troublesome food around your digs; soft drinks, sweets and fatty treats top the list. They are mocking you, controlling you, diminishing and hurting you. Toss them!
2) Balance your meals to suit your needs with your favorite proteins, carbs and fats. You can’t go wrong with 40 percent of your calories from protein, 30 percent from nutritious carbs and the remaining 30 from essential and suitable fats. The less sugar and grease you ingest, the better. The more living and whole foods you consume, the better.
3) Eat five or six small meals regularly throughout the day to support your ongoing need for energy fuel (carbohydrates and fats), ingredients for daily metabolic functions (vitamins, minerals, micronutrients, enzymes), material for tissue growth and repair (proteins) and much more.
4) Start each day with a simple breakfast to greet the morning’s demands with strength and high spirits. Eat every 3 to 4 hours to fortify your system and your activity. Planning to gain weight, add a meal. Hoping to lose weight, limit your meals to four a day. Eating sensibly and frequently reduces one’s hunger, eliminating the need and desire to consume out-of-control, fat-inducing and poorly assimilated larger meals.
5) Have sparkling fresh water handy for regular and generous consumption: purifies, restores, energizes, harmonizes, mobilizes and, amazingly, quenches thirst.
6) The value of protein and vitamin, mineral and micronutrient supplementation cannot be disregarded. Supplemental fortification can add to your wellbeing and your body’s ability to build muscle and might. Wise supplementation can save you time and money. Wild supplementation can drive you to the poorhouse.
7) Restate your training goals and purposes. Review your nutritional scheme and exercise regime. It helps to know what you’re doing, where you’re going and why. Get a clue, Lou.
8) If you’re new to iron, there’s a huge amount of training and nutritional information at your fingertips. I mean on the Internet. It’s simple and straightforward, tried and true. Have fun, snoop around, discover, learn and grow. Surf it, find the relevant info and click on any subject that catches your eye, rings a bell or grabs you by the wagging tail and won’t let go. The reading is always enjoyable and worthy.
If you’ve been around for three, five or eight years, you’ve matured and grown with us. You know where to go. The basics remain. Nothing’s changed, nothing’s cancelled, nothing’s new, but more bright and shining tips, hints and encouraging experiences have been added regularly. This is a reminder to dig in.
9) I’ll sneak this one in here where offenders will least expect it. Do you smoke? How can you, with all you know about life and love and the pursuit of happiness? Sure it’s a tough battle to confront. So are emphysema, cancer, hardened arteries, accelerated aging, incessant coughing, an ashen, wrinkled face, shortness of breath and impeded muscle growth. Most cigarette habits cost something like 150 pounds a month (six jugs of high quality protein powder), or 1800 pounds yearly (protein, supplements, gym membership and a pair of trainers, shorts and a t-shirt).
Cigarettes also stink. Be strong and courageous, healthy and happy. Stop.
While I’m at it, do you drink excessively? These common, everyday social habits are tearing us apart. Development ceases, destruction commences. The body is beaten, the mind is wasted, thoughts are scattered, emotions are abused, character is shredded and the spirit wanders aimlessly, while, ironically, quite different kind of spirit entering your blood stream. Forget muscle and might, health and wealth, family and friends, joy and contentment. You have alcohol and its companions instead. Live life. Stop.
10) About exercise: Has it been a while? You still have your membership, but the gym went belly-up at the end of last year (and you know the feeling). The weights you’ve collected since high school in ’76 have transformed into an unrecognizable, fuzzy pile of rust stashed under the dismantled go-cart with a lawnmower engine in the right rear corner of the garage. Your Weider Wall Charts were buried in the earthquake of ’89, along with your wrist roller and a water bottle.
Yes, we all have good reasons why our training is not on track, bombers, but our training must be done. We love it, after all.
It doesn’t have to be elaborate. Walking works. Walking uphill works better. Walking swiftly wearing a weighted vest and weights in hand works best. Running is faster.

The first step is the hardest; the first rep is the toughest. Pick a handful of favorite coordinated exercises and practice them with order, good form, enthusiastic pace, bomber assurance, steady focus and true aim. Once you start, keep your eye on your goals and don’t stop.
If you do nothing else, do this: Alternate the following short and simple workouts throughout the week with committed, unbridled might.
Supersetting is suggested after a brief, injury-preventing warm up.
Workout 1) 30 degree incline dumbbell press and seated lat row
(4, 5, 6 sets x 8, 10, 12 reps)
Workout 2) Squat and deadlift
(4, 5, 6 sets x 8, 10, 12 reps)
Workout 3) Standing, incline or alternate dumbbell curl and dips
(4, 5, 6 sets x 8, 10, 12 reps)

Throw in some aerobic of choice (rumor has it brisk walking works), and do some crunches and leg raises and calf work throughout the days, weeks and months.
This approach is designed for those who don’t have an approach, and arranging one is unlikely. The combinations are almost primitive; they are unsophisticated, glitter-free, borderline dumb, nearly crude and indescribably fun. They are, also, absolutely effective if you have a heart and soul and adhere to the other sensible suggestions listed previously.
How on earth do people miss the simple truth? God help us! And those, who listen!


Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 01-06-2007 12:53
Milkin' it.
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Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 31-05-2007 22:55
Room for improvement.
On the train today. Two passengers are having a heated argument.

One to another:

"Who do you think I am? A PERFECT IDIOT?"

Me, before leaving the train:


"NOBODY'S PERFECT!!!"



Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 30-05-2007 09:06
Work out. Time to spice it up.
With the summer almost upon us, it is still springtime. Seasonal changes are still a lovely novelty. New leaves are still acidy green and sticky-fresh. Blooms haven’t dropped their petals yet, and birds are busy, organizing family life, repairing nests and mapping up the shortest routes to the juiciest worming places in the neighborhood. Anticipation of change is in the air, clear and tangible. Sometimes almost palpable. EVERYTHING is clean, and new and fresh. Why not your work out, then? If you freshen’ up your wardrobe with every new season, why keep your old and tired training programme the same? It’s well worn out, doesn’t excite you any more, it could hardly cover your needs and simply does not serve the purpose. No wonder, that it makes you disheartened and frustrated and drive you right out of the packed and buzzing gym straight in the nearest coffee shop, where you could at least sport your new sling-backs, if not be sporty.
Fear not, my friends. Work outs, just like wardrobes, could be re-vamped and re-styled to suit the latest trends and to avoid any training faux pa.
Here is the work out of one of my on-line friends. She used it for good half-year already and, from what I could see, has slightly outgrown it.
1. Chest. Peck-deck. 3 X 12.
2. Shoulders. Shoulder press. 3 X 12.
3. Back. Seated pull-over. 3 X 12.
4. Biceps. Arm curls. 3X 12.
5. Triceps. Arm extension. 3 X 12.
6. Quadriceps. Leg extension. 3 X 12.
7. Hamstrings. Seated leg curl. 3 X 12.
8. Outer thigh. Leg abduction. 3 X 12.
9. Inner thigh. Leg adduction. 3 X 12.
10. Bent-knee leg raises. 3 X 12.

Please, note, all exercises done with the fixed weights (machines), NOT free weights. It makes all the movements isolated, not basic, and, taken out of it's’ initial five weeks span, doesn’t really give your body enough shock and stress to fight against and to produce decent results regarding muscle growth and fat melt-down. It is also worth mentioning, that my friend used the same poundage in every set, without altering it. And that is, where we’ll find the desired room for improvement, if you a creature of habit, love your routine, feel comfortable with it and wish to hold on to it for dear life.
All you need to do in this case is use what’s known as “PYRAMID PRICIPLE” of training. The gist of it – you increase the weight from set to set and drop the amount of reps accordingly. Start with a lighter weight, do LOADS of repetitions. Say, 20 or 25, in your first set. Keep a good form and don’t use jerky, speedy movements. Bring the weight up in your second set (even if it is NOT by much, even if it is a mere pound), and this time do 15 or 12 reps. Take a little break (half-a-minute to forty five seconds) and do your third, last, AND heaviest, set. The weight will go up again to allow you to press, pull, curl or extend by your lowest amount of reps: 10 or even 8. You have to calculate it correctly, always bearing in mind, that the indication of the right workload (for YOU, not for anybody else!) is not feeling comfortable, but FEELING the resistance of the weight, with being WELL AWARE of it for the LAST TWO REPETITIONS.
This is the first and most obvious change you could do to refresh you training without breaking it's’ structure. It will give your system the necessary challenge to overcome for the next five to eight weeks.
Well, this is “Spicin’Up Secret Number One”, folks. I’ve got two more even greater ones up my sleeve. They are a-comin’.


Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 29-05-2007 14:35
New training split.
Day one. Shoulders, traps, calves.
Day two. Legs.
Day three. Off.
Day four. Chest, biceps.
Day five. Back, triceps, calves.
Day six. Off.

Start from the beginning and pray to the Lord you are tough enough to keep it up for the next ten weeks.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 27-05-2007 14:20
The Tough Love of Weight Training.
You want peace and quiet? Go to the gym early on a cheerful, spring Sunday afternoon. You can hear a pin drop; your voice will echo across the void, any bench is yours and there’s no shortage of bars or plates. You can change the music, raise it or lower it, or steal the whole darn sound system, if you please. No one cares, the place is empty. I have been exploiting the solitude of the iron-palace on the weekends almost since before I started training properly. More over – on Bank Holiday week ends, like today's.
I thought you might be interested in how I’m doing on those lonely outings to the Dungeon of the Iron Gripper. How my training progresses and what I do overcome the ever present urges to fast-forward through my “to do” list of exercises, skip a few and make a dash for freedom anybody deserves after their working week of 14 X 5 amongst the clanking of steel and the fumes of sweat. "I’m okay" is my first response, but direct and concise commentaries make for a very short diary entry. Therefore, allow me to elaborate, exaggerate, pretend and lie. Why change my style now?
"Okay" works. "Okay" is a broad response and leaves room for interpretation. The tone and facial expression with which you communicate the term is deciding. Okay plus a nod indicates you are, in fact, just okay; okay with a shrug means you could be better; okay plus a grimace is a sure sign you’re not so okay; okay with a radiant smile and you are terrific. Okay uttered with an agonizing groan, you’re barely surviving.
Okay is what you say when you want to convey reasonable satisfaction with your condition, but you’re not willing to jinx yourself with, “I’m great.” I’m great is beyond hopeful, and borders on boastful. Okay can be complicated and confusing. “Great” is simple but just as misleading. But such is the grim reality of weight training and undecorated ugly truth about it that this is the path we’ve chosen, and this is the trait we’d love to hate.
Where will we find the will and wits and courage to do what we must do? How often I was too tired and sick and apathetic to sit, stand and walk or ingest sound nourishment; but I did because I knew I could and I knew I had to and I knew it worked. I had done it all before -- at another level, under different circumstances -- again and again.
Absent the tough love of weight training, I would have been aimless and clueless and spineless. No remaining physical strength to set me in motion, no exercise identification to guide me, no assurance from past successful muscle building experience to urge me on, no reference to the pain and gain of progressive weight training to foil doubt and no deep-rooted courage and discipline -- the bi-products of iron-movement -- to put me to the test and keep me there, swiftly and eagerly. No smiles, none, no laughter.
We wrestle with distress, we wonder and assess, and we eat, sleep and play dead. New reference points, valuable experience, sharpened appreciation; I’ll grow if it doesn’t kill us. Progress is regular, improvement is timely.
“Okay. All better. Let’s rock!”
Not exactly! There are the setbacks and relapses, the crashes and miscalculations. We’re just beginning.

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 25-05-2007 14:10
A v-e-r-y (V-E-R-Y) busy day.
Moving gym today. Can't stop now. See ya.


Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 23-05-2007 16:32
Controversy of the day.
I believe God will always make a way, where there is no way.


Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 22-05-2007 16:22
Point and Shoot.
Time comes and goes, we say with cool resignation disguising disdain. Nevertheless, some things never change. Take practice shooting, for instance. What would it be in bodybuilding terms?
Chins and dips sets and reps, pump and burn. Get ready, aim carefully and fire with confidence.

Speaking of aiming and firing, here are some dopey questions to keep you from your responsibilities: Your recent-most workouts were they targets posted on a bale of hay; do you hit them regularly, or does your aim stray and you miss them altogether? I rarely score a bull’s eye, seldom fail to hit the target, but never do I miss the bale of hay.

1. Does your accuracy depend on skill, technique, steady practice or natural instinct? Do you shoot from the hip, aim carefully or fire at will?
2. Everybody has skill if they care to develop it. Skill requires practice. There are few things more striking than watching a finely honed skill in action.
3. You learn techniques from schools, books and teachers, but the best methods emerge from the inside out.
4. Nothing and no one becomes great without practice.
5. Natural instinct -- a gift -- is rare and often neglected, misused or unappreciated. It, too, must be nurtured, practiced and applied regularly.
6. Shooting from the hip can be fun on carefree days, necessary when under pressure or disastrous, if we allow it.
7. Careful aim is most reliable -- steady, focused and sure. Disciplines formed, muscles are built and power is exerted.
8. Random fire is juvenile, pointless and dangerous.

The quality of our workouts depends on numerous factors and various dynamics: sound level, people presence, equipment or lack thereof, air flow and temperature, time, mood, energy, aches, pains and parking. Some of us address and tackle these variables directly and systematically, accepting the inevitable and favorably controlling the controllable. We make the workouts work. We modify crooked circumstances to make them suitable, even advantageous.
But once in awhile we want to walk in the gym and find everything absolutely right.
Clad in your favorite T-shirt you stand at the doorway expectantly, the rubber-matted floor scattered with heavy iron and friendly faces. No pressure! It’s neither too early nor too late and time is plentiful and free of obligation. No sweat! It’s neither too hot nor too cold and the sounds are right on. No strain! Fueled and fortified, no pain or weariness burdens your bones. No doubt! The bench is waiting for action and you get a pump just loading the bar.
There have been occasions like this, you remember; they set the gold standard. The outstanding, near-perfect days offer hope as you attempt to emulate them, recall them. You believe in them. Maybe today... a 9.5 on the scale of 10... a day to last a lifetime. One exercise leads to another, each set and rep calls for more. The wild crowd inside your head roars as you complete the final rep. You glow. These workouts are made in heaven.
We grab what we can each day and make the best of it; there’s tomorrow, always tomorrow.
(Then there are those who, unburdened by or unaware of the variables effecting training and life, dance through their exercises like the foxtrot: One, two, three, push... four, five, six, pull... turn, dip and swing. Cute moves. Dancers neither hit nor miss the target, its existence no more a reality than the dance floor. They just pop like corks in bottles of cheap bubbly.)
Moving targets are hard to hit. Missing is the norm. Targets that remain the same, because of their sameness (the old garage and barbell and boom box) often blur or lose their importance. Hit or miss, who cares? And, not every day are we ready, willing and able to think seriously, focus intensely, work devotedly, play intently and aim carefully... not even in the best gym in the world. Merely taking aim before the targets of steel is worth a gold medal. Close enough, you hit the bale of hay.




Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 21-05-2007 10:51
Two ends of the same EXTREME.
These here are two sites I currently keep alternating between.

http://for-ua.com/fun/2007/05/08/204004.html

(Read the comments in this one. They are hilarious!)



http://loveeveryday.msn.com/Article.aspx?id=786


Suppose you might say I am a person with EXTREMELY wide interests.
Or else, I am EXTREMELY bored at work.

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 20-05-2007 21:02
Green, green grass of home...
Well, no more, actually. Spent the whole day today, tending to my garden AND lawn. Shoulders are bright-red from the sun burn, arms and legs are shaky and sore, hands are scratched, ancles are itchy, but the eyes are having a fest, proudly observing the results of Sunday's labour. Everything is mowed, weeded, cut, sprayed, hoed, pruned to perfection and looks immaculate.
"There always be a job for a woman, as long, as we live in the men's world", I thought, giving myself a little mental pat on the head and what you might call "sad but enigmatic" LAWNer LISA smile.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 19-05-2007 17:13
ARMour PLATED
Does not require a degree in rocket science, does it, to guess, what we’ve trained today? Yeah, those great guns got a good, ol’ fashion blasting today. Oh, and by the way, I feel much, M-U-C-H better, thank you for asking. Well, couldn’t have been helped, really, after almost twelve hours solid sleep, huge hearty pile-up style breakfast and couple of ephedrine tablets. Shush, my friends, be quite, keep shtum about it, don’t go round, pointing your accusing fingers, don’t haste to mete out judgement and try not to be shocked or disappointed. I am not a machine, only human, and I do turn to “sport’s technology”, every now and then,to give myself a boost or, simply, to get through a fourteen hour shift in the gym.

Here is tour classic arm training routine, performed today, in the sanctuary of the virtually empty gym. God bless football mad British nation and the Half Final between “Chelsea” and “ManU”.

Biceps:

Straight-bar barbell curls.
Standing preacher curls.
Seated alternate dumbbell curls.
Seated one-arm dumbbell concentration curls.
Standing cable curls.

Triceps.

Seated one-arm dumbbell extensions.
Single-dumbell French press.
Triceps’ dips.

Some people could be called a handful, fair enough. Me, I am an ARMful.


Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 18-05-2007 14:11
WHAT GOES AROUND...


This is for…

My friends, who teased me… You strengthen my resolve…The jokers, who thought I’d give up…I am still here…Those, who fell to the earth thinking THEY were the only stars above… The night sky is ablaze with lights…
The Old Man Time… I feel your hand on my shoulder each day, and it has guided me through everything: the tough, the rough, the lean and the thin...
This is for all those who believed... Five out of seven, I toil outside of society, on a fixed and lonely path. Week after week, I come full circle, back to where I started… Here… This place… Yeah, life is like that… As I sit on the edge, on the threshold, what I’ve learned is that this journey is not a straight line. And the plates on each side of me, they provide a good support. They hold me in place, like bookends around the story that is my life…
And it’s still continues… With the next chapter about to begin…

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 17-05-2007 10:41
YUMMY MUMMY.
On the way to work today, at six o'clock in the morning, could stand the hunger pangs no longer and bought four (F-O-U-R!!! !!! ) packs of "Yum-Yum"s at "TESCO express" shop cum petrol station.
It's half ten now, and two (T-W-0 !!! !!! ) of them are alredy demolished, washed down by eight cups of strongest, blackest, meanest, espresso ever (Could've added "worst I've ever tasted" and wouldn't have been wrong, but what could you expect from the vending machine generation of coffee?).
Keep nodding off at the computer key-board and have to fight irrepressable desire to lie down on the floor, right here, next to my chair and never wake up again. Where is my "DO NOT DISTURB!!1" sign, by the way?
All, just as to be expected after an improptu carb loading AND everything is under control!!!

Here is the culprit, looking gaunt (two weeks of double shifts AND sleep deprivation) and kinda crazy ( all this caffeine). There ARE situations in life, where even "Yum-Yum"s are POWERLESS!!!


Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 16-05-2007 15:07
The Evolution Theory. Survival of the Fittest.
Sitting at the reception desk for thirteen hours every day second week on the row does strange things to your mind. For a while now I couldn’t help thinking of the Theory of Evolution (out of all things, for Christ sake!). In a way I am in a unique, almost exclusive, position, where the progress and, erm…, development of the human race are concerned. For, if the old smarty-pants Charlie was right I should be able to observe one or the other, watching them, like a hawk, day after day, and 24 x 7. Or, at least, some kind of improvement should be noticeable in the species, native to gym, regarding their fitness level, muscle tone, body composition, posture awareness; coordination skills – in short, an upgrade; a step up on the ladder of human evolution. In all my time in the role of the Fitness Guru and the Apprentice of the Iron Game Lab have I detected ANY of those signs, proclaimed so convincingly (or deludedly) by Mr. Darwin?
Well, let’s examine THE Theory, incorporating the evidence at hand into it, as we go along.
Darwin's Theory of Evolution is the widely held notion that all life is related and has descended from a common ancestor. The birds and the fruits, the fishes and the flowers -- all related.
Can’t agree more. Some of the folks in my care go bananas every time they are using the facilities; some are complete nuts; others look like a dead piece of cod meat, for some inexplicable reason attached to the lat pull-down machine. And all of them would go ape sh***t, if the towels run out, or don’t give a monkey’s toss about somebody else’s training schedule and would hog their favorite X-trainer for hours at gym’s peak-time.
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Right on all counts so far. Let us move on.
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Darwin's general theory presumes the development of life from non-life and stresses a purely naturalistic (undirected) "descent with modification". That is, complex creatures evolve from more simplistic ancestors naturally over time. In a nutshell, as random genetic mutations occur within an organism's genetic code, the beneficial mutations are preserved because they aid survival -- a process known as "natural selection." These beneficial mutations passed on to the next generation. Over time, beneficial mutations accumulate and the result is an entirely different organism (not just a variation of the original, but an entirely different creature).

On this count, Your Honour, I would beg to differ. So far, I haven’t met anybody, who, in the gym environment, would do just that: evolve into complex creature from more simplistic ancestors naturally… If anything, the process is somewhat opposite. People of pretty advanced age and calling themselves highly skilled professionals, have their age reversed, turning into gurgling toddlers with no life experience, once over the gym threshold. Their brains go into “somebody’s here to look after me” mode and their idea of “survival aid” is NOT increasing RPM on the assault-style course on the bike (they would “cycle” for 15 minutes, hardly moving their legs and thumbing the latest “glossy”). This folks’ assurance of not becoming extinct is I, who would always be there for them, to hold their hand, to tell them to take it easy, to remind them to drink some water and not get dehydrated; to praise and encourage; to applause and to compliment;” to love and to cherish”(Now, that is taking it way too far, isn’t it?) To provide plasters for the body and eulogies for the soul.
As for the benefits of this “mutations”, passed on to the next generations – Heavens Forbid!!!

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Darwin's Theory of Evolution - Natural Selection
While Darwin's Theory of Evolution is a relatively young archetype; the evolutionary worldview itself is as old as antiquity. Ancient Greek philosophers such as Anaximander postulated the development of life from non-life and the evolutionary descent of man from animal. Charles Darwin simply brought something new to the old philosophy -- a plausible mechanism called "natural selection." Natural selection acts to preserve and accumulate minor advantageous genetic mutations. Suppose a member of a species developed a functional advantage (it grew wings and learned to fly). Its offspring would inherit that advantage and pass it on to their offspring. The inferior (disadvantaged) members of the same species would gradually die out, leaving only the superior (advantaged) members of the species. Natural selection is the preservation of a functional advantage that enables a species to compete better in the wild. Natural selection is the naturalistic equivalent to domestic breeding. Over the centuries, human breeders have produced dramatic changes in domestic animal populations by selecting individuals to breed. Breeders eliminate undesirable traits gradually over time. Similarly, natural selection eliminates inferior species gradually over time.

Doesn’t seem, like anything remotely reflecting modern days reality. Individuals, worth having even as domestic animals, are sparse and spare. My act of “natural selection” in almost 100% cases would be recoil with horror and to reject, reject and R-E-J-E-C-T !!! And good pedigree for breeding? Forget it! I am more likely to discover my treadmills started generating gold dust, rather than usual horrible oily fluff, under their running belts.
The last, but not least, Ladies and Gentlemen of the Jury, is Darwin’s notorious “Slowly But Surely...” principe of Evolution.
Darwin's Theory of Evolution is a slow gradual process. Darwin wrote, "…Natural selection acts only by taking advantage of slight successive variations; she can never take a great and sudden leap, but must advance by short and sure, though slow steps."

That’s it, then. That’s done it. I will never live long enough to see my life’s work validated or my sacrifices justified. As I go about my daily business of gym management, I feel more and more inclined toward a Big Bang theory. Where I would, obviously, do all the banging, and thus assure that Natural Selection gets a bit of a helping hand and is kept on the straight and narrow.
Or, come to think about it, The Creation Theory sounds, like a mighty good hypothesis. Some Superior Being experimented to His heart’s content with different human designs, and has produced The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly. By the Law of the VERY short straw I seem to be burdened with the two latter types only, never having bumped into the former.

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Human Evolution in my point of view, and from where I am sitting, is a theory in denial. With all its’ highly scientific evidence (or lack thereof) it becomes increasingly clear to an earnest seeker, whom I consider myself to be, that Human Evolution did not happen at all. If any of you find my reasoning not convincing enough or lacking any vital arguments, step into my well worn, slightly smelly, gym shoes and we’ll see, who will be having the last laugh.
Survival of the Fittest? Hah! You wait and see till I get my hands on that Mr. Bushy-Head, Beethoven wannabe, Einstein’s Relativity Theory.



Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 15-05-2007 08:05
AM to PM.
I presently seem to keep finding myself in two states. MOVING things around and pushing people in the right directions during the day in order to make sure everything is running along smoothly. Unfortunately, there is A LOT of everything going on at the moment. More, than I could bear sometimes. And it only have to be marveled at how efficient, industrious, productive, optimistic, encouraging and cheerful I am.
But comes night time and the picture of bright and composed professional is completely reversed. I sit at my kitchen table, staring blankly at the garden through glass patio door without even noticing its’ green wet and dripping beauty (it’s being raining heavily lately), and SHAKE my head in frustration and disbelieve at some people’s conduct, their character flaws, no moral obligations, lack of commitment and NO sense of duty.
Considering this two primal current occupations of mine, described above, I can’t help wondering, if it makes me the MOVER and the SHAKER of the Fitness Industry.


Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 13-05-2007 13:38
Bring the noise.
VOLUME...

This simple word means everything. Like the old school brothers,who trained set after set, or the "heavy duty" system, "one and done" disciples (Mentzers brothers, by the way, if you didn't get it). Like cranking up your 'phones till your ears ring. Like the 3000+ clean calories you toss back 24/7, 365. Like the twenty-sixth edition of your hundred page training journal, that chronicles a decade's worth of your toil. Last, but not least, like the uncontrolable flooding, the engorging of tattered muscles with oxygen and nutrient-rich fluid. This is the fabled "pump", guls and fellas. Without it, your training will be stuck on mute...Your gains a mere whisper... Your time in the gym wasted and your motivation will ebb and lie down at your feet in a battered grubby heap.

This is my mantra before today's training. The prayer I keep repeating in my mind before entering the gym. Hope, my inner voice will be loud enough for the Good Lord to hear and to provide. Miracles have been known to happened a few times before. Why not now?
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 11-05-2007 10:54
Training: Love it or Hate it

Where do we go from here? We've taken a bite out of May and the taste
is good. There's time to think and act before we devour the spring and
reach for the summer. I don't want to stuff my face with the best time
of the year and not savor the moments, anticipate them, welcome them,
delight in them, make the best of them and I dare not waste them.

You can tell when someone is over 40, 50 or 60 years old; he or she
occasionally ponders time's passing, wanting to slow it down, re-do it
or go back from whence he or she came... one's youth, 20s, 30s,
anything but old. Me? I just want to store time in a jar and release
it as I cruise along.

Let the good times roll. Train hard, eat right, be strong.

Here are a few related questions, the answers of which I need not know
-- they are directed to those who exercise regularly.

** Do you dread your training?**

I remember when I passed the point of no return. The small heap of
weights in the gym gained my attention and followed me around, a warm fluffy puppy I couldn't ignore. We played, he grew and so did I. One day, as I sought competition, I noticed my faithful pup had become a fleabag mongrel.
We played no more; we fought. Warriors refusing to lose, we respected
each other and shared the good fight. The gym floor often became the
battlefield.

** Do you love the deed?**

Not once have I not loved the idea of weightlifting. The practice
itself holds other experiences. The early attempts to move the iron
are novel and exciting, curious and mysterious and inventive.
Continued applications of force against steel yields rewards that
multiply and are most desirable. Don't you love the pump, muscular
growth and regular increases in strength, the designing of workouts,
their smooth execution and the last engaging rep?

Obstacles and plateaus be leveled by cannons; they test the body, mind
and soul. Enduring them lifts us to new levels of completeness,
physical, mental and spiritual. Who among us doesn't appreciate
endurance and its plentiful fruits?

Appreciation borders on love.

Beyond the early days of play, struggle and the horizon of plateaus,
we one day, sooner or later, come to the tantalizing engagement of
muscle and might, the tuneful rhythm of exercise and pace, the slow
release of doubt and fear and the gratefulness for one's time and
place amid the steel.

As if these delights were not enough, there are more: the comfort of
expression and freedom and the understanding born of discipline and
purpose, compromise and patience, no matter the abundance or scarcity
indwelling your bones. These joys are difficult to distinguish from
love.

** Is your exercise time an obligation, a responsibility?**

Why not? Obligation and responsibility develop strong women and men.
Strong men and women undertake obligations and responsibilities. One's
strength and health is a responsibility, a major responsibility and a
largely neglected one. Look around you and what do you see? Seven out
of ten feel neither obligated nor responsible for their strength and
health, shape or wellbeing. We all lose, we all pay and it doesn't
stop at their waistlines.

For you and for me, our exercise is an obligation, one we embrace with
open arms as it streamlines our life. And, I suspect, the iron is far
more than responsibility alone. By itself responsibility is a chore,
and chores can get old and redundant, imitated and boring and lifeless
and bitter. Our workouts must never take on the characteristics of a
chore, lest we become an image of what we do.

** Is your training a habit, a blank, going through the motions without emotion?**

Good habits are very good. In the door, to the weights, sets and reps,
sweat and strain, hi-goodbye, out the door and home. The workout
doesn't have to be a ritual, a production, a ceremony, a major
project. Just do it.

It's the emotionless blanks who need a nudge. I know people like that.
They're zombies walking heavily through the gym with their arms
extended, mouths open and their eyes like galvanized quarters. "Take
me to your exit." From the stationary bike, magazine in hand, they
make a lap around the gym floor before sitting on the leg extension
for an extended length of time thinking of cookies. If only we could
inspire them to grasp a barbell, dumbbell and pulley. They would come
alive, their vacant eyes would see and they'd grunt audibly with their once-silent open mouths.

"Nice trainers, though... clean, snappy. Cool iPod." Me, being sarcastic in the corner, huddling over pile of weights nobody else would come to claim or dare to snatch from me.

** Is your time on the gym floor recreation, playtime and talk time?**

Nothing wrong with a little fun, mixing business with pleasure and few friendly words with your buds and chums. Intermingling is healthy,supportive and fulfilling. I know some hard trainers who can carry on meaningful conversations throughout their workouts with tacit nods,grunts and a few key words.

I seldom feel alone or abandoned in the gym, amid a crowd or at the
solitary crack of dawn. I don't have much to say and I do have a lot
to do. But there are some who enter the gym, look about earnestly, as
if seeking inner training direction, and adroitly zero in on a sucker,the most likely to respond to grandiose conversation. Sports are a favorite (bearable), opposite sex is in the top five (pitiable) and F-O-O-T-B-A-L-L slither in like a venomous snake (deplorable).

Just leave the magazine in the rack and the cell phone in the
locker-room. This is a gym. Starbuck's is down the street.

That doesn't mean you can't have fun. Feel the steel.
Train hard, play hard.

** Do you skip workouts without disappointment or guilt or total
collapse?**

Did you pause to think about the answer? Or did you say with assurance (indignation, perhaps), "I don't skip workouts, Bub." The answer is usually somewhere in between. We all miss workouts. Life has a way of inconveniencing us from time to time, demanding our attention. Family, job, TV, weddings, funerals... it's always something. One postponed training session is tolerable, two is unmentionable, three threatens sudden implosion and four borders on death by firing squad; five, they seize the spouse, kids and dog, and, six, the eastern hemisphere is vaporized. No seven... no... none!

If you don't agree, I can't help you. You're doomed.

** Are those hours and days of the week with the iron a passion?**

If you don't know what passion is, go on to the next question. You
don't need passion to exercise; ordinary interest, common sense and
responsibility will do just fine. But to train vigorously, enjoy it
and develop serious muscle and might, passion is essential.

Passion is the inner fervor, the burning desire, the lust-less love,
the insatiable zeal that causes the lifter to lift beyond his limit,
to train when the castle walls are burning and to grin as the bar
bends on his back and crumbles his shoulders. The passionate trainer
never misses a workout, even when he should. One more set leads to
another, one more rep to another, and another.

Passion is one degree short of obsession. Obsession is a disease;
passion is love. Don't you love to work out? Of course you do!

** Do you train and leave it in the gym, or do you pack it up and take it with you?**

I've actually seen people leaving the gym as if nothing had happened.
They're fresh and bright and smell good. Not staggering, not red-eyed, no bruises, no gasping.

Training? I take it with me. Can't just leave it there after all that blood, sweat and tears... nobody else wants it. We're inseparable. A wise person needs good companionship, a buddy with whom he can share all things, delights, despairs, wins and losses. I guess training and the iron come 'round full circle after all the years -- follows me like a warm fluffy puppy I can't ignore. After all, we ARE responsible for the ones we've tamed. Or aren't we?



Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 11-05-2007 07:21
Motto of the day.
If in doubts - train!
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 08-05-2007 15:50
Dumbbell Home Training Routine.

If for some reason you cannot get a gym membership, then you can do the following. All the equipment that you will need is a good pair of adjustable dumbbells that can be purchased anywhere.

Triset A (Chest/Back/Abs):
Push Ups (against the wall if you cannot do them in the floor yet)
3 sets x10-12 reps (no rest)
One Arm Dumbbell Rows
3 sets x10-12 reps (no rest)
Crunches
3 sets x25-40 reps (1 minute rest)

Triset B (Delts/Biceps/Triceps):
Dumbbell Upright Rows
3 sets x10-12 reps(no rest)
Dumbbell Curls
3 sets x10-12 reps (no rest)
Overhead Triceps Extensions
3 sets x10-12 reps (1 min rest)

Triset C (Thighs/Hamstrings/Calves):
Squats
3 sets x10-12 reps (no rest)
Stiff Legged Deadlifts
3 sets x10-12 reps (no rest)
One Leg Calf Raises
3 sets x10-12 reps (1 min rest)


Note: Move to Triset B after you have completed 3 sets of Triset A. Move to Triset C after you have completed 3 sets of Triset B.


Here are the exercise descriptions:

Pushups
The first exercise is pushups. Pushups target primarily the chest. It also indirectly involves the shoulders and the triceps. The correct way to perform them is the following:

1. Place your hands directly underneath your shoulders on either the floor (or the wall).
2. Lower yourself until your chest almost touches the floor (or the wall).
3. Press your upper body back up to the starting position. (Note: If you are performing pushups using the wall, place your feet at a distance greater than your arms length when they are extended).

One Arm Dumbbell Rows
One Arm Dumbbell Rows primarily target the back muscles with a secondary emphasis on the rear deltoids. The correct way to perform them is the following:

1. Pick up the dumbbell, palm in (facing your torso), and hold it about six inches off the floor. Your torso should be bent Parallel to the floor; keep your back straight.
2. Pull the dumbbell straight up to the side of your chest, keeping your upper arm close to your side.
3. Lower the dumbbell straight down to the starting position.

Crunches
Crunches primarily target the upper abdominal muscles with a secondary emphasis on the lower abdominals. The correct way to perform them is the following:

1. Lie on the floor with the backs of your lower legs resting on top of a chair.
2. Position your body so that your thighs are at 90 degree angles to your torso.
3. With your hands behind your head or crossed at your chest, pull your torso up as far as possible.
4. Return to the starting position.
5. Don't swing your torso up and down using various muscles; instead concentrate solely on using your abdominal muscles.

Dumbbell Upright Rows
Upright Rows primarily target the side and front deltoids with a secondary emphasis on the trapezius muscles and the rear deltoids. The correct way to perform them is the following:

1. Hold a dumbbell in each hand at arm's length and resting against your upper thighs.
2. Keep the dumbbells about 10 inches (25 cm) apart and your thumbs facing each other.
3. Pull the dumbbells straight up until they're nearly even with your chin.
4. Keep your elbows out. (As you pull the dumbbells straight up, concentrate on raising the elbows up).
5. At the top position the dumbbells should be level with your ears. The elbows should be at the highest position.
6. Keep the dumbbells close to your body, and pause at the top for a second.
7. Concentrate on keeping tension on your shoulders as you lower the weights.

Dumbbell Curls
Dumbbell Curls primarily target the biceps with a secondary emphasis on the forearm muscles and the biceps brachialis. The correct way to perform them is the following:

1. Hold a dumbbell on each hand, with your palms up.
2. Stand erect with your back straight.
3. Start the exercise with the dumbbells at arm's length and resting against your upper thighs.
4. Curl the dumbbells in a semicircular motion until your forearms touch your biceps.
5. Keep your upper arms close to your sides.
6. Reverse the motion and lower to the starting position.
7. Don't move your torso back and forth to help lift the weight. This not only takes tension off the biceps, but it can also hurt your lower back.

Overhead Triceps Extensions
Overhead Triceps Extensions primarily target the triceps with a secondary emphasis on the forearm muscles. The correct way to perform them is the following:

1. Grasp a dumbbell with both hand and hold it overhead at arm's length. The dumbbell's top plate should be resting in the palms of your hands with your thumbs around the bar.
2. Stand erect.
3. Keep your upper arms close to your head.
4. Lower the dumbbell in a semicircular motion behind your head until your forearms touch your biceps.
5. Go back to the starting position and repeat.
6. Ensure that the weights in the dumbbell are properly adjusted and secured in order to avoid an accident (plates falling on your head; Ouch!)

Squats
Squats primarily target the quadriceps (thighs) with a secondary emphasis on the hamstring (back of the legs) muscles. The correct way to perform them is the following:

1. Place your heels on a two-by-four inch block (if you have balance problems, if not - just stay on the floor) with your feet hip width apart.
2. Stand erect while holding the dumbbells at your side.
3. Keep your head up, your back straight and the majority of your weight on your heels.
4. Inhale as you squat until your thighs are parallel to floor or lower. Avoid bringing your torso forward as you come down. Keep your back as straight as possible throughout the movement.
5. Your knees should be directed slightly outward in the low position.
6. Exhale as you return to the starting position.

Stiff Legged Deadlifts
Stiff Legged Deadlifts primarily target the hamstrings (back of the legs) with a secondary emphasis on the lower back muscles. The correct way to perform them is the following:

1. Stand with your feet about 16 inches (40cm) apart.
2. Stand erect while holding the dumbbells at your side.
3. Keep your head up and your back straight.
4. Slowly lower your torso as if you were to pick something up from the floor in front of you. Lower your torso until you feel a stretch in your hamstrings. No need to go all the way down.
5. Keep your knees locked, your back flat and your head up throughout the movement.
6. Use only your hamstring and back muscles to stand erect.
7. DO NOT PERFORM THIS MOVEMENT ON A JERKY MANNER AS IT CAN CAUSE A LOWER BACK INJURY IF DONE IMPROPERLY!

Dumbbell Calf Raises
Dumbbell Calf Raises primarily target the calf muscles. The correct way to perform them is the following:

1. Stand with your feet about hip width apart.
2. Stand erect while holding the dumbbells at your side.
3. Keep your head up and your back straight.
4. Stand on your toes and pause for a second at the top of the movement.
5. Slowly go back down to the starting position.
6. Concentrate on contracting your calf muscles hard. Make them burn!


Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 07-05-2007 14:21
Pie in the sky.
We are all striving for something. Everybody is out there, on the quest to get what they think will make their life complete. More money; better career prospects; job promotion; rich boy friend; flat in town; pile in the country; perfect, detergent-advert style, little family with 2.4 children; prestigious new car; designer wardrobe; diamonds; ideal body; flawless complexion, youth, beauty… you name it. On and on goes the list of unattainable dreams and impossible wishes. I am a normal person. Just a human being, a regular, plain Jane-public, who, like everybody else, does have her moments of unrealistic hopes and unfulfilled desires. But sometimes it strikes me, as odd, our constant struggle to get, to grasp, to achieve. This incessant and rather trivial (read “VULGAR”) pursuit of questionable gains and spoils. Does it really exists, this Paradise at the end of the rainbow? Will it make me truly happy, finally catching up with leprechaun and wrenching his cherished pot of gold from him? Wouldn’t it be less painful not to pull the muscles and wreck the joints trying to seize the tail of a passing blue bird and pinch a single feather out of it? I must be getting old, thinking all this, but now days it seems to me, that listening to the quiet voice of your common sense is not such a bad idea after all. And that a bird in the hand is really better, than two in the bush.

PS. Trained shoulders and calves today.

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 04-05-2007 14:30
Work and Pleasure, Duty and Joy
Yipes, Stripes! Another busy day has come to the end and the looming work out ahead is beckoning…NOT. Hmmm...do I still have strength to do it?... do I wanna go through with it?... should I? Maybe I’ll come back to it later. Another split routine, achieving muscle mass, losing bodyfat in preparation for the spring, overcoming yet another growth plateau... gag. Why can’t I just take a pill... have a treatment... hire somebody... or fugitabodit?
Yeah, yeah; I know where ya comin’ from, sports fans 'n gym rats. It’s been a long day and a long climb and what we thought was a hill has become a mountain. We do have choices. We could quit, bag it, call it a day, pack it in, throw in the towel, see ya, outta here, finito, over, done, gone. Quite a few choices, come to think of it, but none of them will do as you well know. We’re in this like pigs in swill.
In so much as this is a predicament we all share, brothers and sisters in iron, let us be tough and face the facts. (It’s that upfront spirit that separates us from the ordinary, complacent and idle). Muscle- and power-building are not easy endeavors sought by the faint of heart. Though rudimentary objectives, they are tough to achieve -- maddening is more to the point. Only hard work and perseverance accomplish the deeds.
Now hard work and perseverance are disciplines, purposeful and noble, yet discipline is not the commonest or strongest characteristic observed among the worldwide populace. People by and large deserve outstanding mention for various behaviors (consumption, opposition, impatience, urgency, snoozing, wasting, amassing, borrowing, gambling, arguing, wrecking) but not discipline, not self-control. Discipline is the radiant crown worn by only the few.
Hard work, a jewel in that crown of splendor, could use a little clarification. This is not the hard work of the 9-to-5 variety: You get up, have a cup and dash off to struggle with hammer or reports or clients or desktop and return to the house, cat, take-home and TV. This hard work begins after work, when you enter the gym and collide with the metal, battle the steel and upend the iron. It’s barbells and dumbbells, cables and machines and the one-rep-max you dare not miss. Then home, food, rest and sleep.
I might add, not everyone is clear about perseverance, either. Perseverance is not the sacrificial habit of showing up at the gym as usual, towel and water bottle in tow. “Yo, guys!” After scanning the gym floor, a set of dumbbells are set in motion until its user becomes bored or dissatisfied or sleepy or distracted... “Hi, miss... I didn’t catch your name... may I join you?”
Perseverance is standing before the racks, bars and plates assertively and engaging them with certainty and unbridled might, again and again, come rain or come shine. The exercises are fundamental and sure, their execution rhythmic and pure. The metal passes from rack to hand, from floor to ceiling; side to side and back and forth with power, focus and form. Like a tattooed longshoremen working his crane, the iron is moved from place to place. No distraction, wasted motion, no race or lost pace. Nothing stops till it stops, and starts again, on time, next time. Perseverance and hard work: They work.

Can’t talk about perseverance without talking about patience; and, we can’t talk about patience without talking about time. Furthermore, if you’re going to talk about time, remember, time is money. Additionally, we’d be wise to recall that musclebuilding is a discipline, both purposeful and noble, and anything purposeful and noble is also valuable, or more clearly, worth money. And all this time you thought you were wasting time. Nope! You were getting rich. That’s all I have to say about money. Back to time and patience.
A moment of truth. There is no swift way to build muscle and might. No shortcuts, no accelerated methods, no secret passages, no advanced technology, no power-in-a-bottle. Time and patience are the horns of the beast -- the co-conspirators, the twin forces of good and evil -- we must confront, engage and overcome -- or embrace -- lest we hang high and twist in the wind.
Time is time, neither a person, place nor thing that can be controlled. Time, a condition, is out of our hands. Conversely, patience, a discipline, can be developed like a muscle. The wise and strong develop both at the same time.
A major problem, the predecessor or offspring of the above, is we either seldom believe or do not believe strongly and for a sufficient length of time that our course of action -- our training methodology, our program, our workout and diet -- is the right one, exact, in fact. It seems like a good idea early on, but is soon reduced to another guess or reach into space where exact (AKA perfection) does not exist.
Doubt and confidence, a hilarious act, join the show dancing out-of-step and singing off-key.
Alas, there is no perfect course of action. No perfect anything. We can only aim and shoot and hope we don’t hit ourselves in the foot. Anywhere on the target is close enough. Routines that are worked hard and consistently and diets that are followed regularly are the exact ones. We fail when we doubt our plans and are tentative in our actions. Our mind and our movements are weak, withheld and not forthcoming. Speaking directly and scientifically (as I often do), we fumble, bumble, mumble and crumble.
You know the ropes. You’ve assessed yourself and acted responsibly. You’ve made commitments and kept them. You’ve listed goals and achieved them. You’re en route, on course.

Apply yourself and trust yourself.
Work intensely and be persistent. This is very good. Now then, to approach perfection, that quicksilver element of our composition, make needed adjustments along the way -- big or small. Be aware and awake and alive at the controls, tip the wings and accelerate, raise the nose and climb.
Whatever the conditions call for
Whatever you do not know and want to learn
Whatever is novel and you want to experience
Whatever you feel like
Whatever seems productive
Whatever is fun, uplifting or challenging
Whatever someone worthy suggests
Whatever you did that worked before...
Do it with attention, wonder and interest; commitment and devotion and truth.
And, whatever you do, do it with gusto and high hopes. How can you go wrong? What’s the urgency? You’re lifting, you’re learning and you’re growing in body, mind and spirit. You are consistent, you eat right and you’re smart. Not every day requires an answer or a solution. Sometimes the answers don’t come; sometimes there isn’t an answer. Sometimes the answer comes later, tomorrow, another time. Often, more often than we realize, there is no question to answer, no predicament to resolve. Only action, that speaks louder, than ANY words. Only the sky above, to fly to; and only the hero inside, to search for.


Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 02-05-2007 10:04
Miscellaneous.
My son’s take on one of my female friends: “Aspiring sexual predator with all the allure and attitude of over nourished, farm raised quadriplegic herbivore.” (A bit harsh but VERY accurate nevertheless.)



Him, again. This time on our neighbors:” Self-righteous hypocritical philistines with severe mental problems. Two unaborted victims of world’s demographical explosion. Pathetic excuses for human beings.” (Couldn’t agree more. Though sometimes even I could be appalled by the vigor of his language.)



And finally, last night in the gym. A little conversation about me. Or, rather, the part of it, which I heard and, eh…, o-b-s-e-r-v-e-d.
I am drinking my post-work out espresso, leaning on the counter and chatting to the gym owner. A Hispanic-looking girl, sitting on the sofa next to the bar, is whispering something to her Greek boy-friend and pointing shyly in my direction. He, having given me an appreciating one-over first, tells her (and the rest of the gym) at the top of his voice straight after:” But, of course, she looks flippin’ gorgeous! SHE IS A BODYBUILDER, ain’t she???!!!”
Curtain, please. (I wouldn’t mind, though, taking a few more bows in front of it's velvety stretch, blowing little kisses to applauding audience and catching an odd bouquet with a love note stashed inside.)

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 30-04-2007 11:47
BIG BROTHER syndrome.
I remember the very first time it happened. While still being pretty new to the “Harbour” site I was quietly getting on with writing my essays, minding my own business and enjoying relative privacy and anonymity, basking in the warm sea of self-assurance, that no one in their right mind would want to read abracadabra’s statements of some snobbish and self-obsessed creature. Couldn’t be more wrong, could I? Somebody would always read whatever somebody else has narrated. Whatever it is: a philosophical opus, a scandalous memoirs or a obscenities on the tiled walls of the subway. The alarm bells started ringing crazily in my head, and the panicky feeling of being “ousted” almost knocked me down for six. “Big Brother’s watching you!” the horrible thought flashed through my mind. And all it was – a little line next to the word “Commentary” underneath one of my “Harbour’s entries. “ 1 commentary,” it said. (First commentary EVER, since I started the diary, by the way. Third or fourth page, I think. ) For me, insanely private person AND a closet writer to boot at the time, it was an equivalent of privacy invasion, trespassing and violation of my human rights rolled in one (!!!!!!!). Well, that’s Internet for you, and, thanks to it, PRIVACY is not, what it used to be. It’s withering away, and we have only ourselves to blame. The ultimate secrets we used to only whisper to our closest friends are now plastered on blogs and myspace.com, paraded on youtube.com for anyone to read and watch. With the proliferation of the Internet, our capacity for embarrassment disappeared faster than Victoria Beckham’s forever shrinking frame. Look, self-revelation should have limits. Although you think you’re the most important person in your living room, we, actually, don’t need to know, that you are away from your computer to make pee-pee.
Our increasing cultural acceptance of the public inspection of our private lives has made us unconcerned about trading our privacy to illusional safety from everything in the world: terrorists, thieves, paedophiles and other assorted predators. The sad reality is, it only makes us more paranoid, and open the door to all sorts of indignities and inconveniencies: airport screening, luggage search, CCTV cameras on every corner, pole and road interjection AND invisible satellites above, in the sky.. We tolerate their mechanical eyes quite willingly, hoping against every ridiculous hope, that MAYBE they will spot that wild-eyed jihadist with a suitcase full of anthrax. (More likely, of course, that they will not.)
Sure, we want to be safe from the bad guys, but at what cost? A quote below, published by, and often attributed to, Ben Franklin says, “Those who would give up Essential Liberty, to purchase a little temporary Safety, deserve neither Liberty nor Safety.”

PS. Recently, about a month ago, there was a CCTV camera installed in the “Mirror” gym. Right above our desk. I am so used to it now I keep putting my make up on in front of it or even adjusting my bra straps without second glance in its’ ever-present direction. Welcome to Mr. G. Orwell nightmarish reality, then.

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 27-04-2007 15:22
Banalities of reality.
With age comes wisdom, harmony, peace of mind and acceptance of who you are. Would I consider swapping it all for being young, pretty AND stupid again?
This is one question I still have no answer to.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 25-04-2007 08:02
Spring or Bast...
Muscle and might, health and fitness: What do you want, what can you
expect and what are you willing to do? It's a good idea to answer
these questions before you decide your training routine. And the
answers to the three should be consistent, if you're to be consistent.
Consistency determines your success.

Scribble a few lines of common sense on a page and they look like
serious laws -- Principles of Life. Truth is, common sense is more
valuable than laws. If people applied logic, their greatest resource,
to their daily lives, there'd be no need for laws. Instead, common
sense is obscure, buried, doubted, untapped and ignored.

Muscle building and fat loss are common sense.

~ What do you want? The answer is based on your imagination, high
hopes, dreams, boldness and, lastly, intelligence. How about barn-door
lats, veins like cables, boulder thighs and horseshoe triceps for
guys, curves and leanness for the gals, and bigger, stronger and
faster for athletes?

The answers change with time and maturity. What you want now is not
what you wanted, say, eight or ten years ago.
A large number of us flying about the
friendly skies, though motivated and seeking, have rearranged our
purposes and pursuits and premises. We still want much, but less
likely arms measuring 20 inches or cuts as deep as the Rio Grande
gorge. I'll personally pass on watermelon deltoids (my eyes are on the
summer cantaloupes).

The world has gotten bigger and faster, it seems, more crowded,
confused and demanding. This questionable reality has some people
thinking there's less time to seek their fitness goals. Time and money
are borrowed and stress is overflowing. Let's be smart where we invest
our time and money, Honey.

Stop and think for a moment, if you have a moment: Never before have
fitness and the gym been more valuable. The big guns and hourglass
shape might be less important than during the summer of '99, but the
need to be healthy and strong and emotionally fit is on the rise
(there are creepy things in the shadows). Weight training accomplishes
all three, the gym is a refuge.


I glanced behind and looked ahead, and decided to do what I've always
done -- take what I can get with what I have, and what I have is
regular, ordinary common sense.

The will is there, matched with discipline and sufficient madness.
Most -- some, a few, several, one or two, barely enough -- of the
muscles remain; adequate knowledge and sufficient understanding are on
hand and I'm open to daily events -- setbacks, obstacles, the passage
of time. Come to think of it, it's been that way for the past few
decades.

Training is the same, there's nothing new. I arrange the basic
exercises like brave and dutiful soldiers on the battlefield. I modify
exercise input to match available energy and strength and ability to
recuperate. I think positively, apply myself steadily and focus like a
curious lab tech attending his microscope. I train consistently, eat
right and rest a lot. In other words, I bomb it... I bomb it good.
More laws from the department of common sense.

What can I expect? In a breath, heal the ticker, resist injury and
disease, grow muscle where possible, lose fat where possible, retain,
sustain and maintain the rest, while I have a blast and go with the
flow. Disappointment and discouragement must be fought preemptively,
subdued posthaste.

~ What can you expect? Expect much and achieve much. Expect little and
achieve little. Expect too much and be disappointed. Expect too little
and be a disappointment. Look around you with wide-open and honest
eyes. Reality is a stranger to many of us.

We're in this together, bombers, genes, structure, age, gender, gains
and losses and commonsense. Some things have changed and some things
have not.

Let me guess. A few years have gone by and left their impression, good
times, bad times and ups and downs. Training's come and gone and come
again, muscle and fat are seasonal, energy and fatigue are
distinguishable, and your health and strength are questionable. You
wear glasses now and your favorite music is older music and you look
at the world and you shake your head. What going on here? You never
looked at the world before. Too busy, till now.

Don't be dismayed with the troubling thought that it's time for some
changes -- workout and menu, purpose, direction, exertion. It's just a
troubling thought. You are permitted a grace period -- AKA a period of
denial -- as you make subtle adjustments in your subconscious and
pride, hair, dress and vehicle. Health before mass? No! Safety before
triceps extensions with a loaded Olympic bar? Nay! Fitness before
three-percent bodyfat? Not! Age before beauty? Never!

Goals not uncommon among weightlifters between the ages of 18 and 55:
huge and ripped, 400-500-pound bench press, squat or deadlift, big
arms, shoulders and back, lean abdominals, sweeping thighs and
diamond-studded calves... with health and well-being trailing behind
but catching up fast.

There comes a time when health and fitness, safety and wellbeing rise
to the surface like corks in a hot tub. Last, but not least, they pop
to the top with a hop and a lump and a limp.

You might be young and visit your gym religiously, because you appreciate what
you interpret as clear thinking and honesty, a breath of fresh air
from yesterday, today and tomorrow. You're where you belong, I
suspect. Listen and learn and grow. Your youth will grow with you,
your muscle and might.

~ What are you willing to do? How much time and work are you willing
to invest in attaining your lifting goals? Here's where consistency
comes into play. What you want, can expect and are willing to do must
be compatible.

The muscle and might goals you set might seem fair, but exceed your
potential. You can't cross the wide blue Pacific in a classic biplane.


The mind may be willing, but the body not able. There's no breaking
the sound barrier in a sporty Piper Cub.

The bigger the goal, the more it takes. You cannot expect to transport
tons of cargo in your four-passenger Cessna, Captain.

As you might have suspected, Chief, age can be a factor. The Kitty
Hawk will fly, but soaring can strain the struts.

Gliders can be fun, they say. You want a bomber, be ready, willing and
able to bomb it.

Personally, I like those nifty Beachcraft Bonanzas: sturdy, compact,
manageable, long-range, low-upkeep, neat tail arrangement.

Wrapped up in a single, commonsensical one-liner I offer a
half-a-dozen principles of training: Logically determine your
possibilities and abilities, qualities and resources and drag them to
the gym and apply them passionately and consistently. Simple, but no
one said it was easy.

The hangar is empty; the birds are in the sky. Grab a ride ...


Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 24-04-2007 16:51
Barely LEGal.
For those of you, who, by now, got the gist of the way my mind works, it is not going to be a huge mystery as to what this narration depicts. For all the others -if you’re thinking there is anything even remotely crime orientated, or imperceptibly Agatha Christie-esque in this entry – forget it. Moreover, at the risk of being disappointing and boring, I would categorically deny there is any kind of legal drama hint or ” LA Law” taste in it. I simply could not resist exhibiting my love of double-entendres one more time, even while describing something as trivial, as LEG training. We could, probably agree on one (and only) panishable offence committed : the fact, that front and back of the thigh were trained together on the same night. The sin I don’t normally succumb to. An equivalent (speaking in training terms) of eating proteins and carbohydrates TOGETHER. Guess, the temptation to give the ol’ pins a well deserved, heavy blast was too high and my power of resistance failed to match it completely.

So, here goes. Last night’s Quadriceps/Hamstring work out.

1. Lying leg curls. 4 X 15-20.
2. Seated curls. 4 X 15-20.
3. Stiff legged dead lifts. 4 X 12-15.
4. Hack squats. 4 X 15-20.
5. Lunges. 3 X 20-25.
6. Roman chair squats. 4 X max.
7. Stomach crunches/Hyperextension supersets. 3 X max.

All I could say, after such an intense (“extreme” is the word which spring to mind) session the “THIGH of relief” is in order.

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[Запись для всех] 23-04-2007 10:06
“Enlightening” Monday.
It seems to me that our world is revolving with the far greater speed, than it used to in the old days. Another week has gone by, and I have hardly noticed.
I wonder would it be still the same, if Mr. Nicholas didn’t have this nasty habit of sticking his long nose into the Divine business of Universe’ mechanics? And, surely, things would be perceptibly improved, by Senior Galileo keeping his big mouth shut and NOT going around rubbing Inquisition the wrong way up, making his hasty arrogant statements of “I am telling you - it IS spinning!!!”

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 21-04-2007 05:43
Connecting the dots...
Yeah, it’s like that…From randomness comes order. From order emerges a greater picture. As a child, I remember the game, called “Connect the dots”. You start with nothing, just a bunch of dots on the page, chaotically “organized” on the wide white spread of paper (by the way, AND in case you didn't know, these two terms are mutually illiminating). And as you start connecting them, painstakingly, one by one, wondering “WHY” in the process, thinking, could there be more stupid and pointless exercise in the world, something begins to transpire. When you’ve finished, you are rewarded with an answer, a complete and perfect image, a clear embodiment of the vague idea. For the past three months I’ve been rolling in this shadows, in anonymity… I’ve been patiently connecting each dot, waiting to see, what happen, asking myself, if it’s all worth it.
Now I know…

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 20-04-2007 06:25
General Nutrition Guide.
Good nutrition, like good training, is simple - learn the basics and practice them consistently. A little knowledge and a lot more discipline is the secret. Apply yourself diligently - look ahead, don't look back and don't look for shortcuts. There simply aren't any.

Health and fitness has climbed to the top of world's popularity list and has become big business. As you've noticed, there's a gym on every corner and a glut of diet and bodybuilding formulas to pack on muscle and burn off fat. Competition is fierce, the promises are bizarre and we're all confused, suspicious and eventually numb. We have on our hands a zillion ways to diet, feed ourselves and live our lives for fitness. Let's clear the air and put some things in order.

RULE # 1- Stay away from trans fats, excessive salt and simple sugars. This eliminates 99% of the fast foods, munchies and soft drinks. Who needs them? In a few short weeks, you won't want them, wonder why you ate them and feel sick if you do!

RULE # 2 - Eat a basic breakfast of complete carbohydrates and protein to set up your metabolism for the day and to provide fuel and muscle building ingredients. Basically, protein builds muscle and carbohydrate supplies fuel for energy. Breakfast can be an easy to prepare meal from a quality protein shake to a bowl of oatmeal, scoop of cottage cheese, fruit and coffee. Remember, if you don't feed yourself a small wholesome meal in the morning, your body will draw on your muscle tissue as a source of energy, putting you in a slump and in muscle deficit. Add a good vitamin and mineral formula each morning to put order and efficiency in your body chemistry.

RULE # 3 - With whatever effort it takes, feed yourself every 3 to 4 hours throughout the day - each meal consisting again of protein and carbohydrate. Any combination of the following is perfect: tuna/rice, lean meat/baked potato, cottage cheese and fruit, chicken/pasta, etc. (Vegetarians - take particular care in order to get plenty of protein in your diet.)

RULE # 4 - In simple English, to gain weight, eat more and eat more often. Be ready for solid bulk weight - lean muscle comes slowly but surely. To lose weight, eat less, still as often, consuming the majority of your calories early in the day.

RULE # 5 - I have always instinctively leaned toward a higher intake of protein over carbohydrate to build a lean body. Though contrary to popular opinion, many doctors and top bodybuilders I've conferred with agree. Emphasize protein.

RULE # 6 - Between meal snacking is okay if the snack is truly nutritious - no junk! Don't let them be a substitute for a meal or become a habit. Good snacks are fruits or vegetables, low fat muffins, protein energy bars, nonfat yogurt, whole wheat bagels, cottage cheese, etc.

RULE # 7 - Simple carbohydrates (sugar and honey) provide us with a quick pickup but let us down just a quickly. Excessive sugar plays havoc with our insulin metabolism and leads to fatigue and fat storage. Not good.

RULE # 8 - Fuel up before your workout. Eat a small easily digested meal 30-60 minutes before you train. With complex carbohydrates in your system, you'll train harder, longer and with more enthusiasm. You won't experience low blood sugar jitters or dizziness - you will experience a great muscle pump and probably get that last rep. After a long day's work, protein shakes and BCAAs are the kings. It's also a good time to restock your creatine stores.

RULE # 9 - Similarly, you need to eat a hearty protein meal with plenty of carbs within 60-90 minutes of completion of your workout. This is necessary to provide the muscle building materials to repair depleted tissue and begin the process of building new muscle. Hint - protein drinks work great for this. Again, restore creatine levels.

RULE #10 - The most important nutrient in your body is plain water. The quality of your tissues, their performance and their resistance to injury is absolutely dependent on the quality and quantity of the water you drink. Flood yourself throughout the day, especially during the workout.

RULE #11 - Sleep, rest and relaxation are of prime importance. It's during periods of sound sleep that our bodies recuperate and build muscle tissue.

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[Запись для всех] 19-04-2007 18:41
Yesterday outing. Trafalgar Square.





Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 18-04-2007 08:11
Colour me happy.
My son last night: ”M-a-a-a-a-m, you look as if you’ve got baby giraffe skin disease.”
Don’t ask me, what other kind of horrible illnesses his twisted sense of humour might find a perverted delight in. At least the one he invented in reference to my orange-stained hands and spotty-streaky feet and ankles (well, what did you expect after three applications of fake tan in just as many days?) is a pretense one. Still, goes to show – he IS his mother’s child. Even though I myself would've described current state of my epidermis somewhat differently. Something along the lines of "... unsuccessful attempt to camouflage a mild case of leprosy". With over-the-counter products, no doubt!
It could be safely assumed, then, that it’s probably in an act of self defense and in a bid to exercise my idea of “cover-up and tone down the tangerine disaster”, I am clad in monochrome top to toe today.

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 16-04-2007 11:49
Hey, Big Spender!!!
Bought yesterday(on "Peackocks" sale, for crying out loud!):
Stripy vest(bright green-and-lime) - one;
Combat trousers (khaki colour, lot of pockets,great belt) - one pair;
Cropped trosers (very light in weight and in colour) - one pair;
Leg warmers (I must be mad, but simply could NOT resist the lavender hue and quality of the knitting. Will, probably, look, like a reject from "Fame", but see, if I care!)

Why I've thrown so much money on the things I didn't even WANT , leave alone NEED, is beoynd me. Especially considering our currnet financial situation. Well, it wasn't that much, really. The whole lot came just under thirty pounds. And another thing. How come, being SO naughty and IRRESPONSIBLE always make me feel so GOOD?

PS. Forgot to menthion the best item: fabulous black-and-white sundress. Smocked top, spaghetti straps, huge Japanese-style black flowers on the white back ground. Could be also worn, as a skirt. It's official, then: I am the fashion icon!!!
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[Запись для всех] 13-04-2007 08:05
Blast from the ...
April has a nice ring to it, a sweet sound, chimes in a faint breeze. Girls named April are automatically cute -- cover girls, centerfolds and starlets. Warm showers from blue skies come to mind, songbirds and spring flowers, shorts and T-shirts, long days and a convertible with the top down.

April is the month of hope, the month we dream of with longing in the middle of October when the days are grey and we’re chilled to the bone... six months till April, a desperately long time.

April is here at last, a time to celebrate.

The greatest way to celebrate an occasion is to not merely recognize it, but to embrace it with wide-open arms, to perceive it in all its fullness, to hold it close and examine it, to know it before it slips away, into the past, into our memory. Stop and smell the roses, we say, before the flower and its fragrance fade in the background.

Spring is a time to rejoice. Bright, tender and fresh, the season inspires life and living, rejuvenation and accelerated growth, a renewal of the mind, a deepening of the soul. Muscleheads yell, “Let’s get huge,” while ironheads shout, “Let’s get ripped.” I nod my head knowingly and rumble, “Time to blast it.”

Remember, my dear gym bound friends, “blast it” is a relative term. Blasting it is giving it all you have (without bleeding), taking it to the edge (without slipping), letting ‘er rip (without tearing). It’s seeking a gratifying pump without exploding, and achieving a significant burn without incinerating. Too few lifters blast it. They cause an occasional pop, a weekly poof or an infrequent boom, but authentic blasting is a past thing. Which you could, if you so wish, make present. And constant. And true.

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 11-04-2007 07:43
The Art of Living. ...Thunder and Lightning, Sunshine and Rainbows...

Meat and Potatoes. Carrots and Peas. Protein and Sugar.



Do not procrastinate. Hesitate less. Be bold and daring, but not reckless.


Be grateful in all circumstances -- good and bad. They enrich and teach and are there, tightly woven in the fabric of your life.


Stop complaining. Who cares and who listens? Life’s a struggle, a good fight, a tough workout, a hard-won triumph, a precious gift.


Encourage whenever you have the opportunity. You gain more from the practice than the deserving recipient. He and she glows and you grow.


Be strong and courageous. The Bible’s big on that combination and I’ll bet Confucius, Buddha and Allah don’t oppose their merits. These are attributes that come from working hard, trying to excel, helping others, observing your surroundings, accepting losses when you’ve done your best, giving instead of taking, and other things that remove you from the center of things and put you in a humble place.


Don’t dwell on the dark side of life. It’s there with all its ugliness and cruel attendants. Keep it at a distance and counter its evil shadow by casting not a stone but the light you have inside you. You have a light, whether you know it or not. Admittedly, tossing an occasional pebble can be difficult to resist; don’t beat yourself up if one leaves your hand in a moment of frustration.


Hate is a part of life, as are injustice, disease and disrespect. Hate only briefly, and discard it by exposing it. Replace it with internal fortitude.

Stress kills. When we do good, life is simple. When we do bad, life is complicated, confusing. Funny how that works. Keep life simple, orderly and manageable. Don’t hurry. Don’t worry.


Hang in there. Remember, no matter how hard we try and how much good we do, something or someone will mess it up. Sounds cynical, I know. It’s a fact. You’ve gotta stay ahead of the curve or you’ll slip over the edge. Hold on tight.


Practice responsibility and respect, the excellent things we owe each other, brothers and sisters. Here’s a list of superior things, a bunch of Boy Scout stuff at which we scoff, that’ll embarrass today’s wiseguys: kindness, graciousness, humbleness, good cheer, generosity, care and concern, integrity, authenticity, gentleness, understanding, compassion, forbearance and chocolate. Where have they been buried, how long and why?

Above it all, smile from the inside and laugh from the heart because of the warmth and humor and delight that are almost everywhere should we look and see.


You ready for the big one? Love your neighbor as you would have him love you.

*******************************
*******************************

Tomorrow is another good day.


Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 10-04-2007 07:31
UN-holy day.
Life is a conjuror's trick. It's performed in front of the captured audience with all the skill and practice of the old circus illusionist, mockingly benign smile of the comics book "baddy" Jocker, utmost sleigh of hand, and with the "blink-and-you-miss-it" speed. Sometimes it's a miss (and some of us have, actually, lost the plot long time ago). Sometimes it's a hit(directly between the eyes). With the "Boom, goes gravity" force. Today is the end of Easter break. Back to reality, then.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 06-04-2007 00:11
Putting you in the picture.
And setting some people’s mind at rest, YouKnowWhoIamTalkingAbout, my un-trusting, sceptical and sarcastic friend. (I still love you dearly though.) No, I am NOT going back on my promise, NOT trying to weasel out of the situation, NOT looking for an excuse or a reason to make a light hearted joke out of the whole thing, or, as You so cunningly put it, “blame the cold, flue, diarrhoea, nose bleed, chicken pox, cholera, Devil knows what and His Father”, to fool everybody and leave them in bitter disappointment AND without being able to have a look at immortalized image of my heavenly flesh. I am simply trying to recover from my sick-as-a-parrot ordeal and, yes, I’ll give you that, buying myself a little time to make up for all that was lost.
Went to the gym yesterday and today and, as a convalescent patient (or, rather, recovering invalid), took it easy and did “Front-and-Back” routine. Great split, actually, even if you are not in my sorrow state, but simply trying to jazz up your training programme. And, as the work outs go, it’s quick, intensive and VERY effective.
Here is a simple example of how it might be done.

BACK of the body.

1. Calves. Standing calf raises.
2. Hamstring. Lying hamstring curls.
3. Glutes/Lower back. Hyperextension.
4. Lats. Chin ups.
5. Rear delts. Reversed flyes.
6. Triceps. Scull crushers.


FRONT of the body.

1. Shoulders. Military presses.
2. Middle deltoid. Lateral raises.
3. Chest. Incline DB flyes.
4. Biceps. Standing BB curls.
5. Quadriceps. Seated leg extensions.
6. Abdominals. Crunches.

It’s up to you, how you arrange or perform this routine. You could start from the top of the body, or from the bottom of it. You might want to execute certain amount of sets for each exercise (three for every one would be my advice); or train circuit-style, going from one exercise to the next till you’ve completed them all, having a short break(no mo, than 5 minutes) and starting again. You don’t have to use MY exercises, if you don’t like them, or they are not doing anything for you. Feel free to choose your own, or rotate them at will or, when the sense of novelty starts wearing off. It’s not the rigid structure to be followed by the letter, it’s the principal you have to understand and, hopefully, adopt. It’s all up to you, my friend, for this routine is very versatile and its’ possibilities are endless, depending on your priorities, lagging body parts, natural preferences, fitness level and temperament.

As for me, tonight I had a Full Frontal and, modesty forbids, but very soon all of you are bound to witness it too (Don't mean to be rude, but, if you are a prude, be prepared NOT to have your blushes spared.)





Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 03-04-2007 19:04
Sick and hide.
Yes, I am sick.(Though slightly better today, thank you for asking. No temperature at least.) And, as you might've already guessed, I am hiding. From everything and everybody. It's such a lovely experience, such a dear novelty feeling: staying in bed for days at the end, watching as much "Poirot", as my integrity permits, feeling sorry for myself, doing NOTHING at all, flipping the bird at the world outside and getting quite a childish satisfaction from it. And, by the way, shouldn't it be spelt "satis-F-U-C*?*!-tion"?
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[Запись для всех] 29-03-2007 09:53
Theme of the day.
Can I be bothered?


Well... Perhaps, not today.



Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 28-03-2007 14:53
Taste of my life.
“Ooooooh! You are SO toned and slim, and look at that!!! You even have a six-pack!!!” One of our female gym members, in the ladies’ changing room, observing very closely my progress of getting out of my “casuals” and into the gym uniform. Before my transformation from a person into a functioning unit is complete, I am “honored” with a few more comments on my physique, built, body fat (or relative lack of thereof), musculature, aforementioned “wash board” abdominals and a lot more of the same, all in line of:”Yeah! It’s easy for some!!!” and “Of course, some people are just SO lucky!!!” and (my personal favourite): “It is SO unfair, when somebody could HAVE IT ALL!”

Well, my dear, if you think I was born with it, and LUCK is the only thing you ever going to need to get you into my shape and condition in no time, think again. For here, below, written down in black and white, is just a glimpse of what I’ve been doing for the past three months, give or take a week or two, to achieve this object of your envy and to encourage this stream of doubtful “compliments”.

Monday. 26/03/07.

1,5 hrs walk to work.

Three classes.
1. BLT@12:00 (did it myself)
2. SPIN@13:10 (just taught it without participating).
3. AEROBICS@17:30 (jumped around with the girls, like an adolescent monkey on too much “Speed”.)

1.5 hrs walk home.

Wanted to make it the gym, but gave up half way down there, opting for an additional, 45mins, cardio session at home instead.

Food. Six egg whites, four chicken breasts, two tune stakes, three celery sticks. Water. A few double-espressos.

Tuesday. 27/03/07.

Cardio session at home, at four o’clock in the morning, before work.
Arms’ training down at my local (NOT the pub, no. “Muscle Limit Gym.”)
45mins cardio session. 45 mins walk home.

One-hour evening cardio session at home. Kept channel-hopping, flicking between “Half a ton hospital” (ITV1) and “Prof Whatshername Beauty Book”(BBC2). How VERY educational and…, erm…, inspiring! (OFF PUTTING, really, watching all this wobbling flesh, elephant-like legs, tree-trunk torsos, three-layered chins and gastric by-passes)

Food. Six egg whites, three chicken breast, three tuna steaks, three celery sticks. NO coffee (how come, I wonder?) Bottle of “Red kick” Water.

Wednesday, 28/03/07. (So far).

One-hour cardio session at 7 am in front of “This morning” on ITV1. The person responsible for invention of the daytime TV ought to be made an example out of, i.e. shot by a firing squad, and the execution should be shown on…, well…, DAYTIME TV, I guess.

Classes.

Step @t 12:00 (pounded the platform alongside four other class-mates with all the zeal of newly converted exercise addict.)

Food (so far).

Six egg whites, two chicken breasts, two celery sticks. Water. Two double-espressos.

Still to come.

Chest-and-shoulders training later in the afternoon. One hour evening cardio at home

Food still to eat.

Three chicken breasts, two celery sticks, one salmon fillet.

What would she think now, my far too outspoken and too-curious-for-her-own-good, friend? My life is right in front of you, in bits, pieces and bites, with all its' UN-various smells, bleak colours and blant tastes, arranged neatly, as an unimaginative chef might’ve done with pile of food on the platter. How would YOU feel, consuming all that day, after day, after day? Wouldn’t there be a point, you think, when you simply will not be able to get up at the crack of dawn to perform your compulsory morning cardio? Wouldn’t you feel sick, forcing dry tuna steak (no mayo!), or tasteless boiled chicken breast (fourth today!) down your throat, well knowing you’ll have to do exactly the same couple of hours later?
Do you know, what it’s like to wake up in the middle of the night, wanting to scream from unbearable pain in your calves, caused by a clenbuterol-induced muscle cramp and making you feel, that such powerful contraction is sure to rapture some layers of the muscle fibers, if not tear the calf away from the bone completely. Well, “sport technology” DOES have its’ place in my life, and, not being a hypocrite I am not going neither hide nor deny this fact. If I am unable to move after two back-to-back classes, but there is still a third one to teach in a short while, and a heavy resistance work out still to be done in the evening AND a cardio session after that, AND there are all the daily tasks to perform (food to cook, family to feed, laundry to wash, egos to squash, quarells to hash, house to clean, garden to weed, etc., etc., etc. … … I think you kinda got my drift, didn't you?), then I will turn to ephedrine without thinking twice or even looking back, over my shoulder, to see, if anybody’s watching. It’s a lot safer, than aspirin, and gives you more energy boost, than any over-the-counter crap they rave about on telly.

Well, here it is, then. My life on the plate. In all its’ digestible glory. See, if you have enough guts to stomach it. Tuck in, what are you waiting for? Bone appetite!!!

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 26-03-2007 11:01
Wind beneath my wings.
It’s whistling in my ears. It makes me squint, squeezing tears from my eyes; raffles my hair, brings colour to my cheeks and cools my skin. It forces me to keep my eyes trained on the horizon, slightly above the line, where the earth meets the sky, so all I could see are slowly moving clouds of all sizes and forms. One in particular draws my attention and strengthens my will power and determination. It shaped, as a female, slim and beautiful, toned and defined, muscular, ripped and cut. And if there is a cloud resembling stylish oak picture frame, adorned with a gold brocade ribbon, tied with a coquettish, girly bow, rest assured, my dear friend, Ms. Executive Graphic Designer (you, who provoked me, who tricked me into accepting this challenge and now gleefully rub your hands together and giggle cheekily in anticipation of my “outing”), I’ve seen it too.
The pendulum is swinging. The wind is singing a winning song. The landing strip is near. I am gaining the momentum.


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[Запись для всех] 23-03-2007 09:05
Exercise Suggestions: Top 20.
About the exercises upon which I suggest you concentrate: These are the building blocks most used by champions and children alike. They are the simple movements that involve the body’s complicated system of muscles, bones and ligaments advantageously, safely and joyously. They are the basics. They work best. The rest is up to consistent, strategic and intense performance supported, naturally, by sound nutrition.

Here’s my list, The Top 20:

1) Bench press
2) Dumbbell press, flat and incline
3) Lateral raise, sidearm, front, bentover
4) Stiffarm dumbbell pullover
5) Cable crossover
6) Pulldowns
7) Seated lat rows
8) Bentover row, one- and two-arm
9) Standing barbell curl
10) Dumbbell curls, standing, seated alternate, incline
11) Triceps pulley pushdown
12) Triceps extensions, lying and overhead
13) Dips
14) Chins
15) Squats
16) Leg extension
17) Leg curl
18) Calf raise, seated and standing
19) Deadlifts
20) Midsection, crunches and leg raise

The exercises listed above include 90 percent of the basics, though there are numerous more non-basic movements (thumbs-up curls, pullover and press, front squats) practiced to add variety and nuance. The truth is there are limitless movements when you consider grip and body-position variations, exercise finesse and the execution of personalized exercise grooves.

Of the Top 20, you can extract six or eight major moves on which to concentrate to avoid excessive instruction time and learning time and, therefore, devote more intense quality training time in the near-future workouts. This will assure greater muscle and strength response and a more solid training and musclebuilding experience.

Stick to the basic exercises that work the larger muscle groups completely and are responsible for fuller and more effective muscle growth. Exercise repetition is needed to gain the maximum an exercise has to offer. Changing exercises frequently for novelty is frivolous and defeats one’s purpose to grow in training understanding and muscle shape and muscle might. Isolated secondary exercises are important and are most beneficial at intermediate and advanced stages of training. They come just in time... later.

Your last rep of each set should be 10 or 12 and feel just right; near-perfect form and concentrated muscular action as you recognize 'muscle burn'-the sting within the muscle being worked increasing with each successive rep, a good pain, which when endured allows greater muscle overload and subsequent increased muscle adaptation. Look for the 'pump,' the full muscular feeling that is evident in immediate muscle increase during exercise as blood and water fill the muscle cells under demand of systemic support.


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[Запись для всех] 22-03-2007 14:38
BACKlog.


Or “Captain’s log. Yesterday BACK training”.

Trained calves first. Then did the BACK itself.

1. Dead lifts. 5 X 8-15.
2. Chin ups. 4 X max.
3. Seated pulley. 5 X 12-15.
4. Lat. pull down (wide grip). 5 X 12-15.
5. Narrow grip pull down. 5 X 12-15.
6. Hammer Strength seated row. 5 X 12-15.
7. Hyperextensions. 3 X 25-30.

As a result of changing in usual and rather too familiar exercise’ order, my back is aching all the way down, from the top of the traps to the erector spinae. I don’t mind this sensation of tired and tight muscles, quite the opposite: I like it. Not in a masochistic way, but with the satisfied feeling of the job well done.
After the weights - 30 mins. of cardio on the new “Arc Trainer” Superb machine, and what else could you expect from “Cybex” but the best. So impressed I was, in fact, that going to the gym this afternoon to have another hour session on it. When the mental strength weakens, and your ability to motivate yourself fails, anything goes, and every little helps.

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 21-03-2007 09:30
Catch 22.
The biggest mistake an athlete could make in the off-season is allowing themselves to get fat. More often, than not, they assume the added bulk is primary muscles, only to discover, once they diet down, that they look no different than the last time they were in shape. A worse situation is, when they diet down from an all-time high bodyweight and are horrified to see, that they are actually smaller, than they were before.. This is more common, than you think, and it happens because the ratio of muscle to fat loss, WHILE DIETING, increases dramatically, when the starting point for a diet is at a higher body fat percentage.
One basic fact about the human body is that your ability to build muscles is extremely limited when you are dieting. It’s nothing more, than rudimentary arithmetic. To lose body fat, you must be in a caloric deficit – or expend more calories, than you consume. To build lean muscle tissue, you need to be in a caloric surplus. Therefore, you should be able to see, that you can’t lose fat AND gain muscles at the same time. I don’t like speaking in absolutes, as there are always rare exceptions. For instance, beginners, or those returning to training after a long lay off, can often simultaneously gain muscles and drop fat. In the case of the beginner, it works, because the stimulus of training is such a new experience AND such a great shock to their muscular and nervous system, that the body has no choice, but to adapt somehow. In the case of the “lapsed” athlete, he or she has “muscle memory” to thank, as they are simply RE-building previously existing muscle mass. But for just about everyone else, you have to choose one OR the other. Like with anything else in life, you can’t have both.
That is why, some of my gym friends’ plans to “gain, as much weight, as I could by eating just about ANYTHING in sight, get as heavy, as I possibly could” and THEN “get on a very strict diet, start shedding body fat, getting ripped and shredded for the summer season” don’t even warrant an ironic smile from me. Well, not any more. I used to fly off the wall at the first mentioning of such a “success” tactics; used to explain to morons of all sorts, what might and WILL happen to their bodies were they to adopt this doubtful strategy; used to argue with so-called experts of all persuasions, shaking their “WABBA” or “NABBA” (“GABBA”, “BLUBBA”,… WHATEVER… WHO BLOODY CARES?) certificates at me….Well, there were the times. Now days, hearing such bull sh***t, I nod my head politely, shrug my shoulders indifferently, and, keeping a dead-pan expressions on my face, think: ”Well, mate. All you get, as a result of such a “clever” approach, will be MASS with NO CLASS.

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[Запись для всех] 18-03-2007 13:21
THIRST.
The contents of the following are not the result of an increased dose of my favourite hallucinogen on an empty stomach. Nor are they inspired by a sheer desire to show off or to impress a rare week end guest, flicking idly through the numerous on-line blogs and stumbling accidentally upon my humble narrations. Neither my vivid imagination or omnipresent creative energy are to be blamed for the slightly bizarre entry below. It is a metaphor, pure and simple. It seems, the philosophical mood of the past week still prevail over my mind, and, having nether desire, nor strength to resist its’ persistence, I am going with the flow.

I’ve been having this recurring vision… In it, there is a fish tank – it calms me. A see a small speck, floating on the water, and as I look closely, it’s me… I am atop the waves…There is water as far, as the eye can see, yet I can’t drink. Not a drop. I taste salt in my mouth. I taste the bile. The thirst is great and it hangs around my neck, like a boulder on the chain. The weight is dragging me under. I am drowning… I struggle, flail about, kick wildly… Then suddenly, I sense the familiar cold, hard hand of iron. I grab hold of it and it pulls me up to the surface.
This world is a vast, troubled sea, constantly moving, forever changing, always brewing with storms, giving birth to tsunamis and typhoons from its’ angry belly, burying ships and submarines in its’ dark, cold, merciless depth. But there is one thing (and it’s different for everybody), acting as a life belt, a safety raft, that would remain fixed, constant, stable, that will hold you on the surface and never let you drown. This iron. This calling. This thirst.

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[Запись для всех] 16-03-2007 10:44
A clean slate.
What’s the most challenging environment known to men?
A blank page.
Sometimes it’s all there is. But with a bit of lateral thinking anything is possible. I could have done, I suppose, my usual (oh, so original, I am sick of it myself) double-entendre stint and written something along the lines of “That’s why I am taking it quite literary and training my lats tonight”. Instead, I am opting to show normally hidden from the outside world tiny-teeny, sincere and earnest, part of my soul. To keep this rare (AND beautiful) spiritual mood go around I wish everybody to think long and hard before taking a writing stick into their hands and making marks on the wet clay. Life, unfortunately, is NOT a slate. You cannot wipe it clean.

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[Запись для всех] 15-03-2007 20:54
PROFITEROLES!!!
Well... Need I say more? Sh*****t happens(To YOU, mostly. And there are so many of us, who could relate to this same, sad experience). Thanks Goodness, out of three "TESCO"s chocolate profiterole desserts" I bought, only one was consumed. Not greedely and without a slightest enjoyment. Due mostly to sheer pressure of the necessity to have a carb loading day. First day of my period, hormonal storm and emotional imbalance are to blame for it. As well, as a trapped nerve in my back (bloody sciatica!), half paralized right leg as a result, and utterly miserable state of mind. How did Freddie once put it: "I'm just a poor boy. Nobody loves me"? (Just change the gender, and you'll get the picture.)
Not, that it's of any consolation, but at least I am in a good company.
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[Запись для всех] 14-03-2007 13:08
Closet thinker.
Sat on the train today and, for the want of anything better to do, tried to put together spring/summer wardrobe, mentally picking up the items from my overstuffed closet, most suitable for the latest vogue madness: eighties' revival. Have come up with the following fashion statement (and NOT such a shocking one at that):
It's VERY HARD to get enthusiastic about a trend you remember first time around.
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[Запись для всех] 13-03-2007 10:26
CHAVing a good time.
A few CHAV jokes sent to me by a friend:
_
1. What do you call a chav in a box?
Innit.

2. What do you call a chav in a filing cabinet?
Sorted



3. What do you call a chav in a box with a lock on it?
Safe.



4. What do you call an Eskimo chav?
Innuinnit.



5. Why are Chavs like slinkies?
They have no real use but it's great to watch one fall down a flight of
stairs.



6. What do you call a Chavette in a white tracksuit?
A bride.



7. You're in your car and you see a Chav on a bike, why should you try not to hit him?
It might be your bike.



8. What's the difference between a Chav and a coconut?
One's thick and hairy, the other's a coconut.



9. What's the first question at a Chav quiz night?
"What you lookin' at?"



10. How do you get 100 Chavs into a phone box?
Paint it bright yellow and stick a spoiler on it.



11. Two Chavs in a car without any music. Who's driving?
The police



12. What do you call a chav with 9 GCSE's?
A liar.



13. What do you say to a chav with a job?
"Can I have a Big Mac please?"



14. What do you say to a chav in a suit?
"Will the defendant please stand up!"



15. What do u call a knife in chaville?
Exhibit A.



16. Why is 3 chavs going over a cliff in a Nova a shame?
A Nova seats 4.



17. What do you call a 30 year old Chavette?
Granny.



18. What do you call 100 chavs at the bottom of a river?
A start.



19. How many chavs does it take to clean a floor?
None, "That's some uvver bleeders job innit."



20. Why did the chav take a shower?
He didn't mean to, he just forgot to close the Nova's window in the car wash.



21. Why did the Chav cross the road?
To start a fight with a random stranger for no reason whatsoever.



22. What do you call a Chav at college?
A cleaner.



23. A bus full of Chavs was driving through Wales. As they were
approaching Llanfgogogferrinfourasoch they started arguing about the
pronunciation of the town's name. They argued back and forth until they stopped for lunch. As they stood at the counter, one Chavasked the blonde employee, "Before we order, could you settle an argument for us?
Would you please pronounce where we are... very slowly?"

The blonde girl leaned over the counter and said:

"Burrrrrrrr-gerrrrrrr-Kiiiiing."


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[Запись для всех] 12-03-2007 11:47
It's a final chapter!!!
With only four weeks out of my “walk on the wild side” here is the game plan. Or, a scary, gruelling boot camp like routine, designed if not to kill me, then bring the final finishing touches to my appearance and make my physique to show, what it’s capable of (hopefully). In order to burn more fat and to make training as intensive, as possible, I decided to tweak and shake my work outs a bit and turn them into every day double splits. First one in the morning, consisting of an hour (or hour-and-a-half if needs must) of cardio session, interspersed with circuit style mini-work outs. I.e. 15mins of cardio plus 4 sets X 15-20 reps of each: 1. shoulder presses; 2. incline DB flyes; 3. decline press ups; 4. backward lunges.
In the evening I’ll do the usual: single muscle group plus one hour cardio, substituting X-trainer with the tread mill. And God knows I hate jogging with the passion (that’ll be with capital “P”, by the way).
As for the food and nutritional aspect of it, most of all, the carbs, I am afraid, have to go. Here is my daily menu from now on and for the next four weeks;
Meal number one: three egg whites, scrambled, cooked on the dry frying pan with no oil, celery stick.
Meal number two: same, as above.
Meal number three: chicken breast, grilled, small green salad.
Meal number four: white fish, steamed, broccoli, steamed.
Meal number five: same, as above.
Meal number six (optional): same, as above.

I processed all this in my head, while walking my usual Monday’s 7 miles to work today and thought, that with the spring fully upon us already, with all the trees covered in pink-and-white blossom, AND with all this heavy burden on my mind of turning myself into stringy, striated, wiry creature, I am fully qualified for competing under the assumed stage name of “STEEL MAGNOLIA”.
( By the way, THIS are the blooms I want on my grave, if anything, Miss DireXtor!!! AND I am NOT kidding!!!)

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[Запись для всех] 10-03-2007 10:40
Oh, boy!
Last two days of holiday. Saturday(which is today) will be spent at work ("Reuters" club), training and eating mostly. Sunday (tomorrow, obviously) - dedicated to an ungrateful and filthy task of clearing out our garden shed. Nothing, like a bit of domestic work and getting your hands dirty, to bring one from the cloud nine down to earth with a thud... Is there?
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[Запись для всех] 02-03-2007 15:32
Training According to the Masked Iron Warrior...
There comes a time in the physical development and training savvy of a dedicated lifter when he or she can enter the gym and proceed unencumbered by routine or forethought. Disciplined and ordered, practiced and attuned, he’s able to move from exercise to exercise and muscle to muscle according to urge, need and desire. What a rewarding and satisfying manner of training!

A limited number of lifters achieve this level of understanding, a handful believe they have, and fewer yet take advantage of the freestyle methodology. It requires daring, trust and willful execution.

It’s no secret that not all who enter the halls of iron and steel are distinguished for their boldness, confidence and security. You might say the development of these qualities is the primary motivator of their faithful training, and self-assurance an eventual byproduct. Training without a systematic program is like groping in the dark, shooting blind, crossing the hemispheres, territories and ranges without a guide, map or compass.

Where have they gone, the pioneers, the cowboys and adventurers?

Training without a prescribed plan also means no restrictions, no rules, no laws, no controls, no boundaries, no compulsions and no fixed ideas. Planned workouts can be rigid, constraining, uncreative, burdensome, dreary, monotonous, painful and just plain wrong.

I’d venture to say more than a fistful of bombers are capable and ready for less regimented workouts. They either don’t know it, haven’t considered it, refuse to risk it, don’t trust it or are content and safe with routine.

What appears to be a random, loose and casual training style, one that would appeal to the rebel personality often present in an iron warrior, is far more demanding and difficult upon engagement. It depends on awareness, alertness and acuity, a non-intellectual supple mind geared for maneuvering, an unhesitating forward lean in action, a reserve of physical energy and mental stamina and unquestionable motivation superceded by intense passion -- thunder and a bolt of lightening.

Instinctive training -- training according to instinct, internal knowledge -- is hardly random. Muscle groups are not worked nor exercises, sets and reps executed without a click of thought or a snap of judgment. There’s a pauseless moment when assessment and decision are made, and motion is engaged. The action is quick and seamless and the results near flawless -- believe it or not.

As you might have surmised, it’s less likely an avid weightlifter seeking records in the press or deadlift would apply this flowing training technique. It doesn’t translate well in progressive strength development where tangible numbers are sought. But where the fluid body is involved and muscle shape, size and density are the goals, the skills and mind of the artist and composer might best be applied. Less intellect, more intuition. More freedom, less pattern.

The trainer who is prepared to take the great leap of faith from the misty ledges of routine is in for a treat -- airborne freedom, a novel and alluring experience indeed. An intermediate degree in musclebuilding is sufficient. The wonder and eagerness of a child and the backbone and calluses of a rascal are the only additional requirements mandated. No nets allowed.

The most constructive time to introduce a change of routine or training style is when the gym and the weights and the attending mob -- the things and people you love most -- begin to look oddly like an old black and white movie projected in slow motion. The characters are stiff, the background is bleak, the action is cumbersome and the plot dismal.

Lights, camera and action, please, and bring up the color and sound.

Okay, fearless explorer! You’ve just stepped into the gym for your first freefall workout and your feet are stuck to the floor. Now what? This can be an impediment; the feet must move as an adventure is about to begin. Thunder and lightening, please. Either hop on the bike or hit the midsection with your favorite exercise combination. These set activities generally stand apart from the nuanced engagement of instinctive training. Execute them and appreciate their preparative worth. They serve to set your compass and release the brakes.

You’ll think and move better with the body warmed up and the mind invested. Imaginatively shake your body like a big hungry dog that has just awakened and is eyeing the gym floor. Sniff, sniff. Excuse my teaching skills, but the dog thing really works for me. Woof... woof, woof! To the dumbbell rack for a set of presses, followed by sidearm lateral raises. Looks like shoulders are one of the targeted muscles for the day. Growl... Where to next, only the shadows of the body and mind know. My tail is wagging.

I understand your reluctance to toss your body out there and allow the subconscious mind to pick up the pieces, but there’s more substance in that dreamy space than we realize or dare admit. It’s like the secret place behind closed doors where many problems are resolved and plans are devised and readied for action. The obscured room -- AKA the think tank and the halt-fault vault -- is active all day and all night. Trust it. It works.

We are wise to accept the mystery spot, take advantage of the powers of the unconscious mind, and let ’er rip. Feed the hungry receptacle positive thoughts -- like protein and nutrient-packed carbs for the muscular system -- and watch the momentum build and accomplishments pile high. Many of the greatest thinkers and seekers and achievers, past and present, have depended on this hidden mechanism for their successes. The subconscious mind well nourished is vital to our correct performance.

You kids who are yet to enjoy the benefits of injuries and rewards of amassed years must be patient. Your day will come. You can hop into intuitive training without noble constraints. I suggest you do not just stand there like Adonis or Diana... Go!

We’re a wiry and tough mob relying on wind beneath our wings, but we are also a pragmatic crew. Let’s have at least one guideline attached to our balloony fuselage to prevent us from drifting off course. We’ll plunge forward as best we can with unplanned movements in various combinations, but let’s practice each combo for three or more sound sets in some reasonable succession. It’s the only tether we need. Ah, sweet assurances.

Should you chance the freefalling workout for a day, it might lead to another and another, and a rush of fresh air might bring frolic to your flight. Soaring might replace putt-sputtering.

Go high, go swift, go sure... by God.


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[Запись для всех] 28-02-2007 13:16
"Book's still unwritten..."
Didn't have time to write ANYTHING today. Completely rushed off my feet, madly busy and, for some strange reason, absurdely and blissfully happy.
Going to leave work in a mo', get out and about and "feel the rain on my face"
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[Запись для всех] 27-02-2007 17:08
Dressed in the dark?
I am not usually in the habit of combining the clashing colours of two popular precious metals in one outfit. It would’ve never occurred to me to commit the most unforgivable fashion “faux pa” on purpose. Be it out of the sheer desire to stand out, or to outrage and provoke, or to simply look different. And if today I am wearing gold belt with the silver shoes you’d better believe it, when I say, it IS entirely by accident. Of course, the fact that the belt was already in the loops of the jeans, might’ve had something to do with it. Since it is slightly wider, than the one, originally meant for this trousers, fits veeeeeery snugly (read “impossibly tight”) into the loops, it would’ve taken at least 5 minutes of my morning “get ready for work” time to remove this item and to replace it with something slightly narrower AND matching the metallic shade of my ballerina pumps. But then, again, these are five minutes, which I could not spare (we’ll count it, as the “Factor number one”), or would’ve been late for the train otherwise. Argument, or rather, "Contra-argument number two", would have to be the one of a sentimental nature. It’s my all time favourite belt, wide, soft, made out of aged, ancient-looking leather. And with the bargain price of three pounds from Enfield Town Market Place, who in their right mind would blame me for being so ”tied up” to it ?
The "Counter-reason number three" in all this “myself-to-myself” fashion discussion must deliver the last heavy blow to this pretty pointless debate and successfully defeat the very objective of it. Nobody, even I, is going to be able to see the bloody offensive accessory. It is covered by good three inches of fine, stripy, navy-blue/oatmeal “Nichole Farhi” cashmere jersey (another great buy courtesy of “TKmax” Christmas sale), with the sage-green, knee-length parka, thrown on the top of the whole get up.
But the feeling of something not being quite right, the one akin to having tatty, greyish underwear underneath designer evening gown, was making me cast sneaky glances at my reflection in every shop window, or glass door, on the way to work. The little song I was murmuring to placate my rioting sense of style, my own rendition of “All of my favourite things” came as what will have to be accepted, as a very useful, if a bit pathetic, “Excuse number four”.

Silver foot wear
And fine golden belts
Float my boat
Like there’s nothing else.


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[Запись для всех] 26-02-2007 11:31
Burning the candle.
Can’t believe, how disciplined I am today. Everything is done according to plan, nothing is missing or unchecked on my “to do” list. Now, let me see, if I’ve forgotten anything. 7 miles walk to work – check. Breakfast – check. “Weigh in – Weigh out” competition spread sheets filled in and sent to all the participating Lloyds sites – check. The results displayed in my most beautiful calligraphy (illegible scribble – more like it) on the huge, stand-up banner downstairs – check. Morning e-mails, announcing today’s classes, sent to all the gym members – ditto. Today’s’ “Harbour” entry – in the process of being composed (And where would I be without my daily fixture of Internet schmoozing?). Everything done in a purposeful, organized way, but if I am totally frank with you, there is something slightly mechanical and suspiciously robotic in all my morning activities. I simply function today, without participating in the events, and have an acutely uncomfortable sensation of being removed from reality and detached from life, surrounding me. And if my brain is still operating, as per usual (well, just about), then, unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said about my body. Maintaining an erect trunk position seems, like an impossible chore, and a privilege of belonging to the family of upright walking primates looks more and more, like a price too high for such a doubtful pleasure. Want to get back to my primeval roots, at least for the day, and start travelling on all four. An idea of growing a long flexible tale also sounds not entirely unappealing, for it my take some work load off my arms and legs. This extremities of my body are filled with lead, and it requires a conscious and almost extreme effort to move them.
There is a reason behind the aloofness of my mind and lethargic state of the rest of me. With the “final pose down” just around the corner, I am starting to tighten up all the screws (wish me luck in not loosing any!), and with only six weeks to go till I’ll present myself, oiled and naked, to the astonished virtual audience, the sheer pressure of dieting, cardio and resistance work outs, not mentioning the mental strain, is taking it’s tall. I am now down to 75g of carbs daily, the ratio I intend to keep for another two weeks, and up to two hourly aerobic sessions a day. As for the rest of it, it’s still the same bodybuilding “Holly Trinity” – eggs, meat and fish. To say, that at the end of each day I could fully identify with the truck hit-and-run accident victim, is to say almost nothing at all.
I am crankin’ it up, fair enough, but wither I would not become all crabby and cranky (AND stay the same way), as the result of all this madness, that’s entirely different matter.
As much, as it pains me, there is no other way of doing it in this case, and if I am to see any light at the end of the miserable preparational time tunnel, the candle is to be burned from BOTH ends.
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[Запись для всех] 24-02-2007 10:28
Mission impassable.


Should’ve called it "Mission imBUSsable”, really.
It seems, that today my working partner is the Lithuanian version of Tom Cruise. He’s just as handsome and fit, as “Mission Impossible” star, AND his first name is Tom also, but that, where the similarities end. For, the Baltic pretty boy (obviously not a superhero) just texted me, that he is going to be late for work, and the message runs, as follow:
“Sorry. The bus has crashed. I’ll be as soon IMPOSSIBLE”. (!!!!!!!!!!!!)

Clearly, “Mission IMPLAUSIBLE”!!!!!!!


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[Запись для всех] 22-02-2007 11:37
Back-break Mountain.


Don’t alarm yourself over the title of today’s entry. I am not going to surprise or upset (I wish!) everybody by retiring from my head spinning, dazzling sporting career. Nor am I leaving the International Bodybuilding scene in mourning by quitting the Fitness Industry in doubtful favour of pursuing Mr. Stallone’s cliff hanging fame. I am simply trying to motivate myself well in advance and get mentally prepared for tonight’s’ work out. Knowing my twisted nature and having to get used to my slightly unorthodox sense of humour and highly original writing style (to say the least on both accounts, and you’re quite welcome to make any amount of inappropriate comments or sneering remarks, regarding any of the above “qualities”), you might want to take a wild guess and, hopefully, wouldn’t be too wrong in the estimation of the task ahead of me. Or, rather, behind. For, that is where this evening’s targeted muscle group is, and that is where the intended work load is going to. It’s the B-A-C-K training session, if you still haven’t got the clue, and here is what I am pulling down.

1. Chins. 2 sets X max.
2. Deads. 5 sets X 10-15.
3. Lat. pull downs. 5 sets X 15-20.
4. Incline T-bar rows. 4 sets X 12-15.
5. Seated rows. 4 sets X 12-15.
6. One arm DB rows. 3 sets X 10-12.
7. Hyperextensions. 3 sets X max.

PS. Each last one is the drop set, going to failure.

Just looking at all this heap of virtual and, yet unshifted, poundage makes me shiver with anticipation. But you could rest assured it’s not the sort of “warm and fuzzy” feeling associated with dedicating half an hour of the free time to your secret delight of a soothing and snug hobby. Mine is more of a stern, steely determination; the sweat, ache and pain acceptance, as a part of the job well done; and a stubborn refusal to BACK OFF.

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[Запись для всех] 20-02-2007 18:07
Get waisted!
Q: “Ever since I started dead lifting, my waist has got about an inch wider, even though I have not’ gained any body fat. I’ve reaped the benefits of the dead lifts in my back, as it’s a lot thicker, but my waist is also expanding, and this is unacceptable!”

And he’s only been lifting for about a year and a half! Kinda know how the poor sod feels though. I’ve been a bodybuilder all my conscious life, and my waist responded to the training in exactly the same way. Through all my years of pumping iron it’s gained around two-and-a-half inches in circumference, going from slender 64cm in my youth to a “round and matronly” seventy two (or four!), now I am nearing maturity. And that on a good day.
Can’t say I regret it much. Or have a just cause for bitter complaint or reason for a stress-relieving moaning session. With all due respect to waif-like creatures, gracing the cat walks and pages of glossy mags all over the place, I am not into the whole “Dita Von Tease” corset-strangling, burlesque- dancing, provocative beauty image. My goals and priorities are completely different to the bedroom seduction scene (have to admit, though, these activities do have their place in my life), and my vision of female body is somewhat dissimilar to those, proclaimed by modern vogue standards, if not entirely opposite to them. The body is the means to the end, and each one of the "upright walking species" around us serve certain purpose. Mine, the athletic type one, was meant for heavy lifting, pumping, weight shifting, resistance training, etc. And, as such, is entitled to and well deserving of its’ heavy amour of every pound of muscles on every square inch of it. Including the front and the sides of the trunk. Yes, sometimes, looking at myself in the mirror I can’t help but regret my early years of training without proper supervision, and the whole “trial and error” approach, commonly viewed as “simply the best” by my very first “training guru” in my very first gym. A word of warning to everyone, who’s dream is to “shape up”: never do those standing side bends with the heavy dumb bells. In fact, with ANY kind of dumb bells as per ce. Your obliques will respond to the poundage very quickly and will grow faster, than you could say “Lamborus Quadratus”. And you will have a hell of a time later on, trying to shift muscularly enhanced “love handles”, making you look almost grotesque in any feminine outfit – be it a pretty frock or sexy, tight, low cut, jeans. Definitely Josephine and Daphnie. NOT Sugar Kowalchik.
Mind you, with all that said and done, I am lucky enough to have a good structure, pleasing proportions and, most importantly, impressive V-taper, to be able to carry on all this additional bulk around the midsection. A considerable shoulder width I’ve been also blessed with, could’ve easily allowed me to get away with another couple of centimeters (not inches!) and still look “swell”, as they used to say in 60-s America (love this expression, by the way, hope it’ll make a come back one day).
Another thing to watch out for, while considering you midriff size, are the dead lifts. They do really thicken the waist, mainly by causing the obliques and the abs to grow. I keep saying to all my clients, and I’ll repeat it yet again – you are better off doing partial dead lifts from the knees up. The bottom half of the rep is nearly all quads, hams, glutes and erector spinae, which can be all worked in other ways. You should also be wearing a belt for both safety’s sake and to contain the abdominal wall, particularly, while lifting heavily, so you don’t blow it outwards and force it to expand over time.
Don’t forget your daily 45mins –to–an–hour cardio sessions, stay away from simple sugars, cut down the booze, do not over eat, make the posture check-ups part of your daily beauty regime( remember not to let it all hang out sitting down at your office desk, or relaxing in front of the telly), constantly remind yourself to “hold it all in”, and, “hey, presto!” – your “spilling over” days are well and truly, erm,… “packed in”. Six-packed, as the joke goes, if you are consistent and persistent.
Bear all of the above in mind, follow this very simple rules, and you should have no problems, keeping your vital statistics intact. That’s waist management for you, folks, don't waste it!

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[Запись для всех] 19-02-2007 10:47
A little less conversation...
The more I live,
The less I want to talk.
The people and conversations
Do not beckon.
With one exception, mind:
To share "wisdom" with
I choose myself...

What do you reckon?
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[Запись для всех] 16-02-2007 12:45
Makin’ change.
Remember last time you were in the supermarket, and the cashier handed you some change back? What did you do with it? I bet you simply dumped the coins into your pocket or purse, as indeed would I. We do a lot of things without thinking twice, and everywhere the change starts accumulating – in cars, coat pockets, between the sofa cushions, wherever… Why worry about couple of coins – they are not worth anything or amount to too much, right? Wrong. All this change could add up to hundreds, saving you a nice tidy sum of money. It may not happen overnight, but it will, eventually. You must have the patience to see the bigger picture, put things into perspective, step back a bit to allow for a clear view.
To make this metaphor easier to understand I am taking it onto the more familiar territory, liberally sprinkled with assorted DB-shaped pieces of iron and filled with strange people, waiting to make their change... Here, on the gym floor, I feel time unfolds in front of me. After all, time is ALL I do have…Time to do things right. Time to take my time. In here, I won’t shortchange myself by cutting corners – can’t afford to, if I am aiming to preserve and to save the hard currency - the muscle tissue. Note, that the exchange rate on it isn’t even mentioned – too high a price for some to convert six-times-a-day-meals into three daily work outs (two cardio and one resistance).
In my bank, you are not going to find attentive clerks behind the polished glass counter, and will not see the familiar bundles of rustling notes or piles of tinkling gold coins. In here any office worker would look the same – clad in gym sweats and as intent and concentrated, as Sheylok, hovering over his trunk with treasure. In here, the change we are making comes in denomination of 45s… And with every weighed pull up, every forced rep, every last set, my change jar is slowly fillin’ up.


Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 14-02-2007 15:45
Ode to a broken X-trainer.
No, not really, the elliptic motion cardio machine is not to be blamed for my foul mood. It was simply the last straw in the chain of not such happy events and assorted mishaps falling onto my head like there is a damaged horn of plenty somewhere up in the sky.
I am not getting unduly stressed out over most of them, but today I feel uncontrollable surges of anger, unexpected bouts of frustration and mad surges of rage welling inside me and threatening to spill over. And since the selection of various barbells and dumbbells always close to hand in a gym wouldn’t do good to anyone, who, in the middle of the second week of double shifts, suddenly start finding an idea of physical violence towards certain people strangely attractive, poetry (even my kind of it – DIY, weak and amateurish) looks like an infinitely preferable steam-letting option.

I am old and tired clown
Rusty sword and copper crown,
Watch the crimson light of sunset
Turn my tears into blood.

I am dancing on the wire.
I am swallowing fire.
See the magic rays of moonlight
Turn my riches into rugs.

Cries and sobbs are masked by laughter.
Painted smile and hidden pain.
Will I ever run from circus,
Happy, free and unrestrained?

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 14-02-2007 10:28
Love is in the air...

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 13-02-2007 17:44
Moral of the day:

Never go to a supermarket on the night before Valentine’s Day. You simply bound to end up exactly the way I did today: with four boxes of half price “Tesco”s blueberries and a can of whipped cream, extra thick with CORVOISIER. (VS Cognac). In my defense - I did buy a tin of tuna (in water), but not might be able to squeeze even an ounce of dry meaty flakes into my already bulging stomach.
Don’t ask me, how I feel for I am not experiencing anything remotely resembling guilt. If anything, the main sensation, caused by the mixture of forest fruits and alcohol could be expressed by a very short sentence:”Oh, how ver-r-r-y, ber-r-r-y nice!!!”

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 09-02-2007 08:20
About Us and the Things We Do...
The days, they go by. Monday will always be Monday, blue as a bruise.
Tuesday is chest-and-back day, the only way you can identify the
everyday day, give it distinction. Wednesday is the day in the middle
of the week, and the center of things is generally agreeable. Thursday
offers hope, as most of the work or school week is complete and
tomorrow is Friday. Yes! Friday is Friday, a rainbow of colors if you
plan to paint it. And where there's a rainbow there's a pot of gold --
the weekend, Saturday and Sunday.

Greet each day with a hug and a pat on the back; better yet, make that
a bear hug and a slap on the back. Recognize them or not, they are
some of the best friends you've got -- here today and gone tomorrow.

The days are separate and distinct, yet there are times when they
follow each other like soup cans on an assembly line. Hum, clink,
clink. You count the cans as they wobble by, bored and thankless. Hum,
clink, clink. Suddenly and without notice, the machinery stops and the
doors are thrown open to cold winds and the rush of traffic. Soup cans
resemble scrap metal as they pile up one on the other. Urgency fills
the air and things must be done. Catch a plane, consult a lawyer, stop
the bleeding or console the grieving. No surprise. You adapt, and, as
always, wish you'd been grateful when you had the time. Instead,
you're grateful now, the best you can do.

Exciting days, those filled with hope, inspiration and encouragement,
the days of production, enlightenment and achievement -- the winning
days -- consume us on momentous occasions and leave us spinning. Too
good to be true we forego appreciation and anticipate their end. Or,
convinced we deserve them, we bask in their glory as if they'll never
end. Hum, clink, clink... Soups on, cream of celery, your favorite.

We're learning, day by day. Thank heaven for weightlifting and
musclebuilding, we are able to make every day a special day. Once past
the front counter and dumbbell rack, we can finesse our training into
a fulfilling challenge or an engaging game; a skillful sport, an
uplifting activity or a delightful diversion. Soup-can days and days
of eruption and disruption can be transformed into entertaining,
productive and healing days.

Does you workout seep into your work day, or does your work day seep
into your workout? Do you succumb to the follies of life, or do they
become dust under your strong, lengthy strides? Are you hampered by
momentary intrusions, halted by daily obstacles or propelled by the
power of a vigorous spirit, mind and body?

Where your have control, take control: Exercise and eat right!
Training rules and you're the law. It's the stabilizer when your
foothold slips, the fortifier when plans are laid waste, the friend
you know amid strangers, the oxygen and fruit of life in a barren
place. Exercise and fitness are not options. They're essentials.

Hard to recognize and easy to forget, it's your training and the
things it affords that keep you standing when others fall, pressing on
when others retreat and smiling when others sneer.

We hear it all the time: I don't have time to go to the gym... the
kids, the job, the man. I know; it's tough. We grow weary and hope
wavers, our bones ache and time scatters, the barbells are heavy and
stuck to the floor.

Poor baby! Give up. What's the use? Get a plasma and recall the good
old days during halftime and station breaks. Sweetie... what's in the
fridge?

You don't lose your health and strength; you throw it away. You don't
get out of condition; you're tossed out for lack of participation.
Fitness is not lost; it's squandered like thankless treasure. Your
muscles don't get soft; they evacuate. Strength moves out when your
stomach moves in and stamina checks out while you're sleeping... on
the couch in the middle of the day.

Sorry! You've been deserted.

No man is an island, though I sometimes see myself as a weed patch
adrift in the swamp of life.

It is with this lighthearted attitude I proceed day by day, noble in
purpose and gallant in pursuit. I'm alert (whazat?), always aware of
my surroundings (where the heck am I?) and observe my neighbor without
judgment (whatta dope!). I gather understanding from experience (a bum
pushing a shopping cart along the streets) and learn through my
mistakes (workin' feverishly on my doctorate).

Independent, unfettered, untroubled and free, that's me. I obey the
law most of the time because most laws are good most of the time.
Where there is law there is order, where there is order we prevail and
where there is chaos we fail. I watch, I see, I glean and I apply. I
avoid convention and the way of the masses, unless, of course, they
work. Too often they are too ordinary to be worthy, round pegs for
round holes, square pegs for square holes and so on. Not for this
mutt.

I derived this sense of direction from my mom and dad, good people,
who put a roof over my head and pointed me forward. Now this is not
the worst method to prepare a kid for the future. Thanks, Ma. To spoil
and offer no direction is by far the most frightening tactic of all.
The Have iPod, Will Travel generation causes me to wonder, doubt and
lose my breath.

Life is serious and we're on the line and the enemy surrounds us;
projectiles fly, the bandits want our things and the ERs are full;
kids are without heroes and heroes are without kids; the wrongs pile
up on the backs of the weak and downtrodden; the rich get richer and
leaders speak with forked tongues, or are misunderstood.

Ah, but the gym with its metal and geometry -- circles, arcs, straight
lines and angles -- and pure sounds, like crash, squeak, clank and
thud. The gym offers force and pain and relief. It provides challenge
and struggle and satisfaction. Stress doesn't have a chance; like
weeds it's pulled and burned for fuel.

Athletes, wiseguys, cool dudes and sweethearts of every age gather
around piles of dead weight to be taunted and proven, purified and
invigorated, strengthened and liberated. No one loses, everyone gains.

Problems are poured into vats of toil beneath the heat of presses,
deadlifts and squats. The smell of evaporating woe is invigorating,
intoxicating. The occasional groan you hear, honest and provoking, is
a song of delight, an ode to desire, a one-syllable poem filling the
air. All else is silence or rock 'n roll.

Does your airplane have a propeller or a jet engine or do you just
glide? I'm trying a big spring wound up tight and attached to what
looks like a big fan located behind the cockpit. Exciting! Rubber
bands don't work, incidentally. Big flop!

Fly high with all your might.

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 07-02-2007 15:26
GENDER-BENDER.
Got an e-mail from an old friend today. Opened my inbox first thing in the morning (half six), well before opening my eyes properly (would never happen at this ungodly hour, anyway, even after my first, pure gasoline strength double espresso of the day).
While I was staring and blinking at the short message on the screen, an inquisitive member peered over my shoulder and asked:” Who is it from?” (A clear disadvantage of not having a secluded office and working in such a sociable environment, as a fitness centre, where members of the gym feel, that they owe you, body and soul, and it is their birthright to stick their noses into all of your private affair.)
“Oh, a very old friend I haven’t heard from for a while is asking how I am and wants us to keep in touch.”
“An old lover, you mean?”
“No, not at all. He is gay.” (Complete and absolute truth, by the way.)
“There you go, then. An old gay-lover.”
“But, of course. Knowing me, you wouldn’t suggest even for a single moment, that I could allow such a small thing to get on the way, would you?”

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 06-02-2007 16:39
ARMageddon.
There is always first time for anything in life: first love, first kiss, first cream cake (show me anybody, please, who wouldn’t swear it’s also an absolutely last one EVER!); first gym; first dumb bell picked up from the floor; first pump; first visibly noticeable muscle growth; first protein shake (mine was quiet thin and lumpy, made with the aid of then state of the art kitchen utensil – manually operated mixer cum blender), first “proper”, “big”, “real”, “bodybuilding” show (Ha! More like a local power lifting competition with an amature bikini contest, thrown in for a good measure); first…,..., oh, OK, you could tell me to shut up right now, for, having fastened upon my favourite subject, I could go for miles (“if you know, what I mean”).
Well, it’s all very plesant, talking about good stuff (cream cakes and sugary pastries included), but Nature’s law of Balance being still firmly in place, we can’t avoid mentioning the “bad” and “the ugly”. Sweat, pain and injuries. Just to put your mind at rest and get the topic of odours and, erm,… fragrances out of the way, I will confess once and for all – I hate smelly people. When you blessed with a very sensitive nose, my kind of job is, probably, not the most ideal in the world, and one could only wonder sometimes, how come I don’t spend my days with the face covered by industrial strength respirator and haven’t still banned all the perspiring and glistening culprits(yuk!) from the gym and into the Harley Street beauty clinic to have their sweat glands taken care off (In this case botox AND violence ARE the answers, and I wouldn’t hesitate using all my power of persuasion. Read “cruel physical force” and “home made narcoses”.)

OK, I am glad it’s off our collective chest now. As far, as the other two are concerned, I’ve been lucky and stayed relatively pain-less and injury free for most of my “mad-gym-fanatic-fitness-junkie” career. That was the case up until last night, when for the first time in my life I understood, what it is really like, to train through the injury. It was a faint ache at first, a slightly uncomfortable feeling of "twinging" in the inner side of my elbow joint, which didn’t bother me much to begin with, till, after the two initial warm-up sets it developed into the excruciating, agonizingly sharp pulses of pain, which would shoot down my arm with each rep. Thankfully, two tablets of aspirin taken before the training session and the elbow support worn quarter of an hour into it, saw me through forty five minutes of each biceps and triceps work outs. Was also forced to use light-to medium weights (my preferred range, anyway); had to stick to the strictest form possible (“up” for two counts, “down” for four, and don’t I always) and to avoid any kind of exercise, involving physical elbow isolation, i.e. “preacher bench curls” or “reversed machine curls”. With all this harrowing limitations and irritating obstacles, I was surprised to still get a hell of a pump and see the sleeves of gym sweats tightening and straining across the peaks of my bi-headed pet-monsters.
Never one to take things at their face value I am a firm believer in checking any conventional wisdom, however great, by giving it a thorough test-drive around the block. Three times at least. Or, to be more precise, three sets for each exercise, if it makes any sense to you. Though it was a very unpleasant “brief encounter” with sado-maso style training, I now have it on the best authority (MINE, as some of you would, probably, guess), that one of the Iron World’s greatest was right (and thanks for that, Mr. Lee Haney, by the way):” STIMULATE. Do NOT annihilate”.



Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 06-02-2007 07:09
Motto of the day.
Be, who you are, and say, what you feel, because those, who mind, don't matter and those, who matter, don't mind.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 02-02-2007 07:57
Food for thought.
"If you were a food left-over in the fridge, what would you be?" (Question, offered to an air line job applicant).
Spent half a night yesterday, trying to imaging myself in the role of a fossilized lemon or bone-dry piece of cheese, all moldy, fluffy, curled up and left for dead in the remote corner of refrigerator. With all my power of imagination couldn't come up with anything. Could it be, 'cos I've never viewed myself, as a "left over"?

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 01-02-2007 10:21
THIGHS - matter!!!
For it said in the Bible:” Thou shall not do the cardio on the day of the leg training. And he, who disobeys, will burn in Hell.”
Being me (feel completely free to interpreter “me” as “greedy”), I conveniently managed to ignore the most important commandment of bodybuilding’s Holly Scripture and in true fashion of that stubborn animal, belonging to Mr. Buridan, did both, cardio AND resistance, yesterday. Needless to say, that today I could hardly lift my legs up, left alone the intended routine morning stroll 7 miles long.
The positive thing is though, that the Bible’s and Aristotle ancient word of wisdom is confirmed once more, even if I did it in slightly unorthodox, eccentrically original, “my way”, as per usual. The paradox of Buridian Ass states, that an entirely rational creature placed exactly in the middle between two stacks of hay of equal size and quality, will starve since it cannot make any rational decision to start eating one rather than the other.
See what I mean? My situation exactly. Two perfectly good types of work outs with yours, truly, perfectly positioned to grab them both. The result? Turn back to the holly pages, if you haven’t got decent enough brain size to make a deduction yourself.
The all too predictable outcome of my yesterday’s stupid conduct is – today I could hardly move and, very probably, will perish long before the day is over. Not from the excessive hesitation, you understand, for if my personality has got anything in abundance, it will be the opposite – oodles of spontaneity and fountains of initiative. I would never ponder a decision of eating one thing or another for more, than a minute. I would stuff my mouth with one, while holding on to the other with the free hand. No, my sad decline will be due to the simple fact of the lower limbs total immobility and therefore my inability to drag the rest of the body towards ANY kind of "feeding station". Thinking of printing out this tragic narration, sticking it into the plastic water bottle and chucking this doubtful rescue device out of the window, straight into the “Lloyds” car park. Hopefully, there are no sharks swimming around the Cockfosters High Street to swallow it, and some kind hand will pick up my bottle and even be good enough to climb to the fourth floor of the "Holbrook House" with the bowl of grilled turkey breast and a sweet potatoe (medium size, baked, please.)

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[Запись для всех] 30-01-2007 13:20
Gym floor "poetry".
Gym is buzzy.
Life is busy.
Why my mind is
SO uneasy?

Art attack "Blue Peter" style. An unexpected "cheer up!" gift from Israel.


Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 26-01-2007 11:49
Health and Strength and the Joys of Living.
Today I am reminded why I don't take voluntary layoffs. They are
forced upon me like poison when I least expect them.

As the year rolled to an end, I promised -- threatened -- I'd take a
week from my training to allow the body's systems to rest and repair.
I had the telltale signs. The joints were glowing, the central nervous
system was shorting out, the heart was racing, the digestive system
was rebelling, the muscles were aching, the spirits were sinking and
the mind was numb. No pump, no burn, no drive.

The real problem: no courage. Laying off the iron is like leaping off
a cliff.

Where do we go from here is the question, this, the third week of the
month.

We are, as are so many of us from hemisphere to hemisphere, on the
one-step-back lilt in our two-steps-forward progression of our
travels. Those who are keen enough to observe life's peculiar
mechanics recognize the transitory placement and move on. Better days
are ahead. We do our best day by day. This is the day at hand, thank
God.

Those who do not notice and accept, worry and regress. It's hard not
to fret when looking up from a step down. I don't mean to sound cute
or perplexing, but too often worry drains and enflames us. Be
thoughtful and cautious, but not worrisome and doubtful. Letting
things happen is not letting things go awry; it's not abandoning or
neglecting that which is important. It's simply letting life take its
natural course for a few wild and crazy moments while we trust, have
faith and don't doubt. Try it. I dare you.

More irony. I line up my ducks, cover my bases, have contingency plans
A and B precisely in place, and make my bold move. Swell. Everything
falls apart, especially me. Then, one fine day, everything falls
apart, except moi. I get sick, injured, threatened and disorganized --
no workouts, bub -- and I can't or don't have time to worry or fret,
and life goes on, moment by moment, as it was meant to go on.

It is written that man is not to worry. Be aware, considerate and
attentive, yes, but do not worry. It's a sin. Dang, that's a hard one.
I have less trouble with do not steal, or do not murder, or do not
drink soda pop.

Listen: Do our best is the best we can do. That includes no
low-flying rollovers along crowded boulevards, no dive-bombing above
school zones and no rip-soaring within 25 feet of the earth's
populated surfaces. Keep windshields clean, gas caps secure and
tighten ailerons sufficiently.

Oh, and one minor qualifier before closing up shop: Amid our weekly
conversations which are intended to share, inform and encourage (as
opposed to divide, confuse and defeat), I think it's important and
balanced to occasionally attend the less-than-bright-side of life.
When I do, a few people suspect I'm falling apart and letting go,
slipping over the edge and taking the plunge.

"She's losing it," they say.

Truth is, I'm trying to find it.

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 24-01-2007 15:30
So far, so good.
A chance word with one of the residents on my “buddies’ list” about “getting ready to your April final pose-down” got me thinking: how AM I doing? No, REALLY. If it was a proper contest, a real-life, “put your bikini on, get oiled and pumped up”, bad-ass, scary looking girls (some of them even freshly shaved) trying to our mass each other, big-time bodybuilding show, where would I be now, ten weeks out of my D-date?

You know what? It’s ain’t half too bad, if the truth to be told. Apart from a few insignificant hiccups and even fewer manor fall backs (Christmas, New Year, a short bout of cold, etc) I am right, where, say, Linda Murray or Orixen Yaxeni might've find themselves, were they lucky enough (ha!) to be in my training shoes. In short – right on schedule and if not exactly balls-to-the-wall motivated and raring to go, then, at least, still focused, still training hard and eating clean, as planned, and, best of all (worst of the lot, actually, but you didn’t hear me say it) doing blasted cardio twice a day for one hour in total, 6 days a week. First session at the crack of dawn, sometimes at four in the morning, when the only crack you could here would be my joints cricking in protest; and the second one in the pitch-black darkness of night, after weight-training work out and just before (or long past it) bed time, on my pet X-trainer with only “Sex and the City” or “Friends” DVD for company. Eating-wise it hasn’t been much more entertaining either: six meals a day with four portions of protein (eggs, chicken, cottage cheese and fish) and two portions of carbs (oat meal and sweet potatoes, invariably). Throw in an occasional feast of a cheat meal, when I feeling low on energy, or too tired or run down altogether and there you have it – a complete picture of my less than exiting life for the past month, AND for the two more of the same to come. It’s a tedious, monotonous existence, but it’s the only way I could accomplish, what I, probably unwisely, set up to do a few months back. I know, I am on the right track, in the right frame of mind, and, having been down that road before don't doubt even for a single second my ability to stay in the zone till it’s all over and to complete the journey.


**************************************************
******

Unrelated to everything of the above. Our maintanance company's engineer, Dan, just asked me out. He is coming to "Mirror" gym tomorrow to fix a broken X-trainer and called to ask, if I would be there and when is my lunch break, so he and I could "enjoy a cup of coffee together." First of all, I am absurdly flattered and even slightly thrilled with my still existing pulling power.(Dan is VERY good looking and VERY, and I mean V-E-R-Y intelligent.) But as exiting as this whole development is, there is also a "second" - he is black; and a "third" - I've got certain boundaries and reservations.

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 22-01-2007 15:11
PUSH. Gently does NOT.
Here's how it will begin...

It all begins with a simple push – a swift kick in the ass and we’re out on our own, kicking and screaming. But it doesn’t stop there. Later, we’ll be pushed around, pushed down – with fists and with words… "You won’t amount to much. You’re wasting your time. Don’t be different – just fit in"... Yeah, the world is going to tell us, who we ought to be, never stopping to ask, who we actually are.

WHO ARE WE?

And this is, how it will end…


We are the misfits and the dreamers. Though I am still twelve weeks out, for the past four, I’ve been pushing too. Pushing myself to the limit. Pushing off complacency. Pushing through hurdles, smashing through walls. Pushing back at all those in my life, who said I’d fail (myself included). For, when push comes to shove, you got to listen to your own voice… And if anyone tells you different, show them, where to shove it.

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 22-01-2007 10:34
PERIOD drama.
Period's over. Period.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 19-01-2007 13:24
Winter Workouts -- Soup's On
January is not exactly hanging around gathering dust. No cobwebs in
the 31-day stretch, as we note we're already past the halfway mark and
the days are getting longer. Reluctant to welcome another year, many
of us poked cautiously at its edges -- will it be better, will it be
bitter, shall we commit, what's our strategy? And, then, oh, no, here
we go again. The days, like cars of a freight train, are rumbling by.

Big plans or no plans, we cannot ignore the first month of the year,
as if it were a pause for contemplation or a moment to reflect. Jump
right in; be strong and courageous, hopeful and alert. Hesitation is
behind us, bombers. Hesitation is doubt; doubt is absence of trust,
and where no trust exists there is fear. Fear paralyzes.

Many of us never skipped a beat, the heavy metal accompanying us like
a faithful dog (or a monkey on our back) from December, across the
imaginary timeline and into January. Some of us -- the noble -- are
content to be back in our comforting refuge after an obligatory
respite, our generous contribution to seasonal family joys and
responsibilities. Others read these words and bear a sharp pain, the
distressing sting that attends procrastination, neglect and guilt. The
gym and the shifting of weights and the thud of heavy metal are a
fading memory and their minds, having exhausted the usual excuses, are
groping for relief, ways to reinstall their workouts and catch up.

Each day is a starting-line, and not of the variety that suggests a
do-or-die, all-or-nothing and win-or-lose race to the end. We take our
mark with purpose and charge, and we're off, no contest, no records,
no spectators or fans. We push and pull and pile, toil and smile. We
acknowledge our achievement with humility, make fitting assessments
and prepare to do it again. Tomorrow is another day, another
starting-line.

This might not be the approach of champions, but it steadily engages
us and readies us for bigger and better days ahead. Anything more is
greedy, unrealistic, time consuming, disappointing and mind-, back-
and spirit-breaking and dumb. That doesn't mean we won't slavishly
tread the seldom traveled road, none of us having achieved a prize for
brains during our musclebuilding antics.

Whoever we are, whatever the time of year and if we are yet with
breath, we are always seeking more effective and interesting training
methods. We know muscle develops slowly and strength builds gradually,
and we've exhausted every training routine since the days of Sandow.
Doesn't matter; like desperate lost souls in the desert we search for
water. We say to one another in parched voices, "There's water in them
thar sand dunes, cool, clear water." Funny thing… we believe it.

Why not?

Having convinced you there's hope, here's my new plan, which is in
fact an old plan. Truth is any plan, if you haven't practiced it in a
long time and it isn't an outright bad plan, is probably a good plan.
The only requirements are you execute it with form, focus, intensity,
assurance and continuity. Here's where many of us fall off the
platform; the requirements are barely understood, partially applied or
quickly ignored, and the resulting lack of success convinces us the
routine is a failure.

The routine never had a chance. It was abandoned before it was
sufficiently engaged.

Ah, yes, the plan: What is the plan?

The plan involves a pause for assessment and evaluation. Don't give me
that long puss, that bored sigh, that impatient glare. This is not an
intellectual exercise, a waste of time for the robust lifter of iron.
Stop, look and listen, Bucko. Brief pauses to observe ourselves and
our actions are hugely insightful, widely encouraged and universally
neglected. Confront yourself with a few friendly inquiries.

Don't run off, scoff or hide. Intense lifters do this regularly; not
idiotic Qs like who am I, what am I doing here, am I crazy? -- but
introspective reflections with attention toward exercise and workouts,
whole-body and bodypart development, muscle density and muscle tone,
bodyweight and bodyfat, undertraining and overtraining, diet and
nutrition, mood and attitude, purpose and motivation. Sounds profound
and looks complicated, but review is simple and natural in process.

I've painstakingly prepared the following incomplete, inarticulate and
incomprehensible review list littered with meddlesome commentaries and
daydreams. If you have your wits about you, you can do the
contemplative deed as you sit poised at the end of the bench press
between sets.

>>How's it goin'? Or to be more specific, how's your weight training
progressing? Is it on hold, ice cold, cool, lukewarm, very warm or
hot? Yeah, I know -- sounds like soup.

I like soup. Soup must be chunky and thick with lotsa meat and
vegetables, and is best served between very warm and hot. When it's
hot you need to sip it carefully to enjoy its wholesome full flavor.
You can eat very warm soup with gusto to your filling -- most
beneficial and rewarding. Lukewarm servings do not satisfy the palate
and are soon discarded. What a waste.

I also like stews, which are heartier than soups. I seldom eat
desserts. Who needs them when there's piping hot soups and stews?

>>Are you enjoying your training or is it distressing? Is it an
obligation, or a desirable pursuit? Is it fun, like a hobby, sport or
recreation, or is it hard work, toil and trouble, like stacking
cinderblocks or digging ditches. I know; it's sort of a combination of
all the above.

There are times when weight training is indescribably delicious and
times when it is life-saving. There are those workouts that lift you
up and those that beat you down. Some are just a plain nuisance. I
wanna go home. You ever notice how, after a few days from the
loathsome gym, you become irritable and unlivable and dangerous and
you'd do anything for an annoying, troublesome, fabulous workout in
your beloved refuge? Yeah, me too!

>>Do you consider quitting the noble activity of weight training on
occasion, giving up on muscle and might, tossing strength and health,
chucking the iron in a scrap heap? I see. Let me put it another way,
do you think of resuming your lifting in the near future?

Quitting is so final. It's also so tragic. Quitting, even an extended
layoff, is like close to dying while still breathing. You can't quit.
What about your kids, your mom and dad, your country? Your heart and
lungs and hormonal system, muscle tone and bench press... the vein
across the lower biceps. Steve Reeves never quit... Zabo ain't
quittin'... have you tried supersets... slumpbusters... chanting?

>>Are you stuck in a rut, experiencing a plateau in strength,
concerned with overtraining? Have your workouts become dull and
lifeless, and in need of amping, ramping and revamping?

If this is your conclusion, could it be the problem is not the workout
but your attitude? A bright and hopeful and energized state of mind
can often transform an apparently fruitless and lifeless workout into
an inspiring mountain-mover where two steps forward are followed by
three steps upward and another one onward, and again and again to the
top. Imagine the view at the mountain top, sense the fulfillment of
the steep slopes hiked and every crack and ravine crossed. We reach
the top one workout at a time. Nothing dull about cliffs and crevices
unless you stare at them only... not confronting them... not knowing
what lies beyond.

>>When did you change your workout last? Are you one of those
impetuous lifters who changes his routine with his moods or muscle-Ts,
or do you wait till it grows fangs before retiring it to its cage?
Training methods need alteration periodically, but not momentarily.

Frequent routine changes can interrupt muscle overload, interfere with
rhythmic training flow and muscle-exercise understanding, inhibit
discipline and persistence and cause confusion and disorder. Think
about it.

And, then, we get bogged down with routine: bored with exercise
sameness and discouraged with diminishing muscle response. Our muscles
become accustomed to the same overload and, thus, refuse to respond to
that overload -- the same resistance direction, the same groove, the
same joints and ligaments, the same weights, the same pastel,
miserable world and I'M GOING TO SCREAM. Easy, big fella! Some call
these slumps, sticking points or plateaus. Others call them torture,
twisted and the end of the line. I call them cowards. Change your
routine and press on.

>>Are you aiming to lose weight or gain weight or remain at your
current bodyweight? Do you follow a smart muscle- and health-building
diet? Do you eat too much, too often or too little, too late? How's
your protein, carb and fat intake? How are your EFAs... no, I'm not
being fresh, ma'am.

The time has come for all of us to turn off our lights and go
to sleep -- unless, of course, you're at work reviewing this
newsletter, in which case you should stealthily log off and get back
to work.

He who flies high and long has achieved his destination -- flying high
and long. He also has achieved a larger-than-average fuel bill. No
matter, we're rich.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 16-01-2007 16:15
Total eclipse of the heart.

And judging by the state of mind I am currently in, the same cosmic cataclysm has affected my brain as well. I don’t know what supposedly happen, when the super nova is born in the depth of the Galaxy, but having a major astronomical catastrophe inside your head is not a thing I would wish even on my worst enemy.
To cut back to the chase, at present I find myself aimlessly floating around in the zero gravity space, clueless, out of my depth and in urgent need of direction (sounds like your field of expertise, Ms. DireXtor, is it not?) Everything is a little hazy and fuzzy (a lot, actually) at the moment. There is no order in my world any more, I don’t feel in charge or in command of anything, keep getting an acute sensation of events spiraling out of control and have a nasty feeling of being sucked into a huge scary black hole. My Universe is in the state of pre-God chaos and the leverage I once possessed is mine no longer. Suspended animation in it’s purest AND worst possible form, if I ever saw one. Even a headless chicken's demented run is infinitely more preferable, for it at least get around, the little slain birdie, before becoming a soup, or a major item on the menu of a starved, pre-contest bodybuilder. I, in the deepest contrast, deprived even of that small luxury - being free for the last time in life.
Funnily enough, the only consolation I could find so far was in the words of an imaginary being, omnipotent principal of Hogwarts School of Magic (oh, and Mr. Harry Potter’s favourite teacher, of course), a silver bearded sorcerer Dumbledore:

“Happiness is possible even in the darkest of times. The only thing you have to do is to look for the light.”

Simple isn’t it? A brilliant, truly magical consept. If only I knew, where that light switch was. But if you here any time soon a deafening noise, loud rustling or crackling, coming from somewhere above your head, don’t look up in alarm, expecting a thunder storm and a bolt of lightning. Even more so, I wouldn’t advise you to start groping exitedly for your camcorder in hope of spotting a UFO in the Sky and making that historical footage. It wouldn’t be either. The phenomenon’s explanation would be a far more complex, if not a slightly bizarre one. It would mean I’ve managed to discover the stubborn electrical device, all the balls in the bearings set into motion, the heavenly machinery is in action again, and the axel of my inner planet is grindingly and grudgingly aligning itself, ready to turn M-microcosm toward the source of eternal Solar power.

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 12-01-2007 17:49
Strictly GYM FLOOR.
Two good routines to alternate on the daily basis. 2 + 1 split works out the best for this kind of muscle/exercise grouping, I've found. Good for the kick-start of New Year and for keeping those resolutions alive (for another two wekks, at least, ha-ha!)


Programme One.

Crunches and leg raises (2 sets x maximum reps, 15 to 20)

30-degree incline dumbbell press (2-4 sets x 8 reps)

Close-grip pulldown (2-4 sets x 8 reps)

Sidearm lateral raises (2-4 sets x 8 reps)

One-arm dumbbell row (2-4 sets x 8 reps)

Machine dips (2-4 sets x 8 reps)


Programme Two.

Stiff-leg deadlift and rope tucks (2 sets x 10-12 reps)

Leg press (3 x 10-15 reps)

Calf raises (3 x 12-15 reps)

Standing barbell curl (4 sets x 8 reps)

Pulley pushdowns (4 sets x 8 reps)

Aerobic exercise (walking, jogging, cycling, jumping rope) is not a
bad idea three to four days a week for 15 to 20 minutes when you get
the urge.

Yeah, yeah! I know. Cheesy routine. It's not enough, it's too much,
where's the originality, the expertise?

How about this:

2 to 4 sets x 8 reps needs explanation. Two sets per exercise are for
the light-hearted lifter or the out-of-condition, resuming lifter who
is progressing to four sets. Four sets is for the dogged liter with
ambition who is reestablishing his prowess and might. Eight reps per
exercise is a comfortable and productive approximation of repetitions
that can be modified as the lifter engages the weights and determines
his response, direction and needs. That is, if he's paying attention
and cares, the two primary prerequisites to successful weight
training, AKA muscle madness.

Perform the moves with your eye on continuing practice and perfection of form.
Push when passion arouses you and withdraw when inspiration ebbs. Be
graceful, but accept an awkward misstep and occasional fall. Picking
yourself up and carrying on are the most elegant movements you will
make. Let them happen naturally.

There's no room for negative thinking in our wonderful act, but it
will, like the devil, force itself upon us in the form of monotony,
fatigue, doubt, disappointment and selfish desire. Don't give into the forces over which we have growing control. To quit is to lose to the loser within. Losing sucks.


It's all good... Have fun...

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 11-01-2007 11:02
Bad weather haiku.
1.It's no fun being glum.
But today I just am.
Somebody, please, stop the rain.





Mid-day haiku in honour of 3pm. "home run".

2. Work's ended at last.
The sun deigned to show.
Sweet home, here I come!

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 09-01-2007 18:44
Shouldering on.
Work out for tonight, if would be able to find a free square inch on the gym floor, or (most likely) scare away a few pitiful victims of the New Year's resolutions, messing around with 2.5.kg dumb bells or reading newspapers on the tread mill.

1. Military DB presses. 4 X 12-15.
2. BB upright row. 4 X 12-15.
3. Reversed flyes. 5 X 15 - 20.
4. Seated bent over DB row. 5 X 15-20.
5. Seated lateral raises. 5 X 15-20.

Will use light to medium weights (hence the high amount of reps) and force myself into starting AND finishing planned routine despite the mighty hell of a headache, torturing me from last morning and still persisting after two aspirins, two paracetamols and two ibuprofens. You never know, it could be responding well to the good ol’ fashioned hard-core training session. And if I am tough enough to survive both, I’ll let you know.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 08-01-2007 10:22
What could be better, than complete workout?
Complete meal, of course... Unfortunately, you will have to take my word for it, for having done too much yesterday (cooking, entertaining, washing up and tidying up), I woke up late today, got up still half asleep and rushed around in a manner of a lunatic asylum escapee, chased up by the hoard of annoyed burly wardens, equipped with electrical shock devices and shaking the straight jacket at me from afar. As a result the wonderful, homemade, highly nutritional breakfast (6 egg whites omelette and a bottle of “Reflex” protein shake) are left standing, where I put them this morning – on the top of the fridge. Too late to cry over the spoilt food and wasted effort, innit? Will have to sustain myself for the next 10 hours with the free (AND disgusting!) coffee from the vending machine next door; feel quite confident in my ability to suppress any unpleasant, hungry thoughts, caused by food deprivation; and already have come up with a little song to cheer myself up, when the going will get too tough (yeah, yeah, I am marooned on the uninhabited island, called Cockfosters, and there is absolutely no food shops within the eye shot on the main road, right in front of the office window):”Hey, diddly-dee, the starving life for me!!!”

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 05-01-2007 16:53
Muscles and Might -- Live and Learn


It's that time of year when folks feel obligated to make
changes -- get rid of the old and bring in the new. The dear lady, my next door neighbor, wants to take down the rockin' '60s posters (Hendrix, Cream, Stones) and sports banners (Go Raiders) and hang smartly framed oils and watercolors in their places. She said something about repairing the cracks and painting the walls. Yeah, right!



Some people I know are similarly disgruntled about their training.
Forever complaining, never satisfied, they blame their discontent on
everything but themselves -- the weights, the equipment, the
atmosphere, training methods and parking. They go on to say change
will do us good. As always, they're not entirely wrong, and they're
not exactly right. Our training satisfaction and dissatisfaction is
based on many things, not just one, two or a few. Change can be
over-rated.

Remember the Old Dutch adage: He complained about the size of his
boots till he had no boots. He complained about the size of his feet
till he had no feet. He complained about his complaints till he had no complaints. They buried him by the riverside. May he rest in peace. To this day he wishes they buried him under the old oak tree.

The essentials must be recognized and organized, understood and
applied. They must be acknowledged, practiced, established:

~Environment is important... quality of equipment, convenience of the
gym, atmosphere, attitude, circulation of air, cleanliness, order and
odor.

~The workout -- exercises, their arrangement and their performance --
is the nucleus, the center, the indispensable factor.

~Nutrition is fundamental... quantity and excellence of energy- and
muscle-building foods.

~Rest is elementary... sufficiency and quality of sleep and periods of recuperation.

~Mental acuity is integral... ability to focus and deal with stress
and distraction.

~Commonsense is priceless... logic, instinct and the ability to
discern worthy input from the useless.

~Creativity can't be bought, the ability to invent, improvise, fashion and finesse.

~And spirit is invaluable, the place where heart, desire and force
combine.

The list, like New York City, is neither long nor wide, but it is
deep, lofty and overflowing. Keep it in order and attend it well and
we too will be giants.

I expect we'll agree that our complaints and grumblings are relative.
Some of you remember the great workouts you had in your garage,
backyard or basement, or the boiler room at the Y, where the equipment looked like projects-gone-wrong in high school shop class. The weights were loose and rusty and chewed on your hands, the boards for benches had splinters and nails in secret places, and no one in his right mind stood next to the multi-exercise squat rack device, the one in the corner that rocked and rattled when the wind blew or someone slammed the door.

We moaned. But never were the workouts better, more fulfilling,
exciting and productive. We knew what we were doing, where we were
going and why, and it all had to do with muscles and strength and
being cool (hi, girls). That was then, the good old days, before we
were told how it is, where it is and why... by Them, whoever they are.
The older we get and the more we learn, the dumber and less happy we
become.

Here's where and when our grievances began: We decided to make muscle- and strength-building easier, more convenient, less basic, more complex, higher, wider, longer, deeper and more ridiculous than ever.
We decided to make big bucks on a burgeoning industry. Goodbye, muscle and might. Hello trouble -- disillusion, fiction, make-believe, exaggeration, magic and little white lies.

Now, 10, 20, 30 years later, there's a gym next to every Starbucks. We have gyms putting other gyms out of business, and people scrambling to join. The scramble stops at the gym floor and is reduced to a cruise on a stationary bike before a plasma TV. Muscles are developed,manufactured, exaggerated, created, implanted, purchased and sold.
I'll have a pair of those lumps in large... ummm, make that extra
large, thank you.

I've lamented before: Neighborhood gyms, like tigers, are an
endangered species. They're lean, raw, muscular and quick. The tiger
is no bull. You enter unguarded doors, wrestle dumbbells on rugged
benches, lift barbells off rugged racks and tug on cables from rugged
pulleys. You toil, you groan, you leave. You've gotta love it. There's no money in the gym biz, unless you're lucky, blessed or dishonest.

You can watch any one of countless infomercials on the tube all day
long, hawking gadgets that reduce the hips, bulges and flab and
increase the breasts, biceps and sex appeal. These things fold into
slim slabs no bigger than a laptop and weigh less than a cell phone or pack of Marlboros. I'm exaggerating, but so are they. They work. I'm lying, but so are they.

A loopy and flimsy machine that swings like a hammock under the
shapely buttocks of Maxine or rock-hard abs of Mack performs wonders
till Louie and Betty Bonzo mount its deadly aluminum frame. The gadget quivers and Betty shivers, the unit quakes and Louie shakes. Time passes and the Trim-all crashes.

Some of the design styles of equipment advertised are functional and
worthy and bring health and exercise into the home, should they be
activated and not slid under the bed, sold at the flea market or
donated to the church rec facility. And these no doubt add to the
closing of a few of the gyms along the boulevards. Got my own at home, thanks.

Home gyms work for the already invested lifter, the private, yet
motivated and disciplined type, the quick responder, the hobby-bobby
trainee and the severely guilty, self-punishing type. They find refuge
in their little sanctuary, apply themselves regularly and good things
happen. They often eat right because right eating is the perfect
companion of systematic exercise and the pursuit of health. They
confront themselves on the ground floor of life and together take the
express elevator up. The company is likable, the conversation is fine
and there's no rush. Nice day, how ya doin'? Penthouse, please.

Needless to say, the ardent home trainees, those predating the gismo
age, actually train under the iron and steel and rack and stack. They
fly, they soar, they roar. Incoming, 11 o'clock. They bench, deadlift
and squat.

It's been a good day. You parked eventually, signed in dutifully,
nodded automatically and proceeded past the front counter routinely.
The gym floor awaits your presence patiently. What will you do today?

Curls, presses, taxi, fly, land -- whatever you do, do it
enthusiastically.

Godspeed...


Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 04-01-2007 07:22
Sleeping beauty.
Prince Charming urgently required to give a weary fitness manager a kiss of life. Or awakening smooch, if you wish. Previous experience preferred but not essential. For full training is available on request. Successful candidate should be able to start ASAP. Immediately, in fact. Right on the spot. It's my last chance to start feeling and acting, like a decent human being again, rather than spend the dreary winter days fashioning myself after hairy Australian sloth, draped around the nearest tree branch, wrapped in lethargy. Come on, you, your magical Royal Highness, get on your white horse and rescue me with the big, wet and splashy smacker, or I am in danger of living for another three months with the eyes wide shut.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 29-12-2006 11:56
The Old, The New 2006-2007
2006, another year confirms the time-honored observation: No matter
how bad I feel, how bad it gets, after going to the gym I always feel
better. On crutches, in a cast, head aching, nose bleeding,
discouraged, near defeat, without a plan, stubborn, angry or
broken-hearted, the gym nurtures, restores and repairs. The gym
separates joy from the gloom, causing it to rise to the surface; it
soothes the pain and eliminates the source; it challenges, energizes
and heals the mind. The gym never fails.

We're in the afterglow of Christmas, that soft period between December 25th and the New Year. As if suspended by strings, we dangle just above ground unable or unwilling to make traction and dash off in any particular direction. Why bother, is the thought, our energy and resources having been spent in preparation for and celebration of the season; let the rest of '06 (work and play and workouts) simply happen.

We have, thank God, survived thus far.

New Years is always a smile. At home in welcome calm or at a raucous
party with the gang, we manage to appreciate the passage of time.
There were some good days, weren't there; and the bad, well, they were meant to be. We live and learn, we hurt, we fail and we grow. Put it behind us, good riddance, cheers and all that, the New Year is ahead.

Encouraged, we literally press on, the iron in hand. Absent weight
training, 2006 would have been less than it was, we would be less than we are and the world would be less than it is. In 2007 it's our joy and our duty to do it again.

We're in for the long haul, the good fight: confront aging and
deal with it openly without burden or gloom.
Side by side we'll clear through the tangle and forge
suitable pathways to hike. Gotta keep the attitude and spirits high,
push onward with strength and wisdom and not endanger our health -- a
tough nut to crack for a bunch of cracked nuts.

I promise not to overwork the subject, envious and aware that not
everyone has reached the steepened slopes, 40 out of 100, bless them,
still navigating the foothills. Though we are not kids, we are kids at heart. Besides, who cares about spiders and worms, boogey men and
aging anyway?

It won't be long now. The gym doors are closing, the lights are going
out, the floor is almost empty and another workout is coming to an end -- one more set, a few more reps and the final pump of the year.

Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow... well... who knows?

Let me guess: To be more specific, eat plenty of protein, drink every
last drop of your shake and be merry, having completed yet
another year of outrageous blasting sessions, for tomorrow is a day of rejoicing -- tissue recovery and muscle growth. The beat goes on in 2007.

Sky High ... God loves you... Have a good one!
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 28-12-2006 08:00
Turkey is for life....
NOT just for Christmas.

Here are two sample menus of the 6 weeks eating regime I am going to follow from the very first day of the New Year (ironic, isn't it, that it just happened to be Monday?) in order to get myself ready for my "One woman show" on the 5th of April.

Sample menu 1.



BREAKFAST.
6 egg whites scrambled
1 bowl oatmeal (75g)

LUNCH.
110g turkey breast, steamed
mixed salad

SNACK
85g tuna in water
one medium size jacket potatoe

DINNER
110g turkey steak, grilled
15 asparagus spears, grilled.

Two protein shakes, one between breakfast and lunch, and one after training.

Sample menu 2.


BREAKFAST.
6 egg whites (omlet)
1 bowl oatmeal (75g)

LUNCH
110g turkey breast stir fry
steamed vegetables

SNACK
100g cottage cheese
one medium size jacket potatoe

DINNER
110g fish, grilled
mixed vegetables

Two protein shakes, one between breakfast and lunch, and one after training.





Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 24-12-2006 08:16
It's Christmas!!!

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 22-12-2006 14:28
Draper here… Muscles, Time and Moving On
It has recently occurred to me (between 1990 and 2006) that I'm not as
young as I used to be. And I have a sneaky suspicion some of you are
experiencing a similar awakening, sudden and stunning in its arrival.
Well, it's about time. Youth gets to be old after awhile.

Getting older is a real test of one's humor (I got a D-), especially
upon discovering there's nothing funny about it. But we're comics and
clowns and we joke about our looming frailty, lumpiness and fussiness
and laugh (not of the rolling-in-the-aisles variety, more like a
snicker) at the iron-headed irony. The symptoms of time's inexorable
passing are pesky and less than kind and I offer my observations for
your examination:

I can't get out of bed in the morning without an hour's notice.

The elbows and knees grow, biceps and thighs shrink.

And if I could hear, I'd swear the former squeak.

Skin gathers like wiseguys on street corners and sags like sails after
the storm.

The entire body glows with pain and the light keeps Laree awake at
night.

Energy goes south, endurance goes north and fatigue hangs in there.

If the gas reserves in my gut could fuel my car, I could drive
non-stop forever.

Upon entering the gym, I immediately look for a place to sit.

Aerobic exercise is out of the question as the aerobic equipment is up
a flight of stairs.

Loading and unloading the leg press has become my primary back
workout.

I keep a training log to remind me what bodypart I'm working.

I tie a string to the log and attach it to my wrist.

My doc assures me that working out no longer aids my muscles, but
counting the sets and reps is good for mental acuity and resists
senility.

Lately I prefer to train in a cardigan sweater, Dockers and deck
shoes.

I'm seriously eyeing a polished hardwood cane with a nickel-plated
eagle head handle at the pharmacy -- quite dapper. And handy.

Ugh, I sound like I'm 90, going on 100. Life is and always will be
filled with adventures to dare, challenges to overcome, battles to be
won and goodness and peace to be sought, protected and propagated. One
day we awaken and we're all grown up, plus more. What does one do?
Some laugh, some cry, some adapt, some deny. How about you -- what
about me?

As for me...

I'm on the verge of modifying my training intensity. This will be an
experiment only -- I'll greet the new year with steady and persistent
training, minus the last-rep ultimatum. The reason for this is
multifold: Pain is fine but last-rep pain is downright mean and I need
a break; training pace will increase and, I suspect, my mood will
improve; change is always good and the letting-go is a test of
courage; I might reverse some injury trends and signs of overtraining.
Besides, there's a season for every activity under heaven. T'is the
season.

This is a more substantial alteration than most of us realize. As I
write these words and review the prospects, I feel a sense of relief
and hope, curiosity and doubt. Withdrawing effort is not a common
approach for me. Am I caving in or am I being strong? Is this a sign
of decline or an indication of maturity and wisdom? Will I welcome the
change or return to the safety of similitude. Will I regenerate and
grow, or will I weaken and diminish? Love it or hate it, do it or die?

Though I enjoy and respect them, I don't want to become a
mild-mannered trainee who upon completing his set turns to his mate
and demonstrates his golf swing or continues his applauding of
Congressional bipartisanship or returns to his paperback,
undistracted. Hypertrophy depends upon the last almighty repetition,
the final insane quivering contraction of muscle against its will and
capacity, the entering of that timeless space where pain dissolves
into white silence and mountains are moved. Only then, I have been
told by bold and solid sources, do we grow and become more.

You're witnessing the intense period of evaluation I undergo before
making a life-altering decision. No rocks are left unturned. Laree
thinks I should get a job, a friend or treatments. Not I, I'm done.
Monday I'll put my brilliant method into operation.

Just as we are cautioned never to say never, so it follows we should
forego declaring "so it will be." My aim is to train according to my
relative fluctuating influences -- mood, energy, time etc. -- with
three tantalizing modifications: reduce the sets per exercise from
five to four, eliminate the last-rep of maximum effort and insert the
HRT principle where and when inspired.

A quick review of the Drape's Over-60 Four-day-a-week Routine: Monday,
chest, back and shoulders; Tuesday, biceps, triceps and lats;
Wednesday, Legs; Thursday off: Friday, total-body combination;
Saturday and Sunday off. The total sets per workout are 30 to 35 in
the rep range of 6 to 15, plus midsection. Each workout takes 90 to
120 concentrated minutes, the pace governed by injury limitations and
the controversial last-rep max output.

In an attempt to enjoy and appreciate the perceived advantages of the
revision in training intensity, I'll perform four rather than five
working sets of each choice exercise (The fifth set can be brutal and
apprehensive). This will have a valuable mind-freeing effect and allow
me to focus more deliberately and determinedly on each rep and set and
every nuance of movement. Make the most of the action with less time
and physical and mental energy expenditure.

As outlined above, eliminating the extreme last-rep output saves
exhausting time, enables quicker recovery and, thus, efficiently
improves the workload pace.

In both occasions, pain and extended training turmoil are reduced
without loss of musclebuilding effect... or so we hope and will
discover. A month should provide sufficient evidence to make a
determination.

Now, to satisfy the need to pounce on the body and beat it within a
hair-breadth of its life, I shall apply the high rep training (HRT...
sounds like hurt, remember?) principle to the final set of those
exercises that are unfortunate enough to gain my attention. Only now,
as I add this third accommodation, am I relieved and feel a sense of
raw animal control. Mean and lean.

Installing the scheme should be quick 'n easy. You may have noted I
did not call my trailblazing training modification a routine. Routines
are something we read in muscle magazines or books on the subject. I
intentionally avoided the term program, as programs are offered by
schools, institutions and coaches. The word workout is not accurate, a
workout being somethin' we do systematically between entering and
leaving the gym. Hi, guys, wazup? Plan would suffice if didn't sound
so ordinary. Proper and important folks reference their exercise
endeavor as a schedule, which sounds like time has bitten them in the
butt and won't let go.

Schemes, however, are devised by the crafty, the clever and cunning.
Based on scrutiny and computed instincts, I've removed something from
one place and with a wink of the eye inserted another thing. Here I
minimized and there I maximized. Careful wording and phrasing --
last-rep max, modify, extended training turmoil -- further enhance the
sound and appearance of my, if you'll excuse the triteness, plan.
Whatever! As long as it works.

Quick 'n easy sounds simple. They are in fact like flying a bomber,
quick 'n easy in action, but skill- and courage-demanding in
application. Waste no time. Be wise and of strong heart. Take to the
sky without fault or delay. It's another fine day, my friends.

Godspeed... Dave

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 21-12-2006 12:58
“Will the REAL Slim Shady, please, stand up?...”
At the risk of sounding patronizing, overbearing or snobbish (being a snob is my full time occupation, actually, or didn’t you know?), I am writing this entry after making a foolish promise to a friend a few days back, being nagged, for a while now, by the nasty feeling it’s high time I delivered. This particular piece is a result of a long deliberation; it caused me a few debates with myself; even required a sort of a stripping-down show, for I am taking off my protective armour of perpetual cynicism and customary piss taking. Nevertheless, despite feeling exposed and naked, I would bravely plunge my nude self into the murky waters of ambiguity and, for once, try to be serious and keep it short and sweet. Not such a bad thing, though, to let yourself to sleep on the matter, to allow your thoughts settle, crystallize, ferment and mature. Ideas would always benefit from the same treatment as fine cheese and wine, really. Time make their bouquet all the more distinguished and render their value priceless.

Whenever I take a step back to see things clearly, anytime I stop being one of the “Harbor” journalists and could judge without passion and partiality, it’s becoming very obvious, that most of the people here are united by one thing in common – an addiction. We are all nothing but a collection of junkies, fighting lonely daily battles with our either secret or highly advertised dependencies. Not necessarily with food. Being of different upbringing, cultural back-grounds, races, nationalities, customs, traditions, vices and temperaments, we display it very transparently in our diaries. Here is your very typical eating disorders’ sufferer, here is a compulsive-obsessive; this one is a very definite case of image-keeping-obsession and THAT one – just a, very simply, “nut case”. You would immediately recognize the Internet addiction – such a person will be granting the web-community “an exclusive” on “every step they make” AND making their appearance on every site’s forum, contributing to any discussion, will it be a spinal disk problem or latest Hollywood drama, set in the eighteenth century. There are also diet gurus of various persuasions and fitness experts of all sorts and from all necks of wood. And the self-proclaimed ladies-novelists, inspired by ridiculous notion of a literary talent, craving, if not fame, but acceptance. In short, a very fine bunch of attention-seekers, which would’ve made the late W. Thackeray arise from oblivion to rewrite his master piece.
Some of our numerous community are very serious about breaking free, making a dash for it, escaping from the dreary clutches of enslavement. And quite a few are firmly on the way to the recovery and deserve nothing but high admiration and deepest respect for it. The only thing is – you have to remember one simple, but scary wisdom. “Once an addict – always an addict”. Doesn’t matter, that you have been eating properly for quite some time now, that you are not chucking your food out in the toilet, turning the tap running full force, to blot out the sounds of “regurgitating” (Yuck, yuck and yuck). Never mind, that you are no longer scratching under your arm pit with one hand, at the same time immortalizing this utterly fascinating action of yours with the other AND with the aid of a key-board. It’s beside the point, that you have being given “all clear” after half a year in the rehab. You still have to go to “AA” meetings once a month, and on each and every one of them you will have to stand up and announce:” Hello! My name is… And I am an alcoholic.” (What did YOU think I was writing about – the British most popular road service company bi-annual?)
Regardless of all the professional or self help, be it a clinic, a shrink, a hypnotising CD, a diet book, or a personal trainer’s hefty fee, you will be, what you essentially have been for most of your life – an addict. Only now a “recovering” one. And to be aware of it, to keep yourself in-check and on guard is not such a bad thing, after all. For there will be always the dangers of something triggering the old illness up, re-activating the urge, hooking you up again, starting the torture anew, but you – you will be ready for it. This is why I keep saying to my clients and friends with unhealthy fixations – prepare yourselves for a life-time of hard work. That’s it, you heard me right. LIFE-TIME, no less.
Some would argue, that our body is a temple and, as such, will only need a good guiding spirit inside in form of subconscious (a bit, like a priest or vicar on their high pulpit) in order to keep things right and prevent any kind of throw-backs.. But even a temple is a building and, as such, requires a constant (24 X 7) attention of professional maintenance team. You could think your subconscious “Man of the Cloth” belongs to the only possible religion in the world and with it you’ll follow the path of light to the Kingdom of Live Happily Ever After. Well, sorry to disappoint, but I would beg to differ. Not the doctrines, lectures or sermons make all the difference or create an impact. PRACTICE, MAINTANANCE and conscious effort, as it well known, make perfect. And if you want to keep your predicaments firmly under control, you’ve got no choice, but practice, what you preach. Otherwise, there is no hope.

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 19-12-2006 10:30
Living on the prayer...
Christmas prayer, that is... Narrated after visiting the epicentre (was very tempted to spell it, as "ape-centre" of the Christmas Nuclear Bomb Explosion, commonly reffered to (at the non-military, "war-is-over" times), as Canary Wharf Shopping Mall.

"May Santa grant you:
1. The serenity to accept the gifts you cannot return;
2. The courage to exchange the presents you can;
3. And the receipts to know the difference."
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 18-12-2006 14:49
" And men will live forever more...

...because of Christmas Day..."

Or will they?
Don't want to contradict the Bible; hold the value of Jesus' birth and his sacrifice fr humanity in any doubt; ridicule the Jamaican quartet in their snow-white, furry, oh, so camp, outfits, or disappoint the hard core funs of famous "BonyM" 70-s hit; but judging by the thickness of the crowd on every high street in London (and around the UK), the high tide of Christmas bacchanalia reached its’ fever pitch. And who is to predict how many bodies will be picked up and carried away from the shops, Malls and Market Places after the reindeers flew Santa back to the North Pole and “season to be jolly” is well and truly over?


Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 15-12-2006 07:27
Draper here… High Rep Training Investigated.
I feel like I'm in a psychedelic haze. It's the middle of December, by
jolly golly, and we're up to our ears in plastic snowmen, blinking
Santa Clauses and grinning red-nosed reindeer. Bewildered people with
gaily colored packages balanced on their heads dash hither, thither
and far, ribbons and snowflakes whirling behind them. If I hear bells
jingle or choruses sing another note of White Christmas, I'm pulling
the emergency cord.

I know what I'll do: I'll go to the mall, get stuck in traffic along
the way, circle the parking lot fighting for a space, walk half a mile
to the brightly lit shops advertising end-of-the-world sales, join the
shoppers swarming the aisles like a South American army ants, resist
an impending panic attack, take a few blows to the body and escape to
the parking area the size of Manhattan to search for my car --
wherever that could be.

Yes, Officer, I distinctly remember bringing it with me. It's a
pickup, maroon in color. Toyota, '93. License plate number? What
license plate number... Who knows their license plate number? No, I'm
not yelling. I am calm. Yeah, thanks, Buckaroo! Merry Christmas to
you, too.

Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home.

New Year's is always a trip. We get the sense that one year is over
(already, or at last) and another is just beginning (a fresh start,
thank heavens). Of course, time goes on as always, uninterrupted by
our man-made tricks -- the calendar and the clock. We party all night
or fall asleep by 11 in front of the TV, and greet the New Year with a
mindful of mindless amendments. Hmmm, everything looks the same to me,
we note. Same eternal clock, apparently a different year.

Nevertheless, we would like to be better people and live better lives.


"This is the year," a thought, neither original nor striking, wobbles
through our minds, precluded by maybe (a sign of doubt) or hopefully
(a sign of optimism) or a bold nod (a sign of certainty, also known as
arrogance). We review our lives with a close-up lens, or from a
distance with a tentative poke of a stick, and eventually surrender to
a day off -- ballgames, parades, feasts, fidgeting, squirming and
twitching -- unless we work or workout.

No rest for the weary, or the poor, driven and hopeful.

Training on the first or last day of the year can be interpreted as
commitment. Training on both days leaves no room for interpretation.
You are committed, beginning to end, top to bottom. One might add
crazy, without a life, obsessed, pitiful, merciless, boring, alone and
dumb. Not everyone's the life of the party. Pump those delts.

A few weeks ago I mentioned the overall lack of new training ideas,
suggesting the best we can do is press on with the old and discover
newness within ourselves. Some lifters shrugged their shoulders,
unimpressed. Others -- traitors, deserters, suckers and louts --
clicked on flashmuscle.com for the latest fast 'n furious techniques.
And a handful understood what I meant, collected themselves and bombed
it with revitalized purpose and spirit.

"It works," I was comforted and rewarded by a few desperate, yet
knowing lifters. "There's much more beneath the surface of your
workout when you focus with focus," I was reassured just in time. I
had begun to doubt myself and considered eating a five-pound plate.

Emboldened and slightly inflated, I offer another suggestion, this one
as old as the sands of Muscle Beach: High Rep Training. Yes, I know
you're disappointed, but it's cold and December and I've been out of
creative techniques since the spring of 2001. Nevermind that; this,
too, works. Think: When was the last time you tried high reps with
serious intention, courage and high hopes? For me it was many years
ago –--Vietnam, Hendricks, Woodstock -- when I was defining for major
contests or exhibitions.

We have the notion that high reps are for warming up, conditioning,
injury recovery, older lifters (hellooo), weight loss or mindless and
playful exercise. Fair enough. But dedicated High Rep Training (HRT --
sounds like hurt) is for the gutsy and bold. I mentioned courage in
the previous paragraph and my hand quivered as I spelled out the word
on the keyboard. High rep training -- consistent sets of 15-20 reps
with the last rep being the last possible rep -- is for bloody
warriors.

This past week I've been flirting with the old principle and she has a
smile as sweet and alluring as a bathing beauty at the fountain of
youth. She's a cruel lover and makes you work for your pleasures --
peak pump and burn, cellular awakening, maximum muscle engagement,
total focus, new tissue growth.

High-rep workouts come in all shapes and sizes to suit your motives,
needs, abilities, receptiveness and daring. Serious intentions are the
driving force.

You can apply a single set of high reps at the end of each succession
of sets of any or all your exercises in your mid- or low-rep workout
scheme. Very cool. You maintain your rhythm and rhyme, and attach a
meaningful jolt to the end sets of your exercises. High reps are like
a magnifying glass, enabling you to examine the movement, the muscle
involvement and the exact length, width and depth of the burn and the
height of the pain. High reps remind you of the reason you lift.

You might choose specific movements from your routine and apply the
HRT principle. For example, of your biceps exercises, only thumbs-up
curls are designated for high reps and of your triceps routine, only
pulley pushdowns are pursued for sets of 20. Chest is trained in your
favorite fashion and final-touch cable crossovers reach for 20 reps.
Straight-arm pullovers are done in the 20-rep range to complement your
lat and back work and sets of 20-rep lying-sidearm lateral raises
complete your screaming deltoid program. Mean, but meaningful.

You are welcome to go all the way and engage in total HRT for the day
or week or month. Make sure you have plenty of flesh, fuel and
intelligent purpose for this mission. There are no words to describe
the fury when intensity is applied. Badges of courage and valor and
heroism are, on rare occasions, passed out to survivors.

Of course, limiting the weight you use determines the intensity of the
workout. Light weights can be a pleasant sling of metal for
conditioning, serious calorie-burning and weight loss. Don't expect
the development of muscle mass, though shape and tone will likely be
among the rewards. Remember to focus continually despite the
repetition of the repetitions. And don't forget to fuel the body and
feed the muscle.

We are of diverse body chemistries, constitutions and mentalities, and
each of us will respond differently to the training style; some will
embrace it and some will reject it and others will tolerate it for the
rewards it promises. Most will dread the relentless sting and string
of the reps; some will respond with a pump and muscle-understanding,
and discover new ranges of training possibilities and provoke new
dimensions of muscle exertion.

I'm still poking around the edges of HRT. I'll ease into the technique
as if it's new and I'm a clueless beginner taking notes (no problemo).
I suspect I'll cling to my basic routine that oozes and changes form
like an amoeba under a microscope, and add a curious and determined
set of 20 to four exercises that strike my interest. If I like it I'll
pursue it further.

HRT might be what an injured old body needs and desires, for awhile,
anyway. Not that I would know or care; I'm a child, a beginner and
clueless.

12 days till Christmas, 18 till New Year's. Plenty of time to enjoy
the season, train hard, eat right and get huge and ripped. Fly above
the storm, soar with the winds, glide on sweet breezes and land
softly.

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 12-12-2006 15:01
Under my skin.
Though the road has been hard, as the day is long, I wouldn't trade in a second. The strength that's allowed me to endure doesn't come from what you see - the bulking slabs of meat; the veins, thick as ropes; skin so thin the grainy fibers show. No, it run deeper. To get to it, you'd have to cut away all the layers of doubt and destruction till knife hits the bone.
We're all the same. We are made of flesh and blood and bone. The difference lies underneath. The reason I am still here is because long time ago this great endeavor, this way of life, got under my skin and kept me going ever since...
You might prefer to follow your own path. I wouldn't have it any other way.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 11-12-2006 09:05
Here we go again!
Back to the gym. Holiday over. Down from the cloud nine at end of the rainbow and on to the Earth with a thud. Bloody painful. Meeting in an hour. Work is piling up. Not even a mulberry bush in sight to make the familiar "round and round" routeen a tad more animated. Grey and rainy Monday behind the streaming window. The day seem to have died prematurely without being properly born. Just another day at the office. Typical, innit?
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 08-12-2006 08:31
If you are a "golly good fellow..."
Birthdays forgotten; presents not received; another year older; expectation dashed.
Birthdays are fraught with phychological dangers, that could lead to heart attacks and heart failure. Scientists have long known that stressful events (birthdays included) can trigger heart attacks and stroke. They are deadly, in other words. As though the fact, that we start dieing from the day we are born is not ironic enough.
Shall I play it safe this year and skip my birthday can't help wondering? Come, Mr. Grinch, my birthday is up for grabs!!!




[Bruma]
[Sweetiepie]
[PretoGatu]
[VETA-S]
[Chashka]
[диреХтор-2]
[Jull]
[Mirna]
[Окса]
[Муся-Маруся]
[Редиска]
[Rura]
[kisroka]
[Campanella]


Thanks a lot, everybody. I love you all.

PS. Grinch didn't come.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 05-12-2006 10:11
The importance of being ECCENTRIC.
No, I am not talking about English eccentricities here: colourful tweeds, high socks, deer stalker and Labrador to heel. Or, perhaps, pink Mohican, laddered tights and red- and- green tartan. Being single minded AND boring, I am writing about most extreme form of eccentricity (in the bodybuilding sense of the word, of course): THE NEGATIVES.
As it well known every resistance exercise consists of two phases: lifting and lowering; contraction and stretch; concentric and eccentric; positive and negative. And it is the latter one, which is absolutely critical for muscle growth.
A new study published in the American Journal of Physiology, Endocrinology and Metabolism encourage bodybuilders to emphasize maximal ECC contractions, if they are looking to stimulate muscle hypertrophy.
Hypertrophy, induced by ECC, does not rely on GH or IGF production, or testosterone synthesis, or total calories intake. To prove it scientists did all the nasty things to the lab rats Marquis de Sad would turn green with envy in his coffin at the mere thought of having missed on such fun. They removed the rats’ pituitaries so they couldn’t produce GH or IGF-1; castrated them to stop testosterone production; removed their thyroid, or just didn’t feed them. Despite this punishment, the rats still had increased in muscle hypertrophy while introduced to tension overload by putting muscles on stretch (ECC contraction).
So, why are negatives or maximal eccentric contractions (ECC) so important for muscle hypertrophy? During ECC contractions more tension is generated and also more micrro injury occurs to skeletal muscles, which stimulates muscle hypertrophy. When researches want to induce muscle hypertrophy in animals, they don’t use high-rep training with light weight, they induce muscle hypertrophy through muscle tension overload. Also high-rep training feels great for muscle pump, for muscle hypertrophy to occur, nothing generates tension like maximal ECC training.
ECC training also takes less time, is far more intensive, then your regular kind of "pump" AND hurts like Hell. I, actually, quite like it, when my whole body aches and screams in pain after the good thrashing session in the gym. It could be called “pain addiction”, but, again, as long as I could look that Pain in the face and see the results, I don’t mind.
From now on, however positive my take on “normal” life might be, in the "abnormal" surroundings of the gym I am going to stay negative.

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 03-12-2006 08:56
Bye, bye, apple pie.
If you want your slice of life, deny it

The most important quality you could have in bodybuilding, is self-denial, but it's not easy to develop. You must train for it as hard, as you work out in the gym or diet.
For a lady with a sweet tooth it's especially difficult, when your weakness is apple pie. And, man, I do love a good hefty slice of apple pie. Homemade, fresh and hot out of the oven with a generous dollop of vanilla ice cream.
Other than apple pie, my favourite is profiteroles. I go into the store and pray to God there wouldn't be any there. And if there is (which is alwayas the case), Heavens help me to pass the aisle without grabbing three or four plastic domes, containing the tasty treasure.
After the little bet with my self and a promise I made to a few sceptical characters from my list of web-friends, though, I cut out both desserts for good. From this point on it's a long time, before I have a bite of each, but that's a part of bodybuilding, one of the sacrifices you have to make. To me it's worth it. Bodybuilding, after all, IS a sacrifice. You have to decide, what you want most in life, then go for it, and the only thing I want more, than apple pie is the proof I am not a looser.
That's the difference between being a bodybuilder and being a winner. Anyone can go into the gym and lift weights, but not everyone can give up profiteroles. Takes a special kind of person to do that.
There comes a time in life, when you have to make those major decisions, but I've already proven to myself that, if a chance to win comes around only once in a while, apple pie ( AND profiteroles ) comes around every day.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 02-12-2006 07:06
Haiku at breakfast.
Scrambled eggs are cooked.
Tea is fresh and hot.
Who would wish me good morning?
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 01-12-2006 13:55
Hats, skarves and bikinis...



Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 01-12-2006 09:08
Draper here… Weights, Workouts and Personality
We think, function and behave according to our personalities. It
follows, then, we train according to our personality. My training, for
example, is nasty, aggressive and uninspiring, whereas Laree's is
lovable, thoughtful and stimulating. Her training, were it portrayed
on canvas, would be a bouquet of wildflowers in a clay jar, a sweeping
valley of verdant fields and grazing antelope; mine, coils of rusty
barbed wire, molten lava spewing from a volcanic crevice.

That is to say the long-standing Website Champion -- Miss Blog, the
Queen of the Forum, 2006 -- controls each well-chosen exercise with
perfect form and perfect pace to exactly 85-percent-maximum exertion,
whereupon she turns precisely to continue her mission, her challenge,
her set by set, rep by rep deed. Upon completion, she smiles, adjusts
her waistband and departs. I, on the other hand, grasp the iron like
it was a haunted, living thing that owed me its life; I strangle it
and pummel it and drag it about the gym floor till only one of us is
standing. Another workout concluded. I crawl out the door.

How do you perceive your training? What do your workouts look like?
Are you Mr. Rogers, Attila the Hun, Queen of the Hop, The Pillsbury
Doughboy?

The action of the lifter on the gym floor fairly accurately reflects
who he or she is on the inside. Of course it's only fair to allow the
new trainee to adapt to his surroundings, the gym an intimidating
setting to even the boldest new participant. He walks tentatively in
circles as he scans his surroundings looking for something slightly
familiar. Conscious of his awkward presence he grasps a pair of
innocuous dumbbells and hefts them about, as if testing their
solidness and usability. A serious nod as he returns them to their
resting place is a sure sign he agrees with the balance, shape and
firmness of the metal objects, fine tools of the trade. Yes, indeedy!

Careful not to tiptoe another step, our yet-unproven hero approaches a
cable machine and pokes the short handle that hangs temptingly. Hmmm.
Like a stalker, his eyes wander broadly and innocently while
scrutinizing a well-toned member apply might and skill to the tricky
apparatus. Ahha, action is worth a thousand words. He sidles up to the
gismo, grabs the handle as observed and tugs. Oooff... nothing
happens, a wrenched wrist, maybe. He adjusts the weight stack...
oooff. Nada. He adjusts it one more time, only three plates remaining.

He struggles, a contorted body confronting stark reality and
embarrassment. Oh, boy, what have I gotten myself into?

He has an image of himself -- pigeon-toed, knock-kneed,
slope-shouldered and pot-bellied with a feeble grin emitting tiny
gurgles -- as he stands in the middle of the gym floor a mile from the
locker room. "Hey buddy; can ya give me a spot," sez Joe Poluka, a
pile of raw muscle sitting at a bench with a bar quivering under a
load of countless plates. Our man in freshly pressed pleated shorts
weeps.

The true personality, the inner-self, emerges as the beginner emerges
from the weight-laden gym floor week after week. He and Joe compare
notes. Persistence is a very good thing.

One's personality sort of happens according to life's experiences. We
arrive one day, a bundle of genes amid immediate chaos, and the
development begins: Mom, Dad, warm, cold, affection, rejection, food,
comfort and distress; school, friends, enemies, religion, politics,
the opposite sex, money and the lack thereof. Hello, I'm me.

Personality can also be modified by intentional intervention: the
company one keeps, the environment chosen, the experiences undertaken,
the subject matter studied and so forth. The gym is a great place for
sought-after personality improvement. I've seen weaklings stooped with
shyness stand tall after long, hard bouts with the iron. Unbearable,
loud-mouth jerks are frequently silenced by the strain of the steel,
its voice more convincing than theirs. And the no-nonsense wit of the
weights takes the cockiness from the coolest of dudes. No game,
weightlifting levels the playing field.

Those who endure win the prize, gain the honor, become more, learn and
grow. Those who don't, don't.

I often wonder what goes on in any one day of the active fitness
personality who charges into the gym, hops on a Lifecycle, adjusts her
headphones and spreads the newspaper before her. The movement of her
mouth indicates she's lip-syncing the song or reading the funnies word
by word, and the occasional glance at the TV suggests she has the news
or sports or sitcom down to a science. I am then reminded, as someone
breaks my reverie by asking if I'm using the leg press or just sitting
there, that my own training is a mysterious science. She darts out the
exit; I remain, making up for lost time.

Aware there's no room for distraction on the gym floor -- a dedicated
time and space for purpose, determination, concentration and muscle
engagement only – I struggle not to observe the gal in sky-blue
short-shorts who leans provocatively against the horizontal leg press,
a personality-driven exercise. I've never before been drawn to the
unit and I'm not about to be sidetracked by its apparent powers at
this stage of my development. Horizontal leg presses cannot compare
with squats, I assure myself. Focus, Draper. Blue Shorts knocks out
three tantalizing sets of 15 reps, as registered by my masterful
unconscious mind, which can count in its sleep. She's last seen
talking with the boys near the bent-over row, another
personality-driven exercise. Ah, girls, who can understand them?

Boys will be boys. One flexes his lats (nothing happens) and swaggers
along the length of mirrors before the dumbbell racks, his eyes
diverted by his accompanying image. I'm cool! The other flexes his
triceps, a popular lat-flexing alternative (nothing happens), and does
a set of adorable curls with a light weight so as not to be distracted
by the pain of strain at this gratifying moment. If the boys last --
persevere -- the weights will produce lats and triceps, willpower and
focus and personalities, and they will understand girls slightly,
which is a lot, experts say.

There are those personality types who don't want big muscles (I know,
most of you are shaking your heads in disbelief, like, where do these
people come from, what are they thinking, don't they have any
imagination, get a clue, hellooo, anybody home?). They're frisky and
enjoy the brief, spirited interlude the gym presents. Or they're
worried, overweight and suddenly health conscious, doctor's orders.
Some, the lucky ones, are trim and intend to stay that way with a
little of this (treadmill) and a little of that (stretching).

A number of folks dare not do too much cuz they don't want to become
muscle-bound and lumpy. More than a few are lazy or uninformed and
enough is enough before enough is much of anything. I know both males
and females who think they'll break if they apply force to their
fragile and mere flesh-and-bone bodies. They stretch and bend and walk
and talk. Gyms are dangerous places for human beings. Rest homes and
hospitals are safer.

You and I, bombers with wings and tales to spin, engulf the gym with
our entire beings. We enter the warehouse of iron, benches and gizmos,
and unload our energy, desire and might. We impart life to the metal
we touch and draw our share before we're done. There's a wonderful
balance in the giving and taking away, and the more generous we are,
the more we acquire. It's a personality thing, I think, and that's yet
to be disproved.

Who is going to challenge this apparent fact of life: the boys, the
alluring, the lazy, the worried, the content, the fearful, the lumpy
or the fortuitous? I don't think so.

Aren't you glad (feeble word, make that thrilled) you lift weights
with purpose and enthusiasm? Yeah, yeah... it comes in waves, but it's
as regular as the ocean. And while we're on the subject, did you ever
see an ocean that didn't have endless miles of personality? I didn't
think so.

Same thing goes for the sky. Push the throttle forward, take it up and
look around. Endless miles, yours and mine...

God's might and height... DD

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 29-11-2006 12:44
Sense of self.
The topic of this entry is too dear to my heart, too close to home to let go unaddressed; something I reflect upon almost every day. And, if warmed up to the subject a tad too much, I would, probably, get carried away till you, my patient friends, start experiencing an overwhelming desire to throttle “that annoying prattler” with your bare hands, capture the whole scene on you mobile phone and post it on “YouTube” to make a good example out of it and to install some fear into the aspiring future pompous amateur moralists.
I travel to work every day. I am that banal commodity, truly common feature of the modern life style, typical and universal to any of the world’s big metropolises – a commuter. This wearisome occupation gets me out of bed every morning in the complete darkness, hurries me to the train station, comes rain or sunshine, bores me into the gaping, widely open hell-hole of the Tube, carries me down the echoing windy passages of it’s endless tunnels and corridors. Sometimes, when it’s still too early, I am enjoying almost solitary journey through my daily route (oh, such a rare and welcomed bliss!); in other, less fortunate, times I am surrounded by the motley crew of fellow voyagers, hell bent on the reaching their destination , focused on the too familiar “timetable – watch – newspaper - here comes the train” circuit, proceeding on their way on auto-pilot and not giving a damn about anything around them.
I used to belong to this oblivious, zombied fellowship, one of the disciples of the secret, though very numerous society, bringing daily pray to the altar of that fierce and feared God of all commuters, called “Save Time”, where we worship by getting into the carriage, closest to the front of the concourse, sitting next to the door, standing on that exact spot on the platform, “right opposite that “Jack Daniel” advert; diving in, rushing out, jumping over the gap, being the first one on the escalator, knowing all the short cuts there are to know and always managing to catch that already departing train, literally, by it’s tail.
For quite a few years, I used to enjoy that over- and underground variation of the contemporary rat races. And it’s not just the figure of speech, by the way, for you do see real rats on the Tube every now and then. They would plonk alongside the tracks dragging their fat bellies and filthy bold tails over the wooden “sleepers” and smirking knowingly and smugly at the crowd of miserable human fools, shuffling, on the edge of white tiled cliff above them.
I used to observe the passengers around me, identifying familiar faces, memorizing the mannerisms, pinpointing the habits, classifying obsessions and phobias. Take this one, for instance, the one getting on the over ground train at the same station I do (AND Central Line train to “Bank”. AND “DLR”). English. Good clothes, intelligent face, always pencilling in his cross word and pedantically writing down the time he completed it in. (Couldn’t resist peeping over his shoulder once, if you would like to know how I KNOW.) Or this one, quite obviously, from a completely different social layer of life. Turkish. Veru "casually" dressed to say the least. I don’t know, what takes him across the whole town (from Enfield to Lewisham) every morning, weighed down by two huge “Liddle” carrier bags, but he is as regular feature on my train as an announcement “Mind the gap!” on any Tube station. Or this Indian girl, for example, the one who power walks to the train station , very precisely calculates, where the first door of the first carriage would be, ALWAYS sits on the same place (turn left entering the train, walk past two first seats, turn right, sit down, facing the front), changes from the white “Nike” trainers into the office court shoes and dedicates the rest of the valuable commuting time to carefull make up application session.
I used to regard all this funny rituals, original eccentricities and unorthodox behavior with an indulgent smile, till, one day, a slightly disturbing thought appeared in my mind in all its naked and unpleasant truth. “There is nothing to be sniggering at. You are nothing, BUT one of them. One insignificant unit of the big, ordered army of crafty, paranoid, demented folks, who are managing to dedicate half of their earthy existence, arriving from point “A” to point “B” without realizing, that they are losing a good half-and-a-bit of themselves in the process. We even look like bizarre creations from a ”Star Trek” sci-hi series: half-men, half-machines united and scary in our robotic appearance, computerized instincts and mechanical movements. We are functioning healthily, happily pottering along, while the cumbersome mechanism of the traveling tread mill is churning around smoothly. But if, Heavens forbid, an unexpected accident (signal failure, personnel shortage, staff strike, fire or deluge) interrupts the regular flow of the events, then we are lost; and instead of organized, rhythmically marching troops you will get a herd of sheep on the dark stormy night, left without guidance of a shepherd on the steep slide of the Welsh hills. At such moments we are turning into pure maniacs, experiencing all the pleasure of compulsive-obsessive, bleating with horror at having found the free end of the loo roll coming from the bottom, NOT from the top of it, for Christ sake! (I actually knew somebody, who would have a real fit even at the mere thought of such a possibility.)

And another thing started bothering me more and more during those fruitless hours on the public transport. When I arrive at my destination point, do I remember much? Do I remember ANYTHING at all? Where was my soul while my body was moving through the time and space? Here still, on planet Earth? In another Galaxy? Or in some black hole on the Final Frontier, where all the living things disintegrate into their original molecular state? I might’ve been lobotomized and transferred in that unconscious vegetative state from our Solar System to the one, yet indiscovered, kidnapped by the aliens, and it wouldn’t make an atom of difference.
“This is my life slipping away from my grasp, trickles slowly, getting through my fingers, day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute. Don’t I have anything better to do with it, then compete with all this loons and idiots around me for the right to stand “tall and proud” on this chipped piece of ceramic square, waiting impatiently for the train doors to slide open right in front of my nose and squaring the elbows in the anticipation of some cheek’s maneuver, shooting from behind and planting his feet firmly on the place I've already set my eyes upon(in the immediate proximity of the see-through plastic partition right next to the door), and which I consider my birth right?"
You might have IQ in single numbers and still find the right answer to this question. You could bet your last tenner I’ve done a lot better than simply answering it. I’ve acted upon it. I’ve dispensed with this all-consuming, hazardous occupation of being time efficient by ANY means and punctual by ALL costs, and decided to jump (no, NOT “the ship”) the hamster wheel.
It’s been about a year and a half since my AWOL and I don’t think anybody noticed my silent rebellious defection or seriously mourned a traitor and a deserter.
No, I am not afraid to miss my train any more and, yes, it does happen sometimes. So what? It makes this sniff of a fresh air all the longer, and early morning birds’ twittering all the sweeter. No, I am no longer trying to grab “my” seat and could even spend part of the journey standing up. It simply means my bum wouldn’t get flat and I will retain my erm… curves. Now days I don’t know the departure time of the DLR by heart and (oh, the shame of it!) instead of running up the escalator I might quite calmly stand on the right, hold on to the rail and not feel guilty about a distinct possibility of letting 20:33 service to Enfield Town go home without me.
After all, if you see the back of the train, it is entirely possible, that it is simply NOT YOUR TRAIN. Old Chinese wisdom, perfectly authentic, though philosophically improvised by yours truly, on one cold autumnal night, it, actually, happened.

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[Запись для всех] 28-11-2006 10:23
It would've been funny...
Found this joke on the Internet. And, as have no desire, or strength, or, for that matter, a wit to kick my ass AND my brain into gear, but thinking the subject of the anecdote very appropriate for the site's content and orientation, simply placing it here in hope of some bored, leisurely guest wandering in, stumbling accidentally upon it and smiling in the amused recognition.

- I am on the sea food diet.
- Really? How does it work?
- Oh, it's very simple. Whenever I see food, I eat it.
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[Запись для всех] 27-11-2006 09:42
Are you happy?
I am not obviously happy every day. I don't make a lot of money. I genuinely enjoy what I do. I have a house. A husband. A son. But there are days, when I wake up feeling cut up and spend my time, trying to glue two halves of me together.
Happiness is partly what you choose to think about, what's playing in that cassette in your mind. I don't allow myself to dwell on the bad, when the overwhelming thrust of my life is so good. I know, sooner or later, my spark will be back and I'll reasset myself with my usual "Carpe diem - Seize the day!" attitude.
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[Запись для всех] 24-11-2006 15:14
The Treasure Chest.
I am very apprehensive about getting presents. There are two sides of me, two completely different voices in my head, two personalities even, who keep arguing with each other, fighting almost, never coming to any kind of agreement, or at least a compromise, as far as their opinions of birthday presents are concerned. One, very child-like and still as hopeful, as I was at the age of six, is getting into ecstatic frenzy, every time a Royal Male note flutters through the letterbox and on to the doormat. “Gifts! Gifts! Somebody remembered! Somebody cares!” Out goes a grown up, well trained and behaved almost middle aged lady, and in bounds the red headed infant terrible, hop scotching inside me, madly thrilled and eager with anticipation, impatient to smack her grabby paws on the stash of secret and unknown delights hidden by a brown wrapping paper or shiny, glittery, beribboned gift box.
“O, come on! Don’t get too carried away!” pipes in the other, slightly nasal, a little bit older and a great deal nastier voice.” Do not get your hopes up too high! Stop jumping, like a loon and keep your hair on!” Full of mockery and sarcasm, this cynical sotto ad lib is never too far away to sprinkle cold water of reason and common sense over the still smoldering coals of my enthusiasm. It even might be, that this is my guardian angel speaking, trying to warn me against unsubstantial expectations and ward off another disappointment. That what my birthday presents normally are, and this is what I am slowly teaching myself to come to term with. After all, it’s just logical to assume, that if it happened ones, twice and..., erm…, trice, then this is just “the way things are”, the natural progress of events and, by the rule of the thumb (and in the words of highly esteemed and slavishly revered Mr. Murphy) “Things could always get worse. And usually do”.
But, I guess, Pandora’s sprit lives forever in any woman, and sometimes even men are not safe from the clutches of curiosity, responsible for the plight of “All gifted”, her weak husband, titan Epimetheus, and all the mankind with them. We learn everything by comparison, and I could only consol myself with the notion, that my birthday gifts saga of disappointments is much, MUCH more preferable, than terrible fate of Pandora and Prometheus brother, being stung by “all the evil of the world”, escaping from under the lead of the gods’ poisoned gift to the newly married, stupid, trusting, beautiful young wife.
A-N-D let us not forget, that Pandora and I have another thing in common. Here, have it in the words of Greece greatest and ancientest (if there is such a world)

It was well for Pandora that she opened the box a second time, for the gods, with a sudden impulse of compassion, had concealed among the evil spirits one kindly creature, Hope, whose mission was to heal the wounds inflicted by her fellow prisoners.
"Hope sole remain'd within, nor took her flight,
Beneath the vessel's verge conceal'd from light." Hesiod (Elton's tr.)

And Hope is the straw we never stop grabbing at (and never will, I have a faint suspicion), and the emotion, habitual to all humans, which, as it well known, destined to die last inside us.

Well, all this was, actually beside the point; just couldn’t resist giving myself a few airs and graces (as ususal). And the ego massaging, therapeutically soothing side of epistolary exercise wouldn’t go amiss, of course. Might be turning into some kind of a writing junkie, as the need for my daily key-board rattling fix is visiting me with the alarming frequency of customary binges of devoted bulimia sufferer.

OK,then, back to the subject. Here is what my lengthy narrative was leading to. The box, received this very morning, filled with lovely little souveniers, I could fest my eyes upon, admiring their exquisite beauty time and time again.
That Sweetie Pie girl. That Marina, The Mermaid. She’s done it again. Reached from the land, far, far away, to wish me well and to touch my heart.

PS. Imaginativness of the below gifts could be only rivaled (BUT, OF COURSE) by those of incomparable and dazzling, wonderful Ms. DireHtor.



[IMG][/IMG]
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[Запись для всех] 22-11-2006 10:51
The steel reel.
To sidestep the chill winter conundrum without ceasing to sweat, here are two free 'n easy routines you can alternate week after week till I say stop. (Remind me after Christmas.) They’re designed for men and women, young and not-so-young, who lose focus, purpose, courage and commitment right about now. Did I mention muscle and might and self-respect?


JOYFUL DANCE WITH THE IRON # 1

Crunches and leg raises (2 sets x maximum reps, 15 to 20)

Flat bench dumbbell press (2 – 4 sets x 8 reps)

Close-grip pulldown (2 – 4 sets x 8 reps)

Sidearm lateral raises (2 – 4 sets x 8 reps)

One-arm dumbbell row (2 – 4 sets x 8 reps)

Machine dips (2 – 4 sets x 8 reps)


JOYFUL DANCE WITH THE IRON # 2

Stiff-leg deadlift and rope tucks (2 sets x 10 -12 reps)

Leg press (3 x 10 – 15 reps)

Calf raises (3 x 12 – 15 reps

Standing barbell curl (4 sets x 8 reps)

Pulley pushdowns (4 sets x 8 reps)

The idea of the iron tango is multi-faceted: to enjoy yourself and fulfill yourself, to build muscle and strength, to burn fat and diminish stress, to improve your health and wellbeing, to bolster your character and personality and to ready you for daily living and protect you from the enemy.

Thus, perform the moves with your eye on continuing practice and perfection of form. Push when passion arouses you and withdraw when inspiration ebbs. Be graceful, but accept an awkward misstep and occasional fall. Picking yourself up and carrying on are the most elegant movements you will make. Let them happen naturally.

There’s no room for negative thinking in our wonderful act, but it will, like the devil, impose itself upon us in the guise of monotony, weariness, doubt, disappointment and selfish desire. Don’t give in to the cheap tricks of forces over which we have growing control. To quit is to lose to the loser within. Remember that despicable creature? To carry on the good fight -- the dance -- is to avenge the hollow, damned beast.

Smile. The winds are onshore at 20 knots and the lucky old sun is high in the sky. Great day for gliding and soaring, take-offs and landings, or oiling and fueling your rig for another day.


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[Запись для всех] 21-11-2006 17:13
Chest do it!
Hard work spotlights
The character of people:
Some turn up their sleeves,
Some turn up their noses,
And some don't turn up at all.

Since I am already here, have the kind of sleeves that don't need turning up AND a snub nose to boot (should've been "BOOB", considering the subject of this entry) had no choice, but grin, bear and JUST do it.
Chest work out was planned for tonight and here is my "breast-taking" session.

1. Narrow grip dips(body weight). 4 X max.
2. Seated chest press. 6 X 15-20.
3. DB flat bench press. 6 X 15-20.
4. DB flyes. 6 X 15-20.
5. Declined press-ups. 4 X max.

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[Запись для всех] 20-11-2006 11:31
Who are you?
Who am I?... The "fairest of them all"?...

Depends on who you ask. Some see nothing more, than a mindless monster, an egotistical freak of nature to be pitied or feared. Others see a person guided by a singular purpose, on a mission of a life time. Who am I? As I stand under the hot light and look into the mirror, I see both: a beauty and a beast. But I also see a confused and anguished kid. A fat girl with a very little self esteem but with a clear idea in her head of what she one day will look like. A youth in search of a road.
I've since found that road and soon I'll know, how far I've gone and who next I'll become.
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[Запись для всех] 18-11-2006 13:15
What about cholesterol?
Yeah... What about it?

Here is an expert's take on the problem. Enter Dave Draper.

"There's an awful lot more to know about cholesterol than you'll get from tv, that's for sure, and probably even from your busy doctor. For starters, let's take a look at the good things—did you know cholesterol is vital for health?



These days, most people know their total cholesterol count; some know their LDL and HDL counts (although fewer know which is considered good and which bad); fewer know the more important ratio between the two basic cholesterol types; and fewer still know further breakdowns exist in each type, let alone know where their own blood levels fit in the mix.

In recent years a rift has grown between those who fanatically believe that low LDL (low density lipoprotein, the "bad cholesterol" is the most important element to heart health and those who believe it's not important at all. Like most things, the truth likely falls between the two points.

Experts agree high HDL (the high density, "good" cholesterol) is protective against accumulating cholesterol blockage in the arteries. Raising your HDL is a worthy goal; the safest, cheapest and healthiest way to do this is with exercise... all exercise, but cardio exercise in particular. Other methods include niacin or estrogen treatments and will require your doctor's guidance, so start by upping your cardio intensity, which may do the trick for you without pills of any type.


While there's some controversy over the importance of low LDL cholesterol levels, there's no doubt high LDL in combination with raised inflammatory markers is deadly. You've heard of these, but likely have not had the blood tests done as they're not ordered automatically: Homocysteine, C-Reactive Protein, Lipoprotein /a, Fibrinogen. In laymen's terms, high levels of these give the LDL cholesterol something to stick to. (Bad juju.) This would give you two things to address, or more: lowering both the LDL and whichever markers were high. Fortunately, the treatment can also be the same: cardio, niacin, other supplements, perhaps statins or other pharmaceutical at least in the short term if your LDLs are extremely high.

If you do go on statins (or use red rice yeast to test as a natural substitute), review the research on the need for supplemental COQ10, as both statins and red rice yeast stop the production of COQ10 in addition to LDL production.

What about diet and cholesterol? Maybe your spouse heard a low-fat diet is the best way to go. Is that right? Not necessarily. The only certain way to clear arteries is ultra-low calorie intake, but that, of course, leads to other problems. However, it's true: People who starve to death have arteries that are as "clean as a baby's."

Lowered cholesterol via a low fat or vegetarian diet will apparently work for about 20% of all people. It's not true for everyone and testing through trial and error would be the key because for many people a lower carb diet would be better. In fact, a low fat diet can be disastrous for the major part of the population.

Your diet and exercise trial-and-error process could take an entire year of testing, changing for six weeks and testing again. But if you persevere, you'll discover the answer that's right for YOU, instead of blindly following the ads on your nightly television programs.

But wait! Don't relax just because you get your cholesterol results back and are told everything's "normal."

Both HDL (good) and LDL (bad) cholesterol is made up of a range of different types of particles and for a majority of the population, particle type is the key issue. Within the LDL class there are A and B families of particles and within these families, seven types of particles. Everyone has a mix of particle types, but if your heredity leads to a higher range of the denser particles within the LDL class, you have a problem—even if your total cholesterol is low or your HDL/LDL ratio is good.


On the other hand, if your total cholesterol is high but the LDL "B" family particles are light and fluffy, this is a much less dangerous condition than having the "A" group paricles overpopulating your blood stream..

As you can see, this is a much more complex subject than simply getting your cholesterol lower than the suggested 200. Spend a Saturday afternoon researching the potential problem; get a clear picture of the issues discussed above and methodically go to work plotting the health of your arteries and what, if anything, needs to be done to increase your arterial condition."


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[Запись для всех] 16-11-2006 13:11
"Happy Birthday" Means Much More .......


To ME it does anyway. November is a very special month in my calendar. For I’ve got three friends, whose birthdays are neatly following one another, starting on the 13th. By a very strange coincidence all three of friends are females (“ladies” would be a better word for it), all are very different and interesting people and ALL (life could be VERY bizarre sometimes, could it not?) are called MARINA. The fact, that all three are Scorpios does deserve certain consideration as well. Even if it is for the sake of drawing attention back to myself (as always, ha!) and contemplating the weird side of my personality, which is clearly feeling the luck of adrenalin and is, quite obviously, trying to keep the level of excitement up by having dangerous and not such brief encounters with green-eyed, strong-willed, glamorous and slightly menacing relative of serpent. Or eighth sign of Zodiac, if you wish me to be astrologically correct.

Another interesting little detail: two of the acquaintances were made on the Internet, on the notorious site, called “Harbour”, thanks to my diary, which I started partly as a joke and partly out of desire to fill the horrible gaping void in my life and to, finally, conquer “mild” depression I was fighting for five years.(Don’t wish it on anybody, by the way, even in the mildest of forms.)

First of my crop of “autumn crocuses” was also my first “Harbour” correspondent, well-known to the more “vintage” site frequenters, as "Marina The Sweetie Pie". (13th of November). And, by another “fatal accident” she’s just happened to be the great co-thinker of mine and fitness freak. It’s a highest compliment you could ever hope to receive from the likes of exercise junkie, i.e. myself.
I wish my trans-Atlantic friend all the success in the world with all of her recent, current and future endeavours. She needs all her strength, will power and determination to get through the tough phase of her life. And who else, if not friends(real and virtual) would be there for her to provide support, to lend a hand and to surround her with warmth and comfort?

Second place in my very own Scorpio constellation belongs to my oldest and dearest friend, whom I’ve known, would be safe to say, all my conscious life.
We went to the kindergarten together; we attended the same class in the same school, shared all our childhood, teen-age and adult secrets, delights and tragedies Sometimes I wish she was my long lost twin sister (there were NEVER two people, who would’ve looked more differently, than she and I). Sometimes I even think she is. The only problem might be her birthday (14th of November), but what a couple of weeks could matter, if we are talking about soul mates?
Time have no mercy for anyone. Age alters everybody. And my childhood girl friend is no exception. But even if the skin have grown looser and the waist got thicker, even if the character’s flaws have become more apparent, and some are almost unbearable, for me she is still the same, skinny, spindle-legged, feisty little creature I had a fight with on my first day at nursery at the tender age of four. And that is how I will always see her with my mind’s eye.

And last, but, as you, probably, guessed, not least, is one of the most popular “Harbour”s “journalists”, the great lady of style, charisma and personality, whose birthday should be made a national celebration, Marina number three, aka Муся-Маруся (16th of November)

I feel very humbled by the impossible honour of counting this highly- esteemed dame amongst my friends. And very fortunate indeed should be everyone, who might enjoy the same blessing. For many people on this here site the kind word, the sharp warning, the sparkling humour, the funny “smiley” and sometimes simple silent presence of this woman, marked by the yellow “tick” on the “My dossier” page, have done (and will do) more, then all the moral lectures in the world could’ve done.
Hope the occasion permits me to quote the words of one of the Russia’s greatest and it is appropriate to join in the chorus of Volands' menagerie, Mr. Koroviev, Azazello and "astrachan" cat, named Begemoth (have to borrow heavily from classics, you know, as in this case can not trust myself to rely on my own, very limited, literally abilities ): “Муся, we are in AWE!!!”

Let me finish what you might consider little on-line banquette speech by a poem, dedicated to all three of the birthday girls.




"Happy Birthday" means much more
Than have a happy day.
Within these words lie lots of things
I never get to say.
It means I love you, first of all,
Then thank to all of you .
It means you mean a lot to me,
And that I'm proud too.

But most of all, I guess it means
That I am thinking of
Your happiness on special day,
With pleasure and with love.

And here is the actual banquette itself. You will have to forgive me, my dearest name sakes, that the sweet feast was not lovingly prepared in my own, longed for and dreamed of, elegant bakery cum patisserie, but there are enough cakes on the menu to satisfy even the most demanding and delicate of the tastes (Welcome, the guest of honour, Miss DireXtor!!!)





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[Запись для всех] 15-11-2006 11:58
SMOOTHie OPERATOR.
And don’t even have to fly from “LA to Chicago” to call myself that. Short trip from the gym to the canteen and back only, provided my somewhat limited financial sources stretch as far, as one pound forty five pens, will result in slightly shamefaced and marginally embarrassed “best fitness instructor in the world”, sitting at the computer desk, rattling the key-board frantically and slowly, luxuriously guzzling thick, rich. sweet, fruity tasting liquid from the plastic bottle. Label on the front reads “Super foods” and is, very obviously, made out of recycled paper, judging by rough surface and dungy colour. Well, as to be expected from a company with an “organic” approach and “green” reputation.
No, I am not drinking “Body Shop”s face and body lotion from their “Summer fruits” range. The exotic concoction I am consuming at the moment, for the want of any other decent energy snack in the “Mirror”s cafe, is a SMOOTHIE, containing pomegranates, blueberries and ocai (whatever the Hell it might be). Quite delicious and also, as the back of the label proudly states, “is a bit special; contains high level of antioxidants and provides a big boost for your body’s natural defense system as well, as giving it a gentle detox”. Hope it’s not going to start the process too soon for, I’ve got a Step class in twenty minutes time and wouldn’t want unpleasantly surprise my gym members by the effect of too rapid cleansing and detoxication while getting through the tricky business of “basic steps” and “horse shoes”.
Another little problem is: the drink has 18 grams of carbohydrate per 250 mls of smoothie. A bit too sweet and sickly for somebody, who supposed to be carb-free for the third day on the row. My only excuse is the name of the drink. It’s called “Innocent”. And whatever nutritional crime might’ve been committed by getting a “sugar boost”, I consider receiving an absolution in the same bottle.
Guilt free, energized, and having the two for the price of one.

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[Запись для всех] 13-11-2006 15:18
What's the name of the game?



Does it mean anything to you?

Guess not, but, as it transpired, it means a lot to me (going to cost even more, I fear.) Either that, or else, I might be simply very impressionable, gullible, taking the bait too easily, or, having suspended with the inner self deprecations, one could simply define my actions, as “rising to the occasion” and “accepting the challenge”.
Anyway, outlined below is my Master Plan, designed to induce an extreme growth in the first two months of it, and to achieve the contest condition in the next three. The end product should represent highly defined, ripped to the bone, still full and hard bod with cuts and striations everywhere. In short: the works.

"Can you feel it the way I do?" Hope nobody else will suffer the way I am going to. No one else is going to walk around from New Year till mid-April, hungry, tired, vexed and irritable for twelve weeks on the row, with very little motivation in heart to stick to the regime and almost no incentive in mind to keep the body on the straight and narrow and NOT breaking away from the routine.





November - December period. Mass gaining phase.

Six meals a day. Cycled carbohydrate diet. 3+1. Every fourth day is a “carb loading” day.
Source of carbs – ANY.

Cardio – 2 X 45minutes sessions of X-training per day, five days a week.



From January onwards. Leaning out phase. In three weeks segments.


First 3 weeks.

Six meals a day. Two of the carbohydrate variety. One – oatmeal, one - rice. One hundred fifty grams of carbs in total.
Protein sources – eggs, turkey breasts, turkey mince, fish. Protein drink after training.
Cardio. 2 X 45 mins. sessions of X-training six days a week.

Second 3 weeks.

Six meals a day. Carbs – once a day. Oatmeal. Hundred grams in total.
Proteins – eggs, turkey breast, turkey mince, fish. Protein drink after training.
Cardio. 2 X one hour X-training sessions six days a week.
One cheat meal a week on Saturday.

Third 3 weeks.

Six meals a day. NO CARBS. Proteins – eggs, turkey breasts, fish. Protein drink.
Cardio. Six days a week. Substitute morning X-training session by jogging outside for 45 mins.
One cheat meal a week on Saturday.

Fourth 3 weeks.

Six meals a day. Proteins – eggs (once), turkey breasts(once) and fish(four times a day). Remove the protein drink.
Cardio. Every day. One hour of jogging in the morning, one hour of evening X-training.
NO cheat meals.

Resulting product will be presented in this here diary on 5th of April 2007 (I’ll give myself four days for “carbing up”.)

This is my final word and you might consider it a threat. NOT a promise.


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[Запись для всех] 09-11-2006 10:30
MEATYlicious.
With the publishing of my (well, sort of, MINE) gorgeous picture (courtesy of the well-known Web-Designer cum Artistic DireXtor) the move, I’ve been cowardly avoiding to make, has finally presented itself in all its’ urgency and inevitability. What’s the general idea, some might ask. Well, it’s nothing new really. Whack yourself in shape, start working on the definition, bring out hidden silhouette, sort out the game plan and welcome the clean and boring to the back teeth business of “drying, cutting, ripping and striating” (some hope!)
Having not done this kind of dieting down for a long time, I’m now venturing into the minefield, perhaps, less boring, but far, far more dangerous and complicated: finding THAT kind of motivation. For, everything else is not a rocket science, and you don’t have to be a pointy-eared Volcan (or even Captain Kirk, for that matter); and no Scotty is required to “beam you up” into the state of total discipline and concentration, where the training and eating are concerned. These “meat and potatoes” of bodybuilding are nothing new to me, part of my flesh and blood, and, as such, it JUST might be, that lately I’ve been a bit too relaxed, LAXED even, if the whole truth and "nothing but…” to be told. And there is a tiniest of possibilities that for the first time in years I started viewing my physical state, as given, and taking my body for granted. A few trustworthy, reaching this part of my narrative, could be let in on the secret: I haven’t done a proper cardio for about two month now. And by PROPER I don’t mean walking those blessed 7 miles to and from work twice a week. What this term constitutes for me, as well, as for any other serious, determined gym body, is two 45minutes-to-one hour cardio sessions per day, EVERY day of the week, for about 12 to 18 weeks. Well, what else did you expect: we are talking contest shape here, aren’t we?
Here, I’ve said it. The dreaded “C” word. The ”CONTEST”. The “COMPETITION.” The big, shiny, glorious goal, the Holy Grail of any “pumping artist”. Even if it’s quite clear for our proverbial gym rat, that he or she will never be on that stage, under the hot, sharp, unforgivingly bright overhead lights, sweaty, achy, smothered in oil and fake tan, presenting the product of years and years of insanely hard work and utter dedication – that body, covered only by a pair of tiny posing trunks or minuscule bikini; flexing, grunting and panting, subjected to the harsh scrutiny and brutal criticism of the judging panel; even then, deep down, in our most hidden and harboured dreams, we’ve all made it there, to the very top of the Mount Olympia, with screaming crowds of funs, dazzle of photographers’ blitz, pending magazine covers, beckoning endorsing contracts, coveted Sandow Trophy in one hand and Joe Weider… erm…, in the other.
See what I mean? Where am I supposed to attain this kind of stimulus and incentive to keep my head filled with images of, oh, such a sweet victory AND above the water at all times; and my eyes fixed firmly above horizon, on the sparkling star of burning desire. “Might not have strength, guts or drive for it any more”, the chicken of the thought occurred not once to yours truly, since that fateful morning, the parcel from Israel, containing my birthday nude portrait, was handed to me by a very cheerful, having-not-a-care-in-the-world post man of Moroccan origin. If only he knew, what a can of worms his delivery would open.
Speaking of worms (well, it is protein, is it not?), and chicken (my preferred source, actually), AND meat and potatoes (see above), since Monday I’ve been eating almost nothing else, but…No, it didn’t mean I’ve been stuffing my self with “jungle deluxe”: worms, maggots and other creepy crawlies. It’s been eggs in the morning, fish in the evening and meat, meat, meat for the rest of the day. All I’ve got to do now is stick to my guns till early spring (somewhere in mid-April, my rough estimate will be), as promised to the source of all my trouble, vividly creative and extravagantly imaginative Ms. DireXtor, and try NOT to refer to my every three hours meals, as “dog’s dinner”, more, than once a day. The only hope is, that even if my fears of turning barking mad toward the end of the process are not entirely unfounded, there is a little juicy bone of a bonus in all of it: I’ll still be as fit, as a butcher’s dog.


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[Запись для всех] 07-11-2006 15:38
Controlled catabolism for max anabolism.
During any period in which calorie expenditure is greater than calorie absorption, a catabolic (tissue wasting) state exists. (DUH!) Not many people know that such a state also induces an anabolic environment. (HUH?)
That’s right, boys and girls! Catabolism creates the best environment for freak status growth. This is due to the body’s survival response during which all kinds of enzymes, intermediates, hormones, and receptor-sites are up-regulated to store and utilize every possible nutrient absorbed as, or within, metabolically active tissue (protein based, like, uh, muscle!)
Have you ever noticed, what happens, when a competing bodybuilder diets for weeks and months to get body fat levels down to 3-4% or so, then face-slams anything that doesn’t eats him/her first about two seconds after final judging? What happens? For about 14 days body weight increases at an incredible speed with no or very little fat gain.
The body reacts positively to most stimuli for 14-21 days before initiating counter measures.
Remember: The body seeks homeostasis? It is also paramount to realize, that we grow (or not), as a result of what we ABSORB, not due to what we EAT. During controlled catabolic period we create the ability to absorb, transport and utilize amazing amount of calories.

CONTROLLED CATABOLISM.
Training/Daily calorie Decreases utilized.

DAY 1. Chest. Cut 500 calories from the diet.
DAY 2. Back. Cut 250 more calories from the diet.
DAY 3. Legs. Drop 250 calories yet again.
Day 4. Arms. Calories remain constant from this point through DAY 11.
DAY 5. 4 X 30-45 mins. Aerobics sessions throughout the day.
DAY 6. Repeat DAY 1.
DAY 7= DAY 2.
DAY8 = DAY 3.
DAY 9 = DAY 4.
DAY 10 = DAY 5.
DAY 11. Complete rest.

"Freaky monkey type love" sex with partner is encouraged greatly throughout the whole of 11 days period.

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[Запись для всех] 05-11-2006 17:09
By popular demand.
[диреХтор-2]

требую обнародование "Бабы"!



DireXtor, dear, you ARE the best. Thank you for my lovely birthday present!!!
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[Запись для всех] 02-11-2006 11:19
Puss in the Boots.
What is it with women and shoes? The moment you get on the subject of “just one more pair” you’ll instantly understand, what makes men and women so different. It’s only for us the shoe could (an DO) become an all-consuming obsession.
Shoes can cost a fortune; but while the money itself can’t always buy happiness, a pair of new shoes can give a lady a real high. Unlike clothes shoes have a distinct advantage. Whether you are fat or thin, short or tall, beautiful or ugly, you can buy all the shoes your heart desires. They are capable of making you feel sexy, elegant or sporty at the single stroke.
It was said, that due to a pair of boots Joan of Arc ended up burned at the stake. Apart from poking her long nose into thorny theological questions she was in the habit of donning the kind of footwear, which in those days was entirely the preserve of men: the boots. (Women, responsible for domestic chores, wore little cloth slippers.)
Thanks Goodness, the Medieval Era is well and truly behind us, and modern day “substance abusers” don’t have to rely on their social status any more to be allowed to put on that “epitome of feminization”.
This is, actually, what I was up to yesterday, after work: feeding my almost starved do death addiction and treating my inner child (goes by the name of Imelda Marcos, and has a sympathetic shoe junkie twin in almost every female I’ve ever met.)
On the serious note, though, it wasn’t that I felt the right time has come to update my collection. The simple truth is: I currently found myself in the situation, when, with the cold weather approaching I’ve, literally, “nothing to wear”. To put it even plainer: “The needs must.”
And after two hours of roaming the shops on ever so busy, overpopulated, crowded and noisy shopaholics’ kingdom also known as Oxford Street, today I am proudly displaying two feet comfy snuggled inside the perfect pair of boots. Made in Brazil, black, below the knee, soft, as a glove and light as a feather. Now feel, like a Miller’s Son from Perrault’s Fairy Tales : ”young and straight of limbs”. And, like his sly suited and booted furry companion, might even start fancying myself “a personage of great importance, and give up hunting mice, except for amusement”.

Well, the do say “If the shoe fits, wear it!” don’t they?


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[Запись для всех] 31-10-2006 15:48
TruLEE, madLEE, deepLEE.
Now, here are a few long overdue pictures from LEE PRIEST's Seminar in the Muscle Limit Gym (on 23rd of October 2006). Needless to say, that the great man (all 5 feet 4 inches of him) lived up to all my expectations, inch for inch, pound for pound (the whole 231 of them, or for those of you, who are not familiar with the Imperial System - hundred and five kilos).
I was a good girl, and managed not to forget to buy the new pack of batteries for the photo camera and even remembered to charge the camcorder overnight in case I would be able to overcome my well-mannered shyness (ha-ha!) and film a little bit with Lee’s kind permission.
It turned out I was the only camera man (woman, rather) in the gym, and now am a happy and proud owner of the full length, 53 mins., quite professionally made, record of the Seminar. First time ever and VERY impressive, even if I say so myself.

There were few interesting, funny and even moving moments at the session, but this particular one gets my vote.

Question.

" Lee, are there anybody you could call your inspiration in life? Anyone you are looking up to?"

Lee (Answer).

"Well… Anybody over five feet five, really..."

Could you call the man anything but TotalLEE Awesome One?









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[Запись для всех] 30-10-2006 15:21
An opportunity in disguise.
Well, this is what failure is known as. It might be so for some, but I, apparently, do not belong to the happy, optimistic army of more fortunate or opportunistic folks.
Don’t ask me WHAT this is all about. It’s simply one of my lower moments in life, when, uncharacteristically, I’ve lost my bounce, and started feeling, like a complete loser. Outwardly, I am OK, still happy and smiley, and the front, I am presenting to the world at the moment is my usual cheerful self. I am a good actress and a very plausible liar. Always have been, always will be. Only this "outstanding" qualities of mine and the firm believe, that your personal issues should remain hidden inside you, and not be nosily publicised at every suitable moment, kept me from enjoying a very loud break down, wallowing in the sea of misery, ocean of mucas and drowning in the pool of my own tears and snot (Yuck! What a thought.)

It also might be, and have been pointed out more, then once to me (by some shady characters of Mongolian-Russian-Jewish descent), that I’ve got intimacy issues, fear of bodily contact, have snobbish tendencies and am unreasonably private person. (All true, by the way, but that’s a completely different story altogether.)

Well, nothing new, really. We all feel, like complete failures from time to time, and now is my time to do the stock-taking, to clear up the mess, to cut my losses short and to start moving on. Trivial, as it sounds, life does go on, and, come to think about it, FAILURE is just another F-WORD.

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[Запись для всех] 29-10-2006 07:50
))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

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[Запись для всех] 24-10-2006 09:20
" LIFE'S GREATEST GLORY IS...


... NOT in never falling, but, instead, it's rising every time we fall."


(By the bodybuilding's Rumbling Freak, Mr. Gregg Valentino.)
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 20-10-2006 14:35
A modern day adventure of Little Red Riding Hood.

.... NOT by Charles Perrault.

....." Once upon a time

there was a little village girl (all grown up female gym manager, actually), the prettiest that had ever been seen (Have to agree with the above statement. Sounds EXACTLY, like me.) Her grandmother was very fond of the grand child, and made her a little red hood, which became her so well, that everywhere she went by the name of Little Red Riding Hood". (NOT true. Not waiting for gift from anybody, bought it myself, my white-snow-flakes-on-the-bright-red-background, knitted Peruvian hat.) One grey and damp October Friday morning Little Red Riding Hood set off to the train station, at five a.m., full of determination to get to work on time and to do her best to last through 13-hours double shift in the gym, despite the remains of heavy cold and horrible chesty cough.
“ On her way through the woods she met Old Father Wolf. He would have very much liked to eat her, but dared not do so on account of some woodcutters who were in the forest. He asked her where she was going. The poor child, not knowing that it was dangerous to stop and listen to a wolf said: “I am going to see my grandmother, and am taking her a cake and a pot of butter which my mother has sent to her."
Actually, the Old Father Wolf was quite young – in his late twenties, was walking the same way – to the train station, and, judging by the conversation, he tried to strike with Little Fitness-crazy Red Riding Hood, was not far from pouncing on a lonely female with an honorable intention of taking her out on at least a lunch date (or so he said). He must’ve been after some food, then, poor fella, one way or the other. No cakes, pies, or butter though in the Riding Hoods basket, or, rather, huge, bursting at the seams rack suck, how unfortunate for the unlucky bugger. No woodcutters either, anywhere in the vicinity of the eyeshot. And as for danger – being thoroughly modern and wise young lady, Little Red Riding Hood always carries around a can of “ExMark” (anti attack spray) and a personal alarm, after one unfortunate traveling incident a few weeks back.

Within the short stretch of their journey together, the Wolf managed to introduce himself (“Alex”), to compliment Red Riding Hood on her headgear (“Great hat.
V-v-v-v-e-e-e-e-r-r-r-y-y-y C-U-T-E”), to find out a bit about lady’s occupation and even to wangle himself a few guide lines on the best diet-and-exercise routine, “if I want to shift that spare tyre of fat off my midriff”.

Once on the platform, and then on the train, Little Red Riding Hood just started feeling more, like herself again (for Alex, The Wolf, suddenly remembering, that he forgot to buy a newspaper and a “cupoftea”, dived into the station’s cafe. Well, with no Grand Maman to gobble up in sight, who could blame him? ), when somebody plopped themselves onto the seat next to her, and a deep voice with the American accent said right into her ear: ” Great hat. V-e-e-e-e-r-r-r-r-y-y-y-y C-U-T-E... Where did you get it from?” Another predator, big, purring, exotic and, this time, mature, jumping on the naIve child out of nowhere and without even a “Toc Toc” knock, or an invitation to “Pull out the peg and the latch will fall.” Not even pretending to wear Granny’s bonnet and spectacles (or is it always supposed to be sheepskin, where the wolves are concerned?)

Because if the knock was executed and the “pull the peg” permission grunted, the original Perrault’s scenario might’ve been repeated one more time. Have a read. Just to recup.

“ Little Red Riding Hood drew out the peg and the door flew open.
When he saw her enter, the Wolf hid himself in the bed beneath the counterpane.
“Put the cake and the little pot of butter on the bin,” he said, “and come up on the bed with me.”
Little Red Riding Hood took off her clothes, but when she climbed up on the bed she was astonished to see how her grandmother looked in her nightgown.
“Grandmother dear!” she exclaimed, “what big arms you have!”
“The better to embrace you, my child!”
“Grandmother dear, what big legs you have!”
“The better to run with, my child!”
“Grandmother dear, what big ears you have!”
“The better to hear with, my child!”
“Grandmother dear, what big eyes you have!”
“The better to see with, my child!”
“Grandmother dear, what big teeth you have!”
“The better to eat you with!”
With these words the wicked Wolf leaped upon Little Red
Riding Hood and gobbled her up. “

If we were forced to analyse this particular part of the fairy tale, basing our judgement on modern views, standards and criteria, Monsignor Charles Perraults would’ve been branded a secret pedophile, his PC (quill pen) would’ve been seized by police on the pretext of being examined for child porn content; his files (parchments) would’ve been either confiscated and destroyed, or published, heavily censored, to make him a public example and to install fear into any likely future offenders. Miserable French narrator would’ve seen his legacy “burnt at the stake”, metaphorically speaking, of course, and would’ve, probably, found himself doing a little bit more, then just harmless “community service”. This is how paranoid and scared our society has become in the last twenty years. But, honestly, there is so many sexual innuendoes and double entendres in that last scene, that I, myself, can’t help, but wonder…
All of this, however, is beside the point, for my ”carbon copy of the fairy tale adventure" had a far more prosaic end. The Wolf Number Two (should have upgraded him to at least a Panther, really, voice an’ all), apart from learning Red Riding Hood’s name, tried to get her telephone number and “let’s meet for a coffee” date. Both were politely, but firmly declined by cautious and smart brave little…, erm…, girl (Moi, in case you've got any doubts, as to whom the noun might be reffering). For, even if the original “Red Riding Hood”s ending might seem almost comically pornographic, the moral of it still stands.

***********************

"Moral.

Little girls, this seems to say,
Never stop upon your way.
Never trust a stranger-friend;
No one knows how it will end.
As you’re pretty, so be wise;
Wolves may lurk in every guise.
Handsome they may be, and kind,
Gay, or charming never mind!
Now, as then, ‘tis simple truth—
Sweetest tongue has sharpest tooth"

**********************************

Actually, while marching down the steps of the escalator, the words of my own, somewhat army-rhymed, “moral” kept popping unbidden into my head.

“If you’re Lil’ Red Ridin’
Hood,
Men are very easy
Loot.
Boys will queue to lick your
Boot.
Scary wolves will follow
Suit”.

**************************

THAT’S ALL, FOLKS.

PS. By the way, there is no hidden sexual meaning in the phraze "...to lick your boot". For the word "BOOT" is used by Little Red Writing Hood literally: something to adorn your feet with, made out of leather (black, shiny, soft and patent kind is preffered, but not essential) and NOT in the sexual context "BOOTY" some people with a jaded palate might attached to it (soft, round, perky and firm rear part of the female anatomy).

Now, THAT is really ALL, folks.
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[Запись для всех] 19-10-2006 15:16
The Autumn in haiku.
My way -
no-one on the road
and it's autumn, getting dark
(Basho, trans. Marsh)

Beyond the crossroads
deep into autumn
the hillroad disappears
(James Norton)

There is nothing else I can do;
I walk on and on.
(Santoka, trans. Stevens)

Scarlet Virginia's flame.
Moss on the brick wall.
Autumnal etude.
(My own. No translation needed.)
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 16-10-2006 15:26
Breast of friends.
We’ve been together for a long time now, me and my breast. I remember them, since I was ten years old. Almost three decades , or soon will be. I love them very dearly, take good care of them and keep them close to my…, erm…, chest. This is the kind of closeness you can’t ignore or fake, and it requires a lot of maintenance: comfortable bras (absolutely NO padding or wiring); plenty of quality moisturiser with high enough SPF to keep my cleavage smooth and wrinkle-free and, of course, best of the best – non surgical, iron induced, once every 10 days, “boob job”. The sort of a treatment only given in one place in the world – the gym.
This is my Sunday chest work out I still went ahead with, despite some major problem with my plumbing cum respiratory system: somebody seemed to have left a tap open inside me somewhere, and it kept my nose running and eyes watering. (Could’ve been a case of a common cold, come to think about it.)

1. Peck-deck. 5 X 10-15.
2. Flat DB bench presses. 5 X 8-15.
3. Inclined Smith chest presses. 4 X 10-15.
4. “Hammer Strength” seated chest presses. 5 X 10-15.
5. Standing cable cross-overs (pulling from the top). 4 X 12-15.
6. Dips. Body weight. 2 X max.

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 13-10-2006 09:14
Draper here… Exercise and Strength -- Seasonal Creativity



This week we had our first visit of long-puss weather; that is,
grouchy mornings, grim skies, cranky temperatures, terse afternoons
and nasty night falls. It wasn't long before I noticed I was grouchy,
cranky, grim, terse and nasty and wearing a long puss. Driving to the
gym was a treat. I did not want to go; I was stiff, I was listless,
uninspired and truculent, but I wasn't about to skip my cheery
workouts.

Attitudes are adjustable and behavior controllable. The weather might
be dreary and unchangeable, but you can refresh yourself by rising
above displeasure, thinking clearly, focusing on hope, emphasizing the
positive and deemphasizing the negative, confronting challenge,
appreciating your abilities, being thankful for all things and, of
course, blasting it with vehemence. The gloom is merely a thin
vaporous cloud between you and the glow of the sun, and no match for
grins, smiles and laughter. I know that, you know that, yet we need to
be reminded.

Walking into the gym on days such as these is like swallowing dear
ole' Granny's medicine. It has to be done. It's bitter, goes down slow
and mean and we dare not spit it out. Ah, but there's more. The first
set is like setting broken bones, the second set is like pulling
teeth, the third is like walking on fire and the remaining bad boys
are not exactly easy. None of them are easy, they're not supposed to
be, and soon you're on a roll. Before long you're rockin' and rollin'
and recallin' why you come to this place and do this stuff. It warms
your body, brightens your mind and restores your soul. It causes the
sun to shine and gives light to the darkness.

I'm just making noise and talking out loud, bombers. I felt a
recognizable slump in my heart, mind and back at the first sign of
fall and winter and reacted by submitting, a natural involuntary
reflex. I momentarily considered the first steps down a long, cold and
slippery path: Bulk up (get fat), crawl into my sweatshirt (conceal
the body) and keep the mittens handy (get comfy), slow down, seek
power and low reps (withdraw), hunker down and lick my wounds (hide
out), save my intense training for next spring (procrastinate), remind
myself everyone gains a few cold-weather pounds in the off-season
(excuse), greet the holidays with open arms and mouth (overindulge)
and forgetfully allow my gym membership to lapse (neglect).

Simultaneously, as if in reaction to my reaction, I felt the need to
respond with action before I submitted to my weak reaction. Or, to put
it another way, I decided to ignore convention, resist conditioned
response, reject society's choice, stray from the norm and part from
the way of the masses. It was very close. I'd plow a different road.

In the flash of the moment I concocted PASS (Principle of Always
Spring 'n Summer), an imaginative year-round training methodology. The
weather will not dictate my training, eating, attitude and behavior
any more than I shall dictate the weather, its temperature,
precipitation and capricious nature.

In truth, I'm plowing the same old road -- the one that works --
restoring it, clearing it of debris and loose grave. That's different!
What more can I do?

Change the methodology? Not much. You think there's something more
than the fundamentals? Train 3, 4 or 6 days a week, every bodypart
twice a week, 1, 2 or 3 exercises per bodypart and 3, 4 or 5 sets of
each exercise times 12, 10, 8, 6 reps, depending on training level or
goal. Done! Tweak occasionally. Train hard, eat right and grow.

Improve the technology? Hardly. One cannot fix that which is not
broken. There are a couple of dozen or so uncomplicated basic
exercises that can be mixed and mingled for maximum growth, and should
be taken advantage of for suitable periods of time to gain the maximum
each movement has to offer. Developing and extracting the most from
any exercise requires weeks of progressive- resistance repetition --
three to six or eight weeks -- as form, groove and overload are
sought. Excessive performance needs to be avoided – when movement
becomes stale and weight or reps become stagnant -- and this
determined by the inner guide within each lifter. Instincts are more
reliable than dear old Granny's medicine.

Hasten the training? What's the rush? Besides, haste makes waste.
Training pace should match the lifter's personality, unless he or she
is a slug, in which case he or she needs a personality adjustment, as
well as strength and health restructuring. Move according to your
healthy instinctive drive and not according to the hands of the clock
or the mutts around you. Be comfortable, focus, push hard and grow. Do
it again and again. It works.

Lengthen or shorten the workout? It's not the size or duration of the
training; it's the quality and intensity that counts. Too much time on
the gym floor does not necessarily mean lots of work or too much work
completed. Keep the training to the point, crisp, determined and free
of loose, floating time. Stop gabbing. Concentrate and prepare for the
next set. The only one you fool is yourself. Too little time suggests
hurry, insufficient weight-load per exercise, not enough exercises,
sets or reps or exercise substance. Think, feel and confront yourself:
I'm here. What do I want? Is this enough work and am I training
intensely enough? Listen and learn.

Old Chinese proverb: You only getti outti what you putti inni.

Increase or decrease the load? Time has a way of dictating that
variable and it's in the hands of the lifter to invest maximum muscle
intensity in all exercises, each set and every rep. Therein lies the
correct effort to exert.

There is, however, much to be said about true bulking up -- heavy
workouts, heavy yet healthy eating, and consistent and dedicated
training intensity -- to achieve muscle size, density, balance, shape
and power. Mostly a guy thing, it works for the committed
musclebuilder. And the grumpy months are the months best suited for
this broad and robust training approach. Getting huge intentionally is
fun. Did I mention this is for guys mostly?

I'm not bound to sameness for the sake of sameness, or out of fear of
change, or like some who are bound to millstones or bad habits. There
are only a few entrances to the castle or fortress, shed or pup tent,
or whatever your dwelling place resembles. Why repel from a hovering
helicopter, dig an underground tunnel or access the structure by storm
with an armored vehicle when the front, side and back doors are wide
open? They might not be original, but they're handy. What the heck.
Don't knock, just barge right in. Honey, I'm home!

Apply the obvious movements -- the nuts and bolts of musclebuilding --
but be creative in your training approach, your workout engagement and
your exercise execution. Be totally present; expect much from every
exercise, set and rep and don't regard them as redundant, imitative
and dull, or as tedious work that must be done. These are the tools
that build the body and you're the skilled and calloused worker
wearing the hardhat. Push that iron, lift that steel.

You think you're focused? Focus deeper, so deep you feel each
exercise, set and rep as if they were hot flesh, warm blood and
flexing bone. You feel pain? Don't fight it, chase it away or try to
ignore it. Concentrate on the fierce condition and, if it is not a
black and blue preamble to injury, grasp it and know it and pursue it
till it takes you to the end. Pain's a bully, but knows its way
around. Riding its back affords the only shortcut I know.

You have better things to do? What's more important than improving and
protecting your health, strength and character in a world where these
are rare, yet absolutely critical to life and limb -- yours and your
family's and your community's? You can't buy them; you can only earn
them and, thus, deserve them.

Have you noticed when you fly high enough and long enough you forget
where you're going and where you've been? Good thing my craft is no
larger than my imagination and I can land it anywhere and on a dime.

Heads up, bombers, I'm puttin' this baby to bed... Dave Draper

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 12-10-2006 11:50
You've been F-R-A-M-E-D!!!
..."On your marks… ...

Camera… A-a-a-a-a-a-a-n-d … ... ACTION!"

You wish. Cameras, in my experience are even more capricious and temperamental, than the movie stars themselves. In the case of our first amateurish attempt of home film production, where the role of the First Lady Of The Digital Screen was brutally dumped on MY fragile, undeveloped shoulders, and Alex, very manly, assigned himself with The Man Behind The Lens' responsibilities, the scenario was slightly different.
The DIVA (I leave it up to you to guess, whom I mean) behaved impeccably, obeing all the Director’s commands and orders, like a well trained mongrel, grateful for being rescued from the Pound and devoted to the Savour to the last "woof": poised in front of the camera gracefully enough to turn the Primas of Bolshoj green with envy; turned her head at all the right angles to achieve “the most fluttering effect”; grinned with thousand watts mega smile, capable of putting even Ms Letter-Box Mouth, Julia Roberts herself, to shame. And, finally, pumped and pulled and pushed without a hint of a sigh, or grumble, or moan, or complaint. Yes, I WAS a real star. More brownie points to me, if you consider the sorrow state of my health last night, the fact, that the filming took place in the gym, AND, that the muscle group in question was none the other, then L-E-G-S.
Our blessed (or cursed) camcorder lasted through all the “light” stuff: drive to the gym, parking lot, reception, friendly bunter with the owner behind the bar, a few views-over from different points of the room; the start of the work out - calves training. But then, when we get really serious, the heavy sh***t started, when the weights went up, the heaving and panting ensued, the delicate nature of the “equipment” decided it’s had enough. First the message “Change the battery pack” appeared on the window in the fetching, if somewhat alarming, red lettering. After that, since Alex, just forcing me into the heaviest last set, all deep in throws of excitement and creativity, didn’t pay any attention, neither to my suffering, or to HER’S ( I mean CAMERA’S, of course), continued filming, crying out loud with my every rep: ” Go on! Slower! Extend! Hold! No cheating! Keep your knees straight!”, the poor thing, appalled at such a rough treatment of both of us, took action into it’s own hands, curled up and promptly died on us without any further ado.

A-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-n-d … … CUT!


All this reminded me one more time just how unlucky (in the comical kinda way) we’ve been recently, where any machinery might be concerned.
On lovely Sunday afternoon my two men decided they’ve rested sufficiently to undertake the finishing of the porch' foundation. The long put aside job, which none or the other had time for during past three month. Alas, the eBay bought concrete mixer was of European origin and required and adapter to plug it in. Since they remembered “quite clearly”, that “we did have it”, “it should be somewhere here”, “no, there” and “ I could’ve sworn I put it on the bottom shelf of this cupboard” and still couldn't find it, the very merry show of turning the house up side down was in full swing for the only one VERY unamused spectator to watch - me. After about half hour of the haphazardous search they, finally,resortet to that all men’s all times' favourite, tried and tested: ”WHERE DID YOU PUT IT?!” No use saying, that I "DIDN’T EVEN SEE IT!!!” All you will get in return would run, like following : ” You ALWAYS hide EVERYTHING!” and “How many times do I have to ask you NOT to touch MY THINGS!!!" Don’t even try to get the message across of WHAT would’ve happen with this household, if it wasn’t SOMEBODY in it, who OCCASIONALLY find the room and space for all the junk, which you, MEN, are seem to be generating, as you make your progress through life. No point arguing your case. It will be lost. For you AND on them.
I found a simpler solution. The youngest of the two manual labourers was despatched to the DIY store with the tenner in his pocket and marching orders NOT to come back without an adaptor. He had his weekly exercise (bike ride), I had my fifteen minutes of quiet and Alex had his “lovely cuppa”. Well, if you are a Builder, better do the job right and be a proper one. Go the Whole Hog. Do the Full Monty: buttocks cleavage, “Sun”s Page three topless glamour models AND the ultimate pleasure of British Bob The Builder’s life – cup of tea.
After my boy was back from the shop, and newly bought adapter was fitted in, the whole circus started again: bloody mixing aggregate refused to do anything at all. There wasn’t a single sound from the machine. Not a flatter. Not even a murmur. Having danced around it for almost half an hour, exhausting all the tricks they could come up with (even the sort of “Casting the Rain Spell” tribal ballet. Looked great, by the way. I enjoyed it enormously!!!) and still NOT having produced any results, they decided ( M-E-N, they ARE so wise, aren’t they?) to take the mixer apart and “give it a good stirring from the inside out.”. And since my feeble protest, that the “mixers, like Bond’s martinis, will better serve shaken NOT stirred” only made them double their efforts, I retreated my steps to the sanity and sanctity of the kitchen. First thing I saw there was a discarded plastic package from the new adapter with the huge red lettering on the front “FOR SHAVERS O-N-L-Y.” No wonder the poor thing was resisting with all its’ might to my men's titanic, if fruitless, efforts of turning it into the “Barber of Seville” prop, and kept the grim resolve to stick with the only trade it knew and was designed for: concrete mixing. Then, completely accidentally and almost mechanically, I raised my arm and open the top kitchen cabinet. I store all my tea towels and cleaning cloths there. And here it was, right in front of me, the white, shiny, “proper”, “NOT for the shavers”, adapter, which THEY were so sure “they had” and “always kept RIGHT HERE, in this little space, IN THE TOOL BOX”!!!

Holding the little plastic box with accusing sign in one hand and recovered gadget in the other, I came out of the front door, on to the steps, called “Here is looking at ya, KIDS!” and silently raised both items in front of the astonished faces of my two “mechanics”.

Where IS the camera, when you most need it?

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[Запись для всех] 11-10-2006 09:30
THAT time of the month.
Two major bothers today.

Somebody is constantly screaming inside my head, over and over, like a broken record: “Just give the dangerous bitch her chocolates!!!”

Every now and then this morning, for no apparent reason, I would get that distinct "seventies throw-back" feeling, where “First, I was afraid, I was petrified ...”
And EACH TIME I would realize, with a start, that it’s only A MIRROR !!!

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[Запись для всех] 09-10-2006 16:21
The RIGHT kind of WRONG.
There are times, when you sit at the computer desk, in front of a blank Microsoft Pad, with the idea of your next epistolary master piece, perfectly formed and crystal - clear in your mind. But, all of a sudden, the realisation hits: the stuff pouring out on the screen is something you thought was never inside your head; the words and phrases; you rattle the key-board with, might be dictated by an alien brain-snatcher, so strange and foreign the appear. It’s, obviously, not going according to your plans; it’s the wrong kind of stuff, but why, then, does it feel so right?

I had the same experience last week end. After working six days a week for the whole month of September, and almost whole first week of October for 13 hours, first non-working Saturday and Sunday were planned from morning to night and packed with the “hot and heavy” action (cleaning, hovering, gardening, shopping, family quality time, building, etc.) to the last minute. Woe and disgrace on me, but I am not even going to deny, that half of the things on my “perfect house wife’s week end” list still remain un-ticked.
Instead, we spent two heavenly, lazy days almost entirely in the supine position in the garden, demolishing a huge baking fest I obsessively created all Friday afternoon, after shamelessly deserting work early, and leaving full responsibility of the gym managing resting on the strong shoulders of the capable if, slightly scruffy, and oh, so MACHO, Portuguese mobile instructor.
To get me into the training for bringing my “Rainbow Cake” patisserie shop one step closer, I had to turn myself into a sort of "Nigela Lawson crossed with Anthony Warrel-Tompkins" Domestic Goddess and produced two marble cakes, one carrot and orange cake and several sweet and savoury varieties of puff pastry: apple and cinnamon turn-over, variation of Danish with caramelized pear, pain au chocolate; and sort of spicy vegetable samosa with the pumpkin based filling. Yum!
Had a few problem with my temperamental oven and might’ve made even Mr. Gordon Ramsay shudder in his “Hell's Kitchen” from the amount of “informal” language used in my culinary domain, in order to make the bloody thing work. Comes highly recommended, by the way, for it’s the best AND instant relieve, even if it’s not going to fix your cooking range. Sort of a Spiritual Fist Kitchen Aid, like running cold water on to the burnt skin.
In between eating, watching a lot of light week end telly (Agatha Christie’s “Poirot” mostly), reading, drinking (a glass of red) and laughing at my son’s stupid SMSs to me
(“Mummy, U R aPOIROTently mad” and “Mum, R U better, or R U still POOOOIROTly?”) we’ve managed to nip to the gym twice, both on Saturday and Sunday (chest and legs); successfully conducted a weekly food shopping trip; and even finished laying out the foundation for the new porch in front of the house. As for the rest of the tasks, still hanging above my head Damocles-style, I am not going to let it bother me. It will be done, when the time is right. It done me the world of good, my two-and-a-half days of rest, for today, on Monday morning, I woke up with uncreased face, untroubled mind, “bright eyed and bushy tailed”. Even the clothes didn’t disappoint despite the prolonged and continuous “week-endual” gluttony: my tightest jeans went up my thighs without a single extra pull on my part and hugged my hips impeccably snugly. There was, oh, joy, oh, miracle, considerable gap between the trouser belt and my belly button.
Doesn’t it mean, then, that however wrong it all seem to look, I must’ve been doing something right?

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[Запись для всех] 04-10-2006 10:47
Sweet dreams are made of this...
Have to apologize to all the hard-core dieters out there, but since I am not one of you, guys, and, more over, since this is, actually, MY diary, felt partially justified in being obnoxious and unsupportive, at least as far, as current entry is concerned. I've always had a little dream of, one day, retiring from the BIG SPORT(ha-ha!) and opening my very own, very sweet little business. An elegant tea-and-coffee room, sort of a French or Italian Patisserie. With the glass-plated windows and a gold door bell, tinkling merrily every time a customer enters. Tiled floors, light furniture, cream and terracotta painted walls with the framed water colours and oils on them (all courtesy of my “Harbour” artists friends, of course), big green lamp shades above the polished oak counter, selection of home-made cakes and pastries behind an old-fashioned “vitrienne”(opening from the front kind), aroma of vanilla, cocoa and cherry essence in the air, jazz or classical music in the background (I do hate pop/rock/rap/metal and whatever else you might happen to listen to at the moment). And, surveying the scene from the vantage point behind the bar, like a conductor on the platform, hypnotizing an orchestra into submission; or, rather, like a stage manager, ticking things off with the colourful paper markers on the clip board, here I will be: big, plump, round-cheeked, hearty and condescending, beaming merrily at the friendly crowd below, enjoying my “naughty, but, oooooooh, so nice” produce.

Doesn’t sound believable? Not likely to bloody happen? Not in the million years? Goes at odds with everything I’ve thus far said and done? Contradict that mental image already imprinted in your mind, of fitness crazy, rigidly disciplined, strict routined, tough talking, no-nonsense lady?
Well, it just goes to show, doesn’t it, that you never really know anybody. I hope, that in your hearts of heart you will find enough kindness and benevolence to forgive me this little laps of the will power, small wavering of the thoughts and completely insignificant step away from my "chosen path of life"...
And if this is the case, then , who knows, in a year or two, you might become one of my regulars, stuffing your face happily with my cream doughnut (NO margarine. REALL extra-thick double cream. Whipped. AND the cherry on the top.), telling me all about your "dog of a boy friend", or a "bitch of a boss" AND "sod the diet!!!"
“I am going to gorge myself on this heavenly stuff and get incredibly fat, as a revenge to them all!!!”
Cosy, isn’t it? And not entirely unlikely, wouldn’t you agree?
Otherwise, in case you happened to be unreasonably cruel and totally unsympathetic to deny even the slightest possibility of all of the above ever come true, I’ve got “Plan B” to fall back onto. Gingerbread House is roomy enough to accommodate one more Witch in its’ fragrant cinnamon depth, AND there always will be one more Hansel or Greta to practice my culinary skills upon. (Don’t get scared, I am not THAT bad… … I am worse. Ha-ha!)

PS. I’ve got the sneaky feeling though, that the yellow brick road, leading to my Oz is still have some mileage in it. So, in the meanwhile, to get a better idea, what I am talking about, have a look at THIS
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[Запись для всех] 03-10-2006 08:40
The Road to Weight Loss.
Though I do hate the termin "WEIGHT LOSS", this article from the October issue of "Muscular Development" magazine pint-point the major steps of the process and outlines the essencial problems your regular dieter might run into.

"This year, many people will get tired of their MOBY THE WHALE bodies and decide to do something about it. The road to weight loss is wrought with perl. Much of the process is unplesant, and you can expect setbacks. Below is some good advice for dieters.

1. Weight loss is a long term process; do NOT expect quick results.
2. Plan your meals; spontaneous snacking is the kiss of death, when trying to lose weight.
3. Avoid starvation diets. The body reacts to the extremely low-calorie diets by increasing appetite and slowing metabolism, making it almost impossible to lose weight.
4. Anticipate set-backs. Expect to fall off the weight-loss wagon. When you do, gather your strength and get back on the program.
5.5Pat youself on the back. When motivation wanes, take time to relish in your successes. The road won't seem so long, when you appreciate, how far you've come.
6. Don't expect too much. Genetics largely determine your capacity to lose weight. Most studies show, that people can expect to lose about 15 to 20 pounds a year on the weight-loss program. You'll probably feel let down if you striving for more, than that.
7. You can and WILL be successful, if you keep at it and are consistent. Take it one step at a time and remember: YARD-BY-YARD IS HARD. INCH-BY-INCH IS A CLINCH."

(WebMDweight Loss Clinic, July 2006)
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[Запись для всех] 02-10-2006 11:35
Whatcha' Looking at?
The Bible, 1 John 3:18 NRSV: Bible Quotes
Let us love, not in word or speech, but in truth and action.


Other people get greeting cards full of nice words. I get looks...All kinds, all day long. It's like living in a cage. Different looks carry different sentiments. Some are friendly. Others are not.
Whenever I catch a side long glance from somebody new to the iron game, I remember, how I used to walk past my first gym at least twice a week. Such time I'd stop and look through the glass door, that separated me from the people training with incomprehensible weights. I was intimidated, but deep down I knew I belonged there. When I finally got the courage to join, I was at the bottom of the food chain looking up.

Today, when I look back and see my face as that young kid, who walked into the gym for the first time, I'll tell you, what I'd see. I liitle fear, mingled with something greater. Hunger... A face, burning with desire... A person, who had something to prove and wanted all the world to know it. In the years between I've learned a couple of things. First, the only one you have anything to prove to is yourself. Second, you can watch life with your nose pressed up against the glass. Or you can swing open the door and step inside.


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[Запись для всех] 29-09-2006 14:31
If you want to say it right, say it with the flowers.
Here is the start of my perfect week end. Flowers and chocolates, delivered to the Fitness Centre desk at lunch time and (listen to this!) addressed to your humble gym rat, and sent, personally, by our company's Boss. Mr. Chairman himself. With the card attached. "Thank you for helping us with the tender. From the directors at "Bladerunner".

All together now: "A-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h!!!"

I am flattered, of course, who wouldn't be in my shoes and in their right mind.

On the other hand (not,that I want to seem ungreatful), small pay rise on the top of floral arrangement and Belgian Pralines Assortment, would've been even more welcomed.


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[Запись для всех] 29-09-2006 14:17
Draper here… Weightlifting in Painsville, Land of Opportunity



I know life isn't all about me and you know life isn't all about you,
but it's a tough concept for most folks to accept. Truth is (it's so
obvious), you and I take care of ourselves so we are more able to take
care of those around us. We are extraordinarily generous and
considerate people, like a breed of our own. We lift weights that we
may lighten the load for our neighbors. We eat healthy foods that we
may care for the ill when they grow faint. We seek longevity because
someone must attend the aging and failing in their time of need. We
sleep, rest and relax with peace-loving diligence that we may serve
others tirelessly. We, through our consistent exercise, develop
discipline, patience and compassion, needed character qualities when
called upon by God and man to mitigate strife and negotiate peace.

Alas, there are envious and narrow-minded beings across our precious
planet who are unaware of personal responsibility and self-respect and
accuse us of vanity and self-centeredness. Of us they say we are
obsessed. We must understand their suffering, forgive them and try to
reach them through our noble purpose, stature and behavior. We must
work with them, for them and because of them, as we are all so vitally
connected. When our gracious attempts to draw them to the right way of
living and thinking fail, and ignoring them is unfair, immoral and
impossible, do not fret. Fretting is one of the devil's secret
weapons.

Let's face it; they're a bunch of bums and not worth the trouble.
They're weaklings! They make me so mad I wanna beat them with a stick.
They're the reason the world is falling apart. Don't get me started,
man. Who the heck do they think...

So, what did you do today to strengthen yourself -- improve and
enhance your body, mind and soul? I went to the gym a little earlier
than usual to beat the traffic and take more time pushing the iron --
less stress, more comfort, total contemplation, undivided
concentration.

The older I get, the less I hurry. I don't know if this is a motor
condition or wisdom or laziness, but I appreciate and enjoy and
respond to slower and more deliberate training movement -- between
sets and within each set and rep. This in no way suggests I'm slowing
down. Slowing down causes me to lose air under my wings, and I stall,
glide, hover, putt-putter and regain airspeed only to stall again and
land in a field far from home. I hate that... gotta drag my sorry hull
back to the hangar, dust off the ailerons and realign the landing
gear.

The barbell and dumbbells must be grasped more thoughtfully, the body
arranged more particularly and the groove established more precisely
in response to the persuasion of time, wear and tear. Each rep becomes
a carefully engaged step to the next rep, close attention determining
the way. The reps are calculated in reference to good pain and abusive
pain and the pain of wrath, a long and fascinating journey. The last
repetition comes as thunder following the lightening strike of the
prior reps. Don't you love a good storm... the fresh air, the strong
wind, the cool rain?

Concentration, the essential element of successful weightlifting --
and every great endeavor -- that primary ingredient I struggled to
attain is now as natural as the iron I move with certainty across the
floor. Where once my mind wandered and progress slipped through gaps
in my focus, I now cling to each rep as if joined by a sort of
musclebuilding crazy-glue -- devotion, affection, need and the
attention-grasping pain of persistence and burning and swelling.

The sets of repetitions are staggered according to my ability to go
on, my mood, the pain, the available energy and unhurried time, and
the flavor and favor of my purpose -- to build, maintain, rehabilitate
or revel. The pause between sets can last from 15 seconds to minutes,
depending on the exercise and mode of action. Squats and deads require
the most time, pressing and pulley work for back and lats require
medium time and supersetting smaller muscles -- bis ‘n tris -- require
the least time, until, of course, the intensity builds and pain in the
joints starts to holler. It was amid the latter experience that I
learned to eliminate hurry from my training program.

The between-set break is just long enough to prepare for the next
delightful and murderous onslaught: breathing deeply or gasping
deliriously, unwrapping and rewrapping, willing pain away, rearranging
equipment, hydrating. No gazing out the door, watching the sweeties go
by, reading magazines, creating or resolving conflicts. Mingling trite
activities with the serious action of weight training reduces it to
their levels, and exposes an intrinsic lack of desire, fire and need.
Choose another pastime, go back to school, get a job, flop on the
couch.

I'm a volume trainer who incorporates five sets of six to twelve or
eighteen reps of any particular exercise -- depending on muscle group.
I choose six or seven or eight exercises, apart from midsection, to
comprise a workout. Some might say, "That's it?" I ignore them and key
their cars and their family's cars. The intensity within each rep and
set of exercise determines the value of the workout, and its duration.
The first three sets, whether single sets or supersets, are vigorous
and without delay, each set increasing in weight and decreasing in
reps. Pain from wear and injury and burn heightens proportionately, as
does specific muscle fatigue. Sets four and five, the critical sets in
which hypertrophy is hunted down, begged for, manipulated or coerced,
require greater recovery time, slower execution and intensified
resolve. I slow down as the clock moves on.

That's the name of the game, girls. I'm quite chipper during the first
hour of my workout, all smiles, walking upright, looking sane and
acting sensibly. I'm bombing. It's the last hour or portion of an hour
when you can see the animal creep into my body. I think it's a hyena
or a species of orangutan or a gargoyle... I'm not sure, no one is.
Anyway, I slow down slightly due to the stooped posture, wall-hitting
fatigue and furtive glancing from side to side, all impediments to
form, focus and pace. I'm bombed.

Most of you know this stuff, but, hey, I'm sharing it again, which for
no plausible reason reminds me; I was reading in Ladies Home Journal
that training one muscle group a day is the way to go. Go where, I
asked myself. Across the street with the chicken that wanted to get to
the other side? Watch out for the 16-wheeler. They love chickens.

One bodypart a day is sufficient. It works. But I ask the basic
question, is it real weight training and musclebuilding, or is it an
organized, compromised, conventionalized, mechanized methodology for
the uninspired follower?

Let's see:

Chest on day one: works front delts and tris as well
Back on day two: works core and bis as well
Shoulders on day three: works tris, across upper back, more if
cleaning and pressing
Legs on day four: works the core and whole system
Bis or tris, or bis and tris on day five: works bis and tris with
added minor upper-body stimulation

Oh, well. Not bad... like canned soup. I'd eat canned soup if I was
starving or stranded on an island or was a 12-year-old at Camp Wannabe
for a week, or invited to a cheesy, unimaginative friends house for
dinner... or promised there was a pearl in the bottom of the can.
Umm, umm, good.

I like to weave and blend the muscles at work, direct a course and
follow my nose, paint a picture on a large canvas with all the colors
and space I need, go this way and that way purposefully with my eye on
the goal, and travel a straight line full of curves and adventure...
the concept, the notion, of training one bodypart a day is confining,
limiting, imprisoning.

Sidetracked again. I'm done. The animal within retreats. I make it to
my ride without assistance. There a premixed Bomber Blend restores my
vitality, appearance and soul. I can go home now.

A toast to all bombers, brave and bold...

Sky in your eye... Draper

POSTED NOTE

.........................................................

If we can effectively persuade a fraction of the over-50 crowd to in
some small way think and behave as we do -- to train hard, eat right,
be hopeful and speak truthfully -- we will enhance many lives. Think
about it: There will be less obesity and its accompanying diseases and
weaknesses -- low self-esteem, fatigue, vulnerability to illness and
injury, limited physical ability, heart failure and diabetes. As a
people we'll enjoy more fitness and its attributes -- self-confidence,
energy, strength, resistance to illness and injury, wellbeing,
stronger character traits with which to live daily life joyfully and
successfully.

We might have a movement on our hands. There'll be dancing in the
streets, fewer riots, more rational thinking, less hatred and
disagreement and stress and we can melt tons of assorted weaponry with
which to forge stores of Olympic bars and plates and racks. Paradise.

Hello. I'm daydreaming with daydreamers. It'll be nice if a handful
drop by and wish us well. Be ready, bombers... always.

Double D

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[Запись для всех] 28-09-2006 10:24
o,LEG, o,LEG, oLEG, oLEG!!!
No, I am not going to test your intelligence and refresh your memories by narrating the story of life and death of ancient Slavic prince Oleg. Nor am I trying to confront the animals right activists and fur-wearing/meat eating opposition with gruesome images of bull-fighting: blood splattered arena under pitiless sun, lithe sleek toreros with the snaky hips, tired, confused ferocious animal in the middle of sandy circle, exited spectators, drunk on violence, and, above it all, rising and falling, traditional cry of matadors: ”Ole!”
My story is a little bit more modern, than that of horse’s skull and killer snake; far less grizzly and, probably, a lot less exiting, then corrida, but it’s got all the necessary ingredients, required for both of the above events: apprehension, being faced with the unexpected, exactitude of calculation, challenge assessing, precision of execution, and loads of adrenalin.
The only difference is: so far I’ve been a lot luckier in my adventures, then noble Slav, or, erm,… … a bull. I get out of it just in time to stay alive till the next one.
Do not mistake me for your regular Indiana Jones wanna be either, for my hobbies do not include skull hunting or charging after the red rug, as the way to make time go faster from tea to dinner. My preferred path to fit it all into my life is a good old-fashioned hard core, iron enhanced, muscle thrashing. AKA resistance training.

To cut the long overture short and get back to the chase, last night LEG training (Did you get it, by the way? LEG –o,LEG; OLE!g. Pretty thin, I know. But feel the need to show off sometimes.) went according to the below plan.


Warm up.

X-trainer – 20 mins.


LEGs work out.

1. Leg extensions – 7X15-25.
2. Leg presses - 8X 15-25.
3. “Hummer Strength” squat machine – 6X12-15.
4. Horizontal leg presses - 6X 15-20
5. “Roman chair” weighted squats - 4Xmax.

As the result of voluntary torture and experimenting with very light/very heavy sets, this morning couldn’t even bear the thought of walking my usual 7 miles to work. Nevertheless, there is some life left in the old dog (bitch, ha-ha!) yet and, fully expecting to recover by 3 p.m., I am still going to brave the walk home from work. And if you ask me, life is fine in LEG - o – land, thank you, very much.



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[Запись для всех] 27-09-2006 09:35
A bit of ALL BRIGHT.
There are the days, when everything goes just right. Getting up at half four in the morning seems like a piece of cake. You jump out of bed (AND the right side of it too!) happy, as a lark, and bubbling with energy. You see your still un-made up face in the mirror and able to recognize it. Why, it actually looks, like you, surprisingly pink-cheeked and bright-eyed. What a nice change from that already familiar old wreck behind the cool glass surface, crumpled by last night’s sleep, unhealthily gray of pallor (too much wine at a late dinner yesterday), suspiciously puffed-out (water retention, caused by that Chinese take away), or with eye bags, roomy enough to fit your weekly shopping into (shouldn’t have watched TV into the small hours).
Things just going smoothly on the mornings, like this. Everything falls your way and the buttered side up. Boiler in the kitchen not playing up, water get heated instantly, perfect cup of tea is steaming in front of you in no time, eggs are breaking noiselessly without waking up the family still oblivious upstairs, iron gliding over the laundered shirts without singing them. Even the clock behaves, and the minutes not galloping crazily past you, but adopt a steady and dignified pace, tick-tocking good-naturedly submitting to the general mood of benevolence.
Royal blue sky with the sprinkling of stars, already turning turquoise green, when you’re leaving the house, heading for the train station, with the promise of a bright sunny day ahead. Birds started twittering sleepily in the trees and shrubbery, and the lone vixen crosses the road right in front of you, foxtrotting silently under the street lamps and not scared at all by your presence.
Train comes on time, carrying on through all the stops to its final destination without a hitch, Tubes doesn’t give you a nasty surprise of fire alarm, bomb alert, signal failure, flood, snow, leaves, hurricane, earthquake, “dead cow on the tracks”, or whatever other reasons there might be and which London commuters are only too familiar with.
Even your fellow travelers do not look, like a bunch of idiots, whose sole purpose of existence is to make your morning journey as miserable, as it humanly (UN-humanly, more like it) possible. And the blond girl with understated make-up, snooty expression on the fresh face, in the monochrome office get-up – black, tightly fitted pinafore dress, snowy-white crisp shirt, offset by zebra-patterned stilettos and amazingly matching zebra-skin hand bag – doesn’t irritate you, but rather invites a condescending smile on your lips. I am waaaaaaaay past lovingly sought and carefully chosen colour coordinated schemes and perfectly matching accessories. Enjoy it, while it lasts, baby!
To add up to your joyful disposition, everything is fine in the gym too. Night time cleaners finally noticed my fourth desperate note “PLEASE, THROW AWAY!!!”, attached to the pile of broken cardboard (packaging from the new, last week delivered weight rack) and did what they are paid for. Should’ve, probably, acted more aggressively, in the manner of my previous club’s senior gym instructor , John Barnard. The yellow sticky post-its, he used to leave all over the gym, read, as follow: ”Dear cleaners, PLEASE, do NOT touch. Or I’ll break your arm! Sincerely yours, John.”... Or “Dear cleaners, please, do NOT forget to dust. Or you will not be paid for this night’s work. Always yours, John.” This kind of communication, rude and bullish, as it was, installed sufficient fear in lazy Latinos and produced instant and desired results.
Members are nice and friendly today, getting on with their business of morning work outs (mostly cardio) and, happy to notice, even skeletal Jenny on her X-trainer looks marginally plumper against rising sun.
The radio belting out the usual mixture of “top of the pops”, old classics, news, doubtful jokes, calls and texts from the punters and weather. Another glorious sunny day, rain not on till at least next week, temperature up in seventies. Coffee from “Starbucks” (double espresso, of course) as strong, as I like it. Omelet, I cooked myself at home, still fresh and tasty. I’ll be at home in the early afternoon. I'll seat in the garden, look at the sky, drink some tea, cook something imaginative for tonight's dinner, watch some housewifey TV ("Friends" on two channels, two series on each. What a treat!) And there is legs' training later in the evening to round up the day.

Simple pleasures of life. Nothing, like it.

And how's your day shapin’ up?

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[Запись для всех] 26-09-2006 12:05
Wisdom of the day.
Marry a wife - and you will be happy for a day.

Kill a pig - and you will be happy for a week.

Grow a garden - and you will be happy forever.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 23-09-2006 20:06
Dave's take on GYMS and WEIGHT TRAINING ...
Going to the gym is like going to school where we learn and grow. Going to the gym and lifting weights makes us whole. Going to the gym and lifting weights is a release and a diversion. The pair sustains us and maintains us. The gym is where we socialize, raucously or in silence.

Who among us would deny we go to the gym to improve our self-confidence? The insecure, I suppose. The gym is not a place of worship, but it is for many a place of refuge and meditation. The gym and its promise activate hope, a non-physical thing, which in turn activates the iron, a very physical thing. We go to the gym for mental and soulful fulfillment.

Working out is a good habit, pastime and hobby or a sport, a game, an athletic activity. When we don’t go to the gym and lift weights we feel crummy, really crummy. Weight training brings order to our otherwise chaotic life, fulfillment to the place where frustration seeks a foothold and desperation a stranglehold.

It all began with cool muscles and strength, which some of us call health and fitness. The gym is a swell place to build a swell physique. There was a time when nobody lifted weights, but a few steel-plated, iron-minded muscleheads. That was a very good time. Now everybody does and they haven’t a clue. The good times pass.

A scholar once said, “There is more instruction in a stack of weights than there is in a library of books.”

The wise man’s word declares, “To lift weights diligently is to lift one’s soul and dignity.”

We say, “Hey, buddy. Give me a lift-off on three. One, two and three... Ooph!”

Our buddy says, “You can do this... big drive... push... push... One more... push. Good!”

Did you ever wonder how little you’d understand about a lot of subjects you’d have never considered if you didn’t go to the gym and lift weights? Add them to this list.

There’s a friendly side of pain if you introduce it slowly over time and with purpose. Working out offers the perfect opportunity for such thoughtful and productive application.

The gym where intense training doth proceed builds discipline, determination and deltoids (the good Ds). The gym where workouts are mightily engaged disperses disappointment, discouragement and depression (the bad Ds).

The gym is alluring, weightlifting is seductive and we get “hooked,” as they say. We’re iron and steel addicts. We go to the gym for a fix. We also go to the gym to fix ourselves when we’re broken and the doc is out to lunch. The gym’s a neighborhood garage: It fuels our tank and charges our internal battery; it tunes the engine and increases the spark, cleanses the system and changes the oil. It removes the dents and scratches. Showtime!

When the direction we must go is not clear, we go to the gym and feel our way through the haze and clutter and cold steel. Grasping weights and groping bars provides a clarity our eyes have never known. We can see forever.

The gym and its worthy activities, thus, engender creativity and awareness and mental freedom and energy to shift into high gear and travel safely in the fast lane and go places we were once reluctant or incapable to go. What a trip!

It’s not uncommon for the individual and character who works out to be an individual and a character. This sure beats a miss and mister of the masses.

How neurotic would you be without the gym and consistent exercise? Gyms make the world a safer place.

Those who attend gyms and utilize the bars and plates and dumbbells generally eat smarter and live better lives. Gyms make the world a healthier place.

Lifting weights improves our hormonal balance, metabolic activity, neural-transmission, musculoskeletal system and cardiovascular system, all of which improve our mood and sense of wellbeing. Gyms make the world a happier place.

Going to the gym is like going to the circus sideshow of which we are a part. There’s the fat man, the skinny lady, the tattooed man, the strongman, the snake lady, the clowns, the monsters and the laughing couple on bikes. We are, of course, the sane ones in the corners who nobody notices. We press on.

It has been reported that girls go to gyms looking for guys. This is a rumor and has not yet been confirmed. Will keep you updated.

The gym is the foundry where with heated steel we form ourselves. The workouts give us balance in an unstable world in which inside is out and upside is down. Weight lifting draws us to our center from whence we express ourselves.

The gym is the stage upon which we act, act out and interact. The workouts are the battles we win consistently as we take the enemy down. Weightlifting is the thing we do and the road we travel unfamiliar to those around us.

We go to the gym to gain muscle and lose fat, to gain strength and increase speed, to improve energy and develop endurance, to suppress fear and overcome guilt, to rehabilitate injury and resist illness, to make friends and eliminate enemies, to kill time and enliven the spirit, to refresh, to restore and rebuild. We go to the gym to revive and survive and be alive.

Gyms have barbells and dumbbells, benches and racks, all of which build muscle and might, head to toe. Serious toys, serious joys.

Get this. Gyms have gadgets of incredible variety, complexity and oddness for doing just about everything and nothing at the same time. A person can often find loopy devices for entertainment or torture or magic or a distraction from reality. Don’t be fooled by new-wave, hi-tech gizmos or ideas. They are like mechanical idiots or brainy nerds running loose in a smart and simple place.

Going to the gym with our eyes half opened enables us to see the possibilities. Going to the gym regularly will open our eyes and awaken an abundance of purposes. The gym is a purpose-maker and the place to achieve them.

Some folks – not us – go to the gym because their spouses want them to, or their doctor commands them to, or ‘cuz it’s trendy, cool and impressive. Their eyes are half closed. They stand around the chrome dumbbells and chat and share recipes or congregate at the bench press and exchange stock tips and war stories. They are motivated, committed, engaged, dedicated, inspired, persevering and vigorous. They traveled across town, found a parking place, signed in, changed and stood in line for the stationary bike and water fountain, showered and departed. Exhausting! The novelty and sacrifice and devotion will last three weeks, tops. See ya!

Well, here we are a day late and all I managed to say was something like; "Hi, everybody... ah, umm... Weight training is nice. It is good for you... ah, umm. This is Wayne. See Wayne lift weights. Er, umm... lift, Wayne, lift. Watch Wayne's muscles grow. Ahh... er... Bend over and pick up the weights, Wayne. Weight lifting is fun. Hehe...

Sheesh! What a mutt.

When the gym is not in use we can remove the equipment and roll in our bombers, gliders and biplanes, whereupon we can dismantle them and put them back together again, or, as they say in hangar school, reassemble them. And, of course, every good gym has a runway nearby for take-offs and landings and potato-sack races. How much fun is that?

Now we know why we go to the gym and why we mess with the iron. It’s magnificent. That swoosh you hear is a bomber taking off.

God’s peace... dd...
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 22-09-2006 14:42
Have a BUDDHA-FUL day!!!
“Growing a Buddha” inside yourself is the first step on your own path to Enlightenment. Apparently.
Here are a few wisdoms to ponder upon and to give some food for growth of your inner pot-bellied moon-faced Sage.
Buddha once said:” We are, what we think. All that we are arises with our thoughts. If our thoughts are clear and focused, we will get what we wish for.”
If Buddha is the vehicle to peace and harmony, every one should climb aboard and enjoy the journey.
Unfortunately, having not much time for pursuing even Thomas-the-Tank-Engine steam machine of thoughts (mostly involving trivial matters of money earning, mortgage paying, family feeding and clothing, etc.) and being more concerned with helping other people to get rid of their Buddha’s bellies, then growing one inside me, I am gradually giving up on the idea of ever reaching eternal happiness from within. There is a lot easier options out there, and today I decided to give one of them a try. Bought my very own “just put it in water and it will grow” Buddha from a brilliant cards/gift shop, called “Scribbler”. Tiny statuette will expand in the room temperature H2O 600% its original size in just 72 hours. At least, that is what Instruction For Use is promising. Take it out – and it will slowly shrink back to its original size.
Now, with no other mental or physical effort involved ( just think of giving birth to something resembling a squinty-eyed samovar with the Cheshire Cat smile, thrown in for a good measure), I could “grow a Buddha” OUTSIDE OF ME. Again,.. and again,.. and again,...and again... ... All for a VERY reasonable price of 2 pounds 99 pence.

BUDDHA-LICIOUS, is it not?

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 21-09-2006 07:56
Our gym's web-site.
Have a look

And another one, from the Peter's web-site.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 20-09-2006 09:14
Hair line.
HAIR today – gone … erm… today. That how it was in my case. On Monday morning, I was catching the reflection of uniformed Madonna circa 1985 in the gym mirrors. A few hours later, after almost spontaneous hair dressing(or rather hair removing) session with ever so accommodating Olga aka Vindetta, on the late Monday afternoon it was ginger haired Sinead O’Connor catching number 307 bus from Barnet all the way down to Brimsdown Station. Hair or no hair, Yeti, or Uncle Fester, the regular work outs are still the standing order of the day.
Olya’s little son, Stepa, was the first one to compliment me on the change in my appearance:” You look like a little monkey now, when you move your head from side to side” the wise man of four said, seeing me off from the top of the stairs. Immediately felt like banana and started turning my head with renewed energy in search of a nearest palm tree.
My husband’s reaction was a fraction more gratifying. When I arrived to the gym, still breathless and trying to make my chimp’s ears less noticeable: head cocked to one shoulder, pouting for Britain , Victoria Beckham-style; eye lashes flattering coquettishly, looking every inch of a pin-up (NOT!) “Oh, Boy, you do look SO YOUNG now!” the man said without stopping the heavy set of weighted hyperextension. Have to be grateful for small mercies. Normally he doesn’t notice whether I am wearing pajamas at the dinner table or puffa jacket on the beach. Slight exaggeration, of course, but you get my drift.
And finally, that absent minded infant terrible of mine, moody teenager, who sees EVERYTHING, day light or pitch-black darkness, and would never miss a chance to tease me or tell us off (shouldn’t it be other way round, I wonder?). And who, on that particular night, just happened to grace parental nest with his presence. “M-u-u-u-u-m”, he drawled, while quickly getting down to business of ripping off the cellophane of Olya’s present (box of Latvian chocolate liqueurs).
“M-u-u-u-u-u-m, how many times do I have to tell you: I would never ever want a younger sister!” And then, giving me a second, sly, one-over (naughty child, could’ve slapped him!) added: ”OR BROTHER!”

Well, I guess, it all means my hair (un)do has been firsted, seconded, thirded AND sealed with the stamp of approval.


Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 18-09-2006 11:26
The New Adventure of Superman.
If you are anything like myself, meaning “hooked” on bodybuilding, spent three quarters of your life working in the badly paid, consuming most of your time, filled with annoying/ungrateful/body image obsessed/madly driven-and-motivated folks, but, oh, so enjoyable Industry of Fitness, then you would, probably react the way I did, after seeing the walls of “Muscle Limit Gym”, sporting the following announcement:

“Hey, boys and girls, muscle heads and fitness babes!
Guess what?
Guess who? Guess where and when?


Squeal for joy. Throw you DBs in the air. For he has arrived. The Blond Myth. The Warrior. The “NO BULLSH****T, GIVE IT, AS IT IS” man of the Bodybuilding Pro Ranks.

LEE PRIEST is giving his FIRST EVER BRITISH SEMINAR, here, in your very own “MUSCLE LIMIT GYM” on the 23rd of October 2006 from 7pm.

And even better news, guys: IT’S FREE!!!

Get your cameras and questions ready, boys and girls, and remember: seats are limited, and the first row of the seats will be filled on the “first come, first served” base.

See you there.”


Being me, you would’ve done exactly what advert so helpfully advised and what I followed with disciplined accuracy: emitted happy, “I see Jane!!!” Tarzan’s howl and attempted clumsy approximation of his monkey-mum Chita’s leap in the air.
I simply couldn’t help myself, for meeting Lee(or any other one of the top ten Olympia line-up) is a rare opportunity to
First: observe the epithom of greatness in the flesh.
Second: to re-fill ever so quickly emptying fuel tank of inner motivation. Hopefully, will get enough to last another year.
Third: to simply get together with the crowd of fellow iron-gamers and like-minders, to meet–greet-and-mingle with the “good, bad and ugly” of our business and, most important, to soak in the party atmosphere, to enjoy myself and make it “the day to remember.”

Lee Priest, for those of my friends, who’s no clue “WHAT she is on about”, is one of the longest competing athletes of modern bodybuilding. At only 33, he’s been on stage for nearly 20 years. Starting at 14 in his native Australia he proceeded winning or making at least top six at every show he’s ever entered. Now, naturalized American citizen, he’s most famous for:
Being BLOND. Or having blue, or purple, or mauve, or raven-black hair, or hair style as outrageous, as they come. Or NO hair at all.
Being short. 5”4 and NOT growing.
Having biggest AND best arms in today’s bodybuilding. 22inch guns on the man of his statue is something not many six- feeters could brag about in a hurry.
The Victory Pose. Copied from Arnold’s contemporary, the Original Myth, Sergio Olivia, Lee made it his very own signature pose.
The fast cars. Once adrenalin junkie – always adrenalin junkie. Not satisfied with "exitement hormone", provided by pumping iron and competing, Mr. Priest dedicates his spare time to one of the most dangerous games ever – the Drag Racing. And already made his name in this sport too by coming second last year in his first competition ever.
The Motor Mouth. Lee was never shy of airing his views on any subject: IFFBB politics, its' treatment of the athletes, steroids, fame, show judgement and placements, prize money, etc., etc., etc. Being Ozzie, I guess, is synonym of being outspoken, loud and into your face. It did earn him a few enemies, but also acquired world-wide popularity, huge fun base, cult-like status and enormous following.
And, finally, the body art. There is no one more “decorated” in the muscle sport now days, then Blond Myth. Starting from the Superman emblem on his left shoulder (and quite a few after that), he, finally, has run out of the trunk space and was "reduced" to putting his new, tribal motiff, tattoo ON HIS FACE. Hate it, or love it, that’s the way he is, freak an' all his…,... erm…,... muscles, that’s Lee all over. Without doubt, one of the most outstanding and controversial bodybuilder of all times.
And whatever anybody might say about him, I don’t care. He is one of my faves, and on October the 23rd of this year I’ll be having my very first PRIEST's CONFESSIONAL.
Can’t wait!!!













Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 16-09-2006 14:14
Ghost Town.
This is exactly what great metropolis looks like today – mysterious, half-disappearing, partly visible theatrical decoration, glued on the moving under the breeze fine mesh of the famous London fog. Anything, I guess, to impress the tourists and to live up to their expectations
Its’ dense, moving mass provides stunning pearly-gray back-drop for the City sky-line with the forms of “Gherkin”, Number 42 and The Canary Wharf Tower silhouetted against it.
If you get lost in it’s off-white, misty clouds, you could rely on your sense of smell to get you out of trouble and direct you on your journey. Cigar smoke and expensive leather suit cases – Liverpool Street Station. Freshly baked bread and vanilla – “Tesco Metro” at Canary Wharf. Piercingly salty smell of fish – “Billingsgate Fish Market” See weeds and boat engine oil – Docklands Marina.
Millenium Dome looks more like a giant spirits-trapping device out of the “Ghost Busters” movie, then failed, unpopular architectural landmark, designed to celebrate the turn of a new century And every marine vessel floating on the Themes today is instantaneously rendered a “Flying Dutchman” appearance by creeping watery vapour.
Seating at the reception of the absolutely empty “Reuters” Fitness Centre, have to admit, the whole overdramatic scenery makes me feel a little bit, like Casper, the friendly ghost myself. Easy to be benevolent, really, with muscles still pumped after the morning training session and the stomach, happily murmuring, digesting half a pint of vanilla flavour “Reflex” protein.
Will the haze be lifted today? Will the sun poke through the clouds? Will the spoky dwelling come back to live? Haven’t got the foggiest…

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 15-09-2006 21:16
My early birthday present from THE AWSOMELY TALENTED ONE.
Этот стих-произведенье
По своей самой натуре,
Должен некую особу
всячески повосхвалять


Но, сказать вам, если честно
Упомянутая дама
не нуждается в воспетьях
а тем более таких

Посему, скромнейший афтар
Постарается всего лишь
Все достоинства той самой
Просто вам пересказать

Это вам не англичанка,
хоть так может показатся
например, по речи складной
и изяществу манер

Или даже по одеждам
что шикарностью своею
любой бутик затменяют, например, от Вествуд брошка
или розовый берет....

Если в скобочках добавить,
то прекрасной моей Музе
очень шапочки идут, например, такие в сетку
и с розаном на боку

Этот нежный облик, в сетку, ей особенно подходит,
когда, знаете ли, пончо, а под ним такой пиджак
снизу сапоги на шпильках
сверху брошь (смотрите выше)
и ресницы до небес

но скажу вам по секрету
упомянутая дама
стиль иной предпочитает
одеватся и вообще

Тут мы плавно переходим
к описаниям духовным,
хватит нам о тряпках, право
Мы ж не фифачки какие...

Очень важно, не забыть бы
от любви обезумевши
рассказать об интеллекте
и о прочих воспитаньях

У нее, моей любимой
очень тонкая натура,
книжек много прочитала
и отличницей была..

Что ей, правда не мешало
есть на улице иички
сидя на ступеньках где то
со слугой покорной вашей

Не мешает также ей,
ну не то чтоб матюкатся (эта должность занята)
но по фсячески глумицо
этот юмор- дорог мне

И вообще, безумно важно
тут добавить что она,
несмотря на Королевность
не выносит просто надух
напыщенностей всяких,
как и прочих показух

Даже больше,я скажу вам
что имеет философский, очень мудрый взгляд на жизь
Но об этом мы не будем
это в следующих томах
Просто здесь чуток добавлю,
что короче, когда надо, то в биде всегда подставит
другу мощное плечо

Вот отсюда поподробней:
я еще не говорила?
Эта женщина-картинко
нереальный человек

С головы до пят прекрасных
Ее тело обвивают,
не не розы и не жемчуг,
МЫШЦЫ- сказочной красы!

Чтоб вы поняли примерно
распорядок дня Богини
опишу вам его кратко.
Это смертным не дано

В будний день или не очень,
Надо встать не очень рано
Часиков примерно в пять
(а уж лучше бы- в четыре)
Нет! Утра! не после-обеда!

Сразу же после подьема
на кросстренинге ходить
ну минуток эдак сорок
После этого конечно, подкрепится не мешает.
Протеинами, конечно!
тут иного не дано

Ну потом-семья, работа...
Все обычные дела
До работы путь не легкий
километров эдак десять!
Автотранспорт? Что за глупость!
Нужна кардионагрузка!

Я еще не говорила- но работа то, в- спортзале!
Кроме этого в качалку, ходят с мужем для души!

Ах, да, о муже. Эта тема- полна тайны
Афтар мужа не видала. Лишь разок- издалека
Что дает мне все основы
для построек всяко версий:

Например, я вот считаю,
таких женщин не бывает
Что не плющатся от тортов,
каждый день не пмс-ят
больше спорт любят, чем плюшки

Список можно продолжать

Если честно, я устала
эту оду сочинять, потому скажу я просто,

что Марина- биоробот!


(с Днем Рождения!!!!!))

п.с: Марин, я человек импульсивный. Поэтому отдаюсь порыву и поздравляю тебя с ДР счас! ну вдохновление у меня!!!!!

This little card will express my feelings better, than any words. I am touched to the depth of my soul, and honored beoynd believe. But, nevertheless, am still expecting my full-size nude portrait(canvas and oil) to grace our living-room wall, to impress my guests and to leave to DireXtors' Museum in my will.






Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 15-09-2006 13:07
Draper here… Strength and Health, Goodbye Summer...



There's a chill in the air. I knew it would happen; we all knew it
would happen. It always happens. Fall has arrived.

The fall is good. The gold and orange trees are pretty. I like the
fall. There are at least two days in the season during which I take a
deep breath, roll my collar up, put my hands deep in my pockets, shake
off the chill and say amid billows of evaporating breath, "This is
fun." I then turn my back to the wind and head for the nearest
shelter.

Goodbye tan, goodbye short sleeves, goodbye sweat and pump, goodbye
imperceptibly improved definition and skin tone. Hello cold, wet and
ugly.

Yes, I know some of you live in regions of the world where the summer
is just beginning... not my problem. It'll probably be rainy, hot and
sticky with lots of bugs.

Draper's groaning again. You'd think after all these years he'd get
used to it... adapt... enjoy... appreciate... grow up. Fall and its
big brother, winter, are robust times of the year offering its
beneficiaries variety and challenge. (Yeah, like curling in the snow,
sub-zero bench pressing, squatting in a down-quilted overcoat. Swell.)

Okay. I feel better now. I've expressed myself, I've gotten it off my
chest, I've lightened the load, I'm good.

Speaking of lightening the load, I don't think I'll bulk up this year.
As bombers come in every gender, shape and size, including plump and
less-than-svelte, some are asking who in their right mind would want
to bulk up -- focus on gaining weight, force-feed, intentionally
increase calories, never skip a meal, add a gallon of milk and a dozen
eggs to their diet, look forward to growing out of their clothes and
cry out YES when the scale nudges upward a pound.

Last year I was 230 for two days and my face looked like a pumpkin, my
belly like a watermelon. I walked past the produce section in the
Safeway and some lady tried to stick me in her shopping cart. Enough
is enough, I said to myself, as I fought her off with an ear of corn.
It's too much trouble and becoming dangerous. I hovered at 225 till
the blossoms of spring brought me to my senses. Bulking can be fun and
worthwhile, but it's a lot of work and extra cargo when you're lookin'
and runnin' like an old pickup truck. I'm beginning to think about
mileage as I get older -- what's the most I can get from this bomb and
how long can I keep it rumbling along.

Of course running and rumbling to me are not the same as running and
rumbling to Charlie Gottapotski and Wilma Dragbottom. I blast it.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm contributing to my health, strength and long
life by training with nutso intensity, or am I wearing myself out. Do
the take-it-to-the-edge workouts add to my years of mighty service or
do they threaten my structure and system, my existence? The heart does
some heavy pounding and the joints are under severe directional
overload. The organs are juggling assorted large obstacles while
standing on one foot and whistling the requiem for a heavyweight.
Maybe I should cool it. Another thing: perhaps I should refrain from
counseling others -- that is, keep my big mouth shut and not offer my
faithful flying companions my rash, egotistical training opinions.
Maybe I should get a rocker with a cushion, a cup of hot tea, a wool
shawl and a book with pictures.

These are hard decisions, how, when and where to lighten the training
load, when all that you've practiced and understood is dive-bombing.

Perhaps dropping 10 percent of my bodyweight would be smart, less work
for the heart. This is good, would put me at, like, 200. The entire
system, in fact, would be relieved of toil and heavy use, less food
intake, less processing and less metabolic demand. Every organ, valve,
passageway, joint, tendon and ligament would be alleviated of stress
and strain. The muscles would no longer bear an overload and would no
longer need to be large and dense to accommodate consistent and
vigorous output.

Something about the last statement causes my heart to skip a beat, an
unhealthy occurrence in itself.

Lighter people can run further and more efficiently. I could get new
clothes and wouldn't have to hold my gut in. No more eating when I
don't want to, or else. Oddballs would be less likely to ask if I lift
weights or how much I can bench. Give me a break!

Gag.

Lighter people with diminishing goals don't have to exercise as hard.
I could walk into the gym and lift half the weight for half the time
and probably maintain my newly acquired 195 to 200 pounds with half
the discipline and half the hard work.

Gulp.

That's the way it is with guys and gals who decide it's time to throw
in their belt and straps -- to let go of the tiger's tail, to trade
daring for caution, to walk the narrow walk and talk the narrow talk,
to give up. 200 pounds of muscle becomes 195 pounds of loose flesh.
It's called erosion. We lie, "Yeah, dropped a few pounds. Last time I
weighed myself I was 190 -- actually, between 185 and 190. Not
training as hard as I used to since I dropped size. Feel like a
million." A million what? Microbes, amoeba, fleas, doubts,
insecurities, excuses, mistakes?

There's the other scenario. Aging causes some of us to put our
priorities in order and we drop the bodyweight and our lifting
intensity to satisfy the logic of health and longevity. Diversions
fill our spare space -- anybody see my putter, dominoes, crossword
puzzle, remote? -- and we gain weight while no one's standing guard.
I've seen it happen to some pretty devoted guys and dolls. Now you see
them, now there's two of ‘em, or at least it appears that way. The
pounds creep up and the muscles fade away. It's called explosion.

My plan is simple: Drop the bodyweight, diminish the muscle mass, ease
the load on my muscles and structure and system by moderating my
workouts, lessening the stress of training demands, training goals and
expectations. Always observing, I can provide you with week-by-week
evaluations, schemes and discoveries. What works, what feels good,
what's right, what's wrong.

I'll tell you what's wrong. The whole idea of dropping bodyweight and
decreasing my training load is wrong. I can't stand the thought of it.
It gives me chills and I'm getting the creeps. I'll tell ya what I'm
gonna do this fall and winter. The same thing you're gonna do. Train
like a maniac, come snow, wind or high water. What was I thinking? I
feel like I need to take a bath, get slapped around, have electric
shock treatments, confess my sins and sacrifice Bomber Blend for a
week (No way, that's going a little too far).

I say ignore convention (bunk), reference the outstanding models (Bill
Pearl, Lalanne) and roll the dice (snake eyes). Look to yourself by
God's grace and determine the toughest road you can travel without
breaking an axle or blowing the engine. If the road isn't tough, the
road isn't going anywhere. All bombers know that simple fact, though
most of our miles are charted in the sky.

I believe we're all on the right course of action. It's the lattermost
word -- action -- that suggests we are. Whether young (teens and
twenty-some -- I do not forget your vital presence), or new (any age
and just snooping about the metal) or around since the first mining of
iron ore (got years and muscles, aches and pains), we're here, in
action, reading, asking, learning, lifting, growing, attentively
observing, painfully doubting, wisely adjusting and valiantly
persevering.

We press on. Something hurts, we assess it curiously and work around
it. We lift and learn. An old trick or a new trick catches our eye and
we give it our best. It carries us forward another month, entertains
us and provides renewed interest and hope. Another lesson learned --
valuable time invested. Much we do is the same. We ponder our worth
and the worth of our deeds and the worth of life, and we return to the
gym, and its provisions and breathing and priceless pain and awesome
teaching.

Not infrequently the way is clear, we gain speed, catch some air and
we're off the ground -- flying. Once you're flying, the sky's the
limit.

But you know all about that stuff, looking down upon patchy green
fields bordered by snow-capped mountains. Check it out... 11 o'clock,
a city skyline on the distant ocean's edge. Cool!

On a good day you can see forever... DD

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 14-09-2006 09:54
Mind and body connection.
Gone are the days,
When I wanted
To SAY.

Now I'd rather
Not even LISTEN,...

But LOOK.

*************************************************

PS. While my mind is blissfully basking in the rare spell of the philosophical glory and trying to LOOK into the depth of my soul, my body, quite happily, is LOOKING into my old trusty "Marks and Spencer" compact mirror, applying the second coat of "Revlon" mascara (brown, 100% water proof and absolutely THE best brush ever manufactured), taking full advantage of newly-asquired eye lash curler (my first EVER!).


Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 13-09-2006 15:46
THIGH is the limit.
Trained legs last night. From six in the afternoon till closing time, eight o’clock in the evening. In the blissfully quiet, pleasantly cool gym. Not a single soul popped in during those two VERY PRODUCTIVE hours. Not for a work out, not for a little one-to-one chin-wagging session with a miserable gym instructor. Am NOT!!! Not, while training, anyway. Those are the happiest, most content and fullfilled moments of my life, thank you very much! Just don't approach me, or touch, or, Heavens forbid, try to strike an "intellegent" conversation. "DO NOT feed the animals!" in short. Tend to fully concentrate on the job in hand and give the intruders wide breath. Should have “DO NOT DISTURB” sign tattooed across my forehead, actually, even if henna-ed only, for the singular purpose of scaring most persistent idle chit-chatters away, as “flipping a bird” or hissing “eFFFF off!” through the gritted teeth is simply not my style. Being a lady, as it happened, does have it's disadvantages.

But last night’s unusual lack of activities had nothing to do nor with my foul temper, neither with my proposed ghastly “body art”. It was due to Britain’s national obsession with the “thugs’ game, played by the gentlemen”. Confused? I might be able to give you a little clue here It starts with the letter “F” and is almost a profanity. An F-word. And for me it’s always been the most insulting F-word ever. The F-O-O-T-B-A-L-L. But, of course! What could be more important in life, then rushing home/pub/your mate’s house to watch UEFA Champions League, Group A. “Chelsea” VS “Werder Bremen”, creating lots of traffic, blocking the roads left, right and centre, congesting the public transport, etc., etc., etc. All for what to me is a dismal prospect of viewing handful of lazy bastards, paid an obscene amount of money for every kick they “nearly did”, AND never getting this two hours of your life back What a total waste of a perfectly good thing. At least I did not intent to loose this delightful and unexpected gift of a “dead calm”, and spent it on what turned out to be a brilliant work out.

Rowing. 20 mins.
X-training. 30 mins.

THIGH SUPER CIRCUIT. (repeated four times, with NO breaks in between the exercises and as short rests, as possible between the super sets (a minute-and-a-half was the longest one I had).

1. Lying leg curls. 25 reps.
2. BB dead lifts. 25 reps.
3. Repeater lunges. 20 reps. each leg.
4. DB + bench stepping up and down. 20 reps. each leg.

Needless to say with no pests around to poke their long noses into my business, with no cause for destruction, I worked myself out into a total exhaustion. Haven’t had it for ages, this curiously addictive feeling of knees buckling under you and legs turning into jelly. Was very happy this morning, after discovering all my legs’ muscles were throbbing and aching, and all my feeble attempts at walking reminded caricature version of bowl-legged cow boy's hobble, John Wane-style.

Well done, Your Royal THIGH-ness!!!

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 12-09-2006 14:26
RADIO GA-GA.


A prank. A practical joke. Stupid but funny. As heard on the Radio 1 by yours truly and the whole gang of the gym members. Needless to say we were all ears from the beginning to the end, giggling and sniggering the way eight-years-old might’ve done after learning to say “Bugger!” from an older and naughtier school friend.

A RADIO DJ is calling a MAN IN THE COUNTRY while “on the air”, pretending to be a landscape gardener and answering an advert in one of the major newspapers.

DJ. Hello. I would like to enquire about the job requirements.

COUNTRY MAN. Well, the advert is pretty self-explanatory. You will be required looking after such and such amount of acres of the garden, making necessary arrangements and seasonal changes to it. Also, trees cutting, pruning and re-planting, marking down the dead or unsuitable ones. Stocking herbaceous border will be your responsibility, as well, as flowers for the house and help with organizing the garden parties, etc., etc., etc.

DJ. Would I be allowed to work with no clothes on?

CM. I beg your pardon?

DJ. Are there lots of pretty ladies in the area?

CM. Erm…. I don’t know, really. There must be… I suppose so…

DJ. Have you got a wife?

CM. I most certainly do. Why?

DJ. Well, I thought, maybe SHE’S GOT A BUSH, WHICH NEEDS TRIMMING...

................(long signal down the line)....

....... Hello? Hello? Are you there?........







Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 08-09-2006 11:51
Fat Loss—Weight Loss

You build muscle, you lose fat. You build muscle, you gain strength, energy, resistance, enthusiam, creativity, ability, longevity, esteem - you hit the jack pot.

Most diets don't work for long term fat loss. They're concerned with reducing weight, rather than burning excess bodyfat. They strip off vital muscle, the body's major fat burning component. When you remain at a particular bodyfat level for a long period of time, your body recognizes that as your fat setpoint. Substantial time (patience, discipline and fortitude) is required to lower your fat setpoint as you seek complete and permanent changes.

The body tissue you have today, good or bad, was built almost entirely from the foods you have eaten over the past 6 months. Make a commitment today to renew your body composition.

Watch calories, watch carbohydrates. Avoid excessive fats (saturated fats are the worst) and carbohydrates. The big bonus here is that after a few weeks, your tastes and habits will simply change. Fats, sugar and salt become less interesting. For an intense fat burning regime, try the following tricks.

• With pad and pencil, simply list everything eaten.

• Cut fat (saturated) and salt intake radically.

• Consider training in the morning - this raises the metabolic rate throughout the day. This means more fat burning and more energy.

• Take 1-2 grams of L-Carnitine before workouts. You'll burn more fat.

• Drink 1-2 liters of H2O during the day.

• An excellent pre workout and post-workout meal is a protein drink. And for ideal and aggressive efforts toward leanness, add the following supplements: 2 SuperSpectrim vitamin/minerals, 2 Amino Ammos, 1 Antioxidant & 1 gram Vitamin C.

• Don't scrutinize. Permanent changes take time. Test and record your bodyfat level every two months. If you use a scale, weigh only once a week. After an initial drop in weight, plan to lose 1/2 to 1 pound per week steadily - a realistic goal.

• Have your larger meals early in the day, making dinner the lowest calorie meal.

• After reaching your goal, be prepared to continue your diet in order to establish a new fat setpoint.

• Remember, protein is THE King. To assure consistent intake for muscle adaption and weight control a protein powder should be on your shopping list along with the eggs and veggies.

• Always and forever, plan a disciplined low calorie day following any unusually high calorie days. Enjoy an extended workout and the subsequent high blood sugar pump.


Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 08-09-2006 08:00
The Blond Bomber and The Pearly King.
Bill Pearl and Dave Draper erected the pillars of Hercules decades ago, and no one, not even petulant progress and the sport's modern supercelebrities, has been able to go beyond. Who could? Pearl and Draper are the liver and lights of bodybuilding. Their physiques have been envied for more than 40 years, but their wisdom, knowledge, character, passion and principles are what impel us to sit raptly at their feet, keep our mouths shut, and listen eagerly for hours to their every revelation.

Pearl/Draper is a joint seminar the two held at Dave Draper’s Santa Cruz, California, gym, and it's surely the most compelling and valuable bodybuilding DVD ever. Come, now, what more could you ask? In the midst of a packed house of idolaters, who are literally hanging from the rafters and draped over railings, Pearl and Draper stand bowling-ball shoulder to bowling-ball shoulder, sharing their perspectives on "bodybuilding then and now, revealing truths, expelling myths and offering priceless insights" to all who ask. So rich and profound is the content that, when the 75-minute DVD ends, one feels he‘s lived a lifetime with these legends. No one, or 20, could have done it better, and the exclamation point to it all comes when revivified Ed Corney joins them from the audience.

Included as liner notes is a 32-page booklet of a separate private conversion between Pearl and Draper at Pearl's sprawling penetrale in Oregon. Priceless, all of it.

The DVD that delivers
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 04-09-2006 14:58
"Woman in Love."
Life is a moment in space
When the dream is gone
Its a lonelier place
I kiss the morning goodbye
But down inside you know
We never know why
The road is narrow and long
When eyes meet eyes
And the feeling is strong
I turn away from the wall
I stumble and fall
But I give you it all...

I am a woman in love
And I do anything
To get you into my world
And hold you within
Its a right I defend
Over and over again
What do I do?

With you eternally mine
In love there is
No measure of time
We planned it all at the start
That you and i
Would live in each others hearts
We may be oceans away
You feel my love
I hear what you say
No truth is ever a lie
I stumble and fall
But I give you it all

I am a woman in love
And Im talking to you
Do you know how it feels?
What a woman can do
Its a right
That I defend over and over again......

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 04-09-2006 13:05
Gone AWOL.
My holiday-induced state of meditative reflexion and concentration on "what's really important", that is. Missing, without obtaining permission to leave. Week ends always throw me off the course, anyway. And it seems I am doing more on my days off, than during the so-called “working days”, when I could alternate periods of hard and boring slog with the nice, relaxing spells of “put your feet up, have a coffee, let’s finally get down to real business-Net surfing” spells. The latter being understandably longer and, not-surprisingly, more pleasant and enjoyable. And apart from sometimes giving my time and attention to a few CHOSEN and PREVILEGD ones (I’m talking about gym members, of course), or MOST ANNOYING and IRRITATING, or downright STUPID and REPRESENTING THE DANGER TO THEMSELVES (and the others), while let loose on the gym floor, the rest of my day belongs to me.
In stark contrast with my money-earning activities, my supposed "days of leisure" are, probably, as three times as “active” if not frantic. With maniacal frenzy I try to fit into two days what, if I am realistic and time-management perfect, might make even a month and a half of non-stop working seem like a pretty tight squeeze. An hour cardio session, breakfast-making, making beds, tidying up, washing up, a spot of early morning gardening, a gym work out, weekly food shopping, cooking, dusting, cleaning, laundering, guests' entertaining, more cooking and washing, talking on the phone, listening, tending to my family’s every whim, working (free of charge), as an Agony Aunt, and, most important of all, adding “another brick to a WALL”. By this I mean husband-and wife team's voluntary enslavement on our very own “plantation”, i.e. house extension. If it’s not digging, then it’s concrete mixing. Or recycled bricks sorting. Or rubbish removing. Or…whatever else there might be, you name it, I’ve done it already. Or will be doing in the nearest foreseeing future, don’t you fret.
In comparison to all the above business, today’s task of getting 3 types of monthly reports ready (and the whole pile of other paper work with it) looks like a stroll in the park. I even have my picnic ready for the occasion: lovely plums from the Greek shop down the road, home made “Chicken Kievs”, celery sticks and cheese.
Oh, and to perk myself up a bit and not to feel washed up completely by the horrors of the week end, today I am wearing bright scarlet pair of knickers (G-string, AND you need NOT to ask), with a glittering heart on the front and the words “SEXY MINX”!!!
Atta girl!!!
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 01-09-2006 14:17
AB-Solution.

For most of us, having the body all the other women will sell their first born for, is one of the highest priority. The problem is, that most goals like that rarely, if ever, come with any kind of instruction manual, and you’re just left fending for yourself. Yeah, trial and error has it's place, but not in this case. Sometimes you just need to skip the bull…and get straight to the point. Well, there is your chance to learn what it takes to get peeled.

FOOD FOR FAT-OBLITERATING FUEL.

There is just no way to escape it. Your diet has to be on the point. You can’t be eating everything in sight and then wondering why you can’t wear tight T-shirt without looking, like a beach walrus.
That doesn’t mean you should be dying of hunger by the end of the day either, because starving yourself will do you more harm, then good. You have to pay attention what kind of food you shove down your throat. Just because French fries are made from potatoes, it doesn’t make them a good source of carbs. Say no to processed food, and chow down on high-protein, high- fiber food instead. What? You’ve heard this before? Great! Then just call this a reminder!
Oh, and take a breath, when you’re digging in, because your body is all about science. Your stomach needs time to talk to your brain about what it’s feeling, and if you eat too fast, chances are you’ll overeat before your brain even realizes you are full. You may not like it, but it serves it's purpose and the rewards are definitely worth waiting for, so take it slow.

TRAINING WITH A HARDCORE PURPOSE.

OK, now it’s time to hit the gym. Remember, the gym is not just the place to show off (whatever you’ve come there to show: you max bench press or your newly highlighted hair), although that certainly is a perk. All the muscles you build up while pushing iron, not only gives you a better looking body, but also helps to jack up your metabolism and burn more calories—even when you’re just lying around on the couch.
Consider including supersets in your workouts, where you perform two exercise on the row with virtually no rest. This will not only build up fat-burning muscle tissue, but will also seriously increase your heart rate, for you spend less time sitting around waiting to catch up your breath.

Having said all that, you still can’t deny the power of cardio. Yes, to some of us “cardio” is almost a swear word, whereas others simply swear by it. You absolutely NEED cardio in order to drag that reluctant six pack of yours for some guest appearance.
If you are not a fan of riding a stationary bike and watching the paint dry, try interval cardio. This is where you alternate high speeds and low speeds for a predetermined amount of time. Not only will you get through your workout quicker, you’ll obliterate more fat in a lot less time. Guaranteed!

THE FAT- BLASTING TREADMILL ROUTINE.

1min.- 4.5mph - 1.0(incline)
2min.- 5.0mph - 1.0
3min.- 5.5mph - 1.0
4min - 6.0mph - 3.0
5 to 6 min.-5.5mph. - 0.0
7min. - 6.5mph. - 4.0
8 to 9min. - 5.5mph. - 0.0
10min. - 7mph. - 5.0
11 to 12min. - 5.5mph. - 0.0
13min. - 5.0mph. - 1.0
14 to 15min. - 4.5mph. - 0.0


THE "NO REST FOR THE WEARY" SHREDDED SIX-PACK ROUTINE.

1.Crunches. 25.
2.Side crunches. 25(each side).
3.Leg curls. 25.
4.Combination crunches 25.
5.Side leg raises. 25(each side).
6.Hip thrusts. 25.

Do not rest between the sets. Repeat the circuit 3-4 times.





Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 31-08-2006 11:38
The jokes you wouldn’t tell your mum.




“Behind every great woman is a man.” Yeah. STARING AT HER ASS!!!



A Fitness Babe comes to her Doctor for a monthly check-up.
D: How are the steroids I prescribed you last time? Any problems?
FB: Nothing major, Doc, apart from one small thing.
D. Yeah? What’s that, then?
FB. Well, I don’t complain much about facial hair, ‘cos, after all, morning shaving is just a bit of a good grooming, isn’t it? But the CHEST HAIR!!!
D. Chest hair? How far down your body does it grow?
FB. Actually, Doc, ALL THE WAY DOWN TO MY DICK!!!

(Both courtesy of Mr. Gregg Valentino.)


Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 30-08-2006 13:44
Much ado about nothing.
Nipped downstairs to replenish my forever-diminishing food stock. For, inevitably, when one is on a double shift, the demand is great,the supply is short, and the hunger is threatening to strike on the unpleasantly regular base. Oh, whom am I kidding? I am just greedy and love my food dearly.
In the little busy Canary Wharf “Tesco Metro”, while wandering between the aisles and stocking on blueberries, tinned sardines in olive oil and tuna sandwich filling(strangely enough, the food of choice today), I pondered the endless possibilities this impromptu shopping outing of mine might have provided, were I bothered enough to notice and grab them.
If I were, for instance, calorie counting orientated individual, or, Heavens Forbid, ON.... A .... D-I-E-T, I would’ve made my choices from “Healthy Eating”, or “Weight Watchers”, or “Low Fat” ranges, presented widely on the supermarket shelves. And were I in any way disciplined and organized, right after consuming each item, I would’ve written it’s weight, nutritional value, protein/carbs/fat content into what supposed to be my “Food Diary”. To the full accordance with “Harbor” goal and purposes and to the secret delight (no doubt) of the site’s creators.
Come to think about it, it’s not just about how much potential danger this food might represent. For a true and seasoned diet veteran, of course, who always know their Atkins from their “balanced diet.” GI-wise, or ketoses-wise, or even, oh, mother of all modern eating horrors, CHOLESTEROL-wise. There are also numerous possibilities, in this trip, to release your creative potential. For, were I, hypothetically speaking, subjected to some ridiculous literary aspirations and the subsequent bouts of verbal diarrhea, I would’ve sketched little portraits - essays of my fellow shoppers “through the eyes of Impressionistic Writer.” There was an Oriental girl, studying fish counter next to me, whose get-up was one of the most original and imaginative I’ve ever seen. Long sleeveless jersey top(very finely knitted) with the peasant ruch’ed blouse underneath, mid-calf, black, lycra leggings with lacy edgings (“Like a Virgin” is back. "Long Live Madonna and 80-s!!!", wide gold belt, gold flat ballerina pumps, little bright bandana of mostly acidic colours and, to top it all off, big, coarse, sailor-style, hooded jacket. Camel in hue, voluminous and multi-pocketed. The kind you might wear auditioning as an extra for “Moby and Dick”. Also very useful on the fishing trip (plenty of hiding places for your tackle); and on the hiking holiday (you could, probably, very safely camp in it for the whole month without bothering to put your tent up).
Were observation another one of my talents, alongside with “social skills”(meaning non-stop chin wagging), I would’ve noticed another girl, of Slavic origin this time, whose built, size and shape were, spookily, exactly like mine. Little Mini-Me she was: strong, athletic, heavy-framed. With my round and perky behind. Only she was a lot shorter. And, oh, joy, with the thicker thighs, emphesized by a pair of extreemly tight, stretchy, light-blue leans. Which, being exceptionally gifted in this department ("Thunder Thighs" is my maden name, actually), I thought, would never be possible.

And (what a nasty thought though), were I in any way insecure, or in constant need of approval and in the clutches of regular attention seeking, I would have, most likely, resorted to taking one or two pictures of “Me with my tins of sardines”, or “I and my blueberry tongue”. Placing the said pictures into my journal on return to the gym desk (but of course), looking to attract a few more comments and to boost my flagging self-esteem.
Speaking of boosts and egos might’ve even prompted me (theoretically speaking, you understand) to start thinking of writing ALL of my thoughts on the subject (what subject, by the way?) separately; making quite a few entries a day, thus increasing my stakes in the “Popularity Contest” and climbing the ranks of “Harbour”s “Most Deserving and Eligible”. There is nothing, like indulging one’s vanity, is there? What would it make me, I wonder, all this crazy yearning for "15 minutes of Fame"? A VIRTUAL SNOB? (Ha-ha!!!)

Well, I might’ve written AND done all that, but since I am neither delusional, nor in possession of the above qualities, I haven’t dotted it down... Nobody got to read it... And, Hallelujah!, no one is any wiser.

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 29-08-2006 07:56
“Come back, come back…”

“Come back to where you belong…”
Well, I didn’t want to, but I am afraid I simply had no choice. Like all good things in life, holidays must end sooner or later, replacing all the calm and serenity with that sickeningly quickly becoming familiar “hamster on the wheel” feeling.
Back to the hassle and bustle of the gym, where, thankfully, nothing was broken during my two weeks absence(well, almost nothing); everything is functioning as per usual(just about, would be worth noticing) and all the things are in their appointed places (yeah, after I spent half an hour this morning, putting them back, where they should be, or tidied them away). Back to the panting, sweating and stinking people; back to the endless unintelligent (to put it mildly) questions and unrealistic expectations.
Well, the good thing is, whatever damage my boys are capable of inducing, they managed to keep it to the minimum, and the gym is intact, alive and ticking. I am pleased they survived without me, proving the old wisdom right one more time: we are none of us, irreplaceable. And, sad but true, most of us are dispensable.

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 11-08-2006 12:01
Draper here… Bodybuilding -- It's All Good...

There comes a time in every bomber's life when he must review his
passion for the iron, its worth and the toll it's taking on his body,
mind and time. He or she is usually bed-ridden and spoon-fed, but
lucid enough to tell the attendant to put another five on each side of
the bar and give 'm a hand-off... on three. Counting to three is the
hard part.

The eternal riddle: What comes first, our last gasp for air or our
last set of dumbbell inclines?

I was talking to a 20-year-old who has all the earmarks of a
here-today, gone-tomorrow musclebuilder -- sleeves rolled up on
pipe-stem arms, permanently flexed lats and he loads the bench press,
moving it with a huge arch, bounce, groan and assistance from two
weary spotters. He swaggers. He plans to build his body through the
summer and keep it forever, like a hotrod or show car. Lots of chrome,
polish and flash. No zoom.

His days are numbered. He doesn't know it, he'll never know it. Time
will come and go and he'll be gone. I asked him the double-edged
question above and he answered, "I don't do dumbbell inclines, too
stinkin' hard to get the weights in place." I agreed.

Today's my day off from the wilds of the gym and the rest of the world
-- I lie low in my lair and let my mind wander. This can be dangerous.
Last time I let my mind wander it was gone for two days before it came
back, an exhausted hound dog with fleas. I have no way of knowing
where it goes or what it does. It thrives on curiosity, wonder,
daydreams and chasing its tail.

Oddly, I miss the gym. Yesterday, as I traveled the freeway en route
to the awaiting piles of steel -- leg day -- I wished I was in
custody, under sedation or lost in the Amazon... anything, anywhere,
but the gym. Today, under no obligation or threat of heavy metal, I
feel lost. Workouts are tough, painful and demanding, if they are
serious, and the anticipation preloads our back and mind. Ah, but the
play of lifting weights, the fulfillment of focused exertion and the
reward of a completed training session are priceless, incomparable and
uplifting.

I'll lie low. The feeling will pass in less than 10 seconds.

Occasionally I'll get an email from a rambunctious wingman who, at 40,
say, and under the iron for years, vows to take the weights to his
fiery grave. Bombers, it appears, have no fear of death, convinced
they'll conquer the final condition with the power and audacity
acquired through overcoming gravity. We joke, exaggerate, our minds
wander and we dream on. We lift with all our might.

When the weights reach skyward like flares, when the pump stretches
the skin like a birthday balloon and the muscle burn is as
heart-warming as a mother's love; when you grip the cool knurled bars
with affection and the endorphins open the gates and set you free and
another workout is complete, it is then you decide you'll live forever
and take the iron wherever you go. Savor the crazy moments.

Say nothing to no one, they'll put you away.

Of course, we who have spent long hours with the weights in various
forms -- long bars and short, thick bars and bent, pulley systems and
machines -- know of different times. We recall those indelible moments
when the cold iron scorched the hand that touched it, wrenched the
shoulder connected to that hand and sent pain and doubt through the
whole body, causing its foundations to crumble like clay. Injury is a
cruel and effective instructor. Plateaus, envy, frustration, boredom
and sacrifice -- difficult lessons summon us forward.

Life has many faces, scores of names: the unlikable twins with long
noses peering from hoods, tall in body and bent at the back -- the
spineless thieves, disappointment and discouragement; a mocking
creature with features like your own -- perfection, the unquenchable
companion; a soulful partner wearing your scruffy shoes -- your best
friend, you, your devoted self.

I believe it's the daily, day-by-day encounter with the clanking and
pushy musclebuilding elements that etches the deepest lines in our
body and psyche. Daily stands alone. Daily suggests living and
learning, routine and persistence, struggle and enduring. And though
these states-of-being are our familiar escorts and stabilizers, they
also attempt to imprison us, break us down and cause us to give in.
Confine a man and he begins to doubt himself. The clanging of plates,
like the dripping of water in silence, will have him toss and turn and
desperately seek relief.

Freedom, freedom, whither hast thou wandered?

You've heard it before: Only the strong survive. "Daily" must be
formed, molded and fit into worthy and important, interesting and
fascinating. This is done not with the hands only, but the mind, the
ever-powerful mind, which shapes our future as we assimilate the day,
the present, the here and now -- the iron and steel moments. Our
positive imagination, our confident expectations and our resolute
attitude day-by-day direct our extending and contracting sinews. Here
the work is applied, the toil endured, the challenges met and the
struggles won and lost.

Thank heaven work is not without satisfaction, toil is not without
reward and challenge – one more rep, one more pound -- is not without
gain. Winning and losing are difficult to separate; knowing them is
the prize.

Tomorrow is Friday, win or lose, and I plan to go to the gym for my
daily, everyday workout. It should be a doozy. I'm geared up, wired
and ready to go. Boom Zoom! Look out innocent bystanders. I'm all
fired up. I'm a barbarian. But, then, I just might crawl into the gym
like the hesitant Bill Slowsky and find a cool corner in which to
withdraw. These hot summer days are killing me.

I'll take my time, drinks lots of water and breathe deeply. The
specific challenge at hand is deadlifts and I have not trained lower
back directly for the past months. Consistent squatting and bentover
rows have adequately worked the region and temporarily exempt me from
the awesome exercise. Tomorrow I confront the steel as it stands
before me like a slick loan shark, short and stout in stature, vicious
in nature. Payback time!

I'll warm up with some crunches, rope tucks and mild hyperextensions.
A great combo to work the gut, prepare the areas to be worked and
stall for another 15 minutes. My favorite bar will be loaded with a
plate-and-a-half, centered in the platform, generously chalked and
stared upon and mildly considered. I'll knock off a simple set,
seeking perfect form. The second set will be done with 225, a drop in
the bucket not too long ago. With the completion of the second set
I'll know how deep I stand in smelly swamp water. The fight will
begin. Mood and attitude and approach (and power) are everything. I'll
wrestle, I'll squirm, I'll pace, chalk and wrap. The third set will
total 275, a squirt in the can. I'll recall days gone by, imagine
pulling the light weight repetitiously and try not to fuss. Three
plates look commendable if I was going to press it, and I'll
appreciate its hunky appearance. Gee! Wow!

Here is where I leave the foothills and encounter the mountain. How
high can we go, bombers? Proceed with caution. There are rocks and
crevices and ravines, the air is thin and it's a long way down.

The first heavy sets of deads after a long layoff from the girly
exercise are devastating. It's as if there's no muscle within the
length of flesh comprising the erectors, but, instead, a Gumby-like
substance that merely bends and twists and contorts. I could get six
reps; I could get two; I could get a herniated disc. I should get a
minimum of one rep for a few sets, and move on like an adult who plans
for his next workout, his health, his wellbeing, long life and joy.
However, having spent most of my life behind gym walls, I've seldom
encountered an adult, a mature person, grown-up, or whatever they're
called. No role models. I'm clueless.

Well, time will tell, tomorrow, sitting alone with my water bottle.
Platforms can be lonely places. After deadlifts I'll do some shoulders
and arms. I'll devise a routine according to my performance with the
cleverly designed vessel of gravity, the barbell, lying in wait on the
rubber-matted platform. Workout complete, I'll collect my abandoned
gear and hit the freeway, my truck and me. I'll count ladies using
their cell phones while they drive. Tsk. Guys get a free pass.

Bombers are a creative and fascinating bunch. Give them some air, a
pair of wings and they're aloft.

Thank God. It's all good.

The Bomber
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 09-08-2006 15:36
))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))
Guilty yesterday. Remorseful today. Hurts even more.





They say we're young and we don't know

won't find out until we grow.
Well
I don't know maybe that's true

'cause you got me babe
I got you.
Babe
I got you babe
I got you babe!

They say our love won't pay the rent

before it's earned our money's always spent.
I guess that's so
we don't have a lot

At least I'm sure of all the things we got.
Babe
I got you babe
I got you babe!

I got flowers in the spring

I got you to wear my ring.
And when I'm sad you're a clown

and when I get scared you're always around.

So let them say your hair's too long

I don't care
with you I can't go wrong.
Then put your little hand in mine

There ain't no hill or mountain we can't climb.
Babe
I got you babe
I got you babe
I got you babe!

I've got you to hold my hand - I've got you to understand.
I've got you to walk with me - I've got you to talk with me.
I got you to kiss good night - I got you to hold me tight.
I got you and I won't let go . I got you to love me so !

I got you babe. I got you babe. I got you babe.


Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 08-08-2006 11:02
FIVEr- a-day.
Went downstairs to buy myself a GYNORMOUS espresso. Bought an August issue of “Muscular Development” instead. Spent three pounds forty pens out of four pounds in my pocket. AND found a FIVER in the lift on the way up. There was a faint urge of placing an advert, announcing the find and asking the owner to contact me, but it was quickly and successfully suppressed by a far less noble, but much more powerful yearn for a hot, strong, freshly brewed, fragrant liquid. A sensation, greatly reinforced by another strong argument: something along the lines of “24 lifts in the Canary Wharf Tower” and “Thirteen hundred employees in the building” and "Where am I supposed to place my little advert to attract attention of this scatty-head, who, obviously, doesn't know, how to look after his five pound notes?"...
I am only a mortal, after all, and still have to learn not to yield to temptations.
As a result am now sitting at the desk, happy and content, sipping my ever favourite drink and leafing through the pages of the best magazine in bodybuilding.
Who said you can’t have it all?

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 07-08-2006 12:03
Dead don’t sweat.
Had a proof yesterday, that I am not entirely dead yet. Or, at least, far more alive, than I thought I would be after a very trying and tiring week. What with the heat, and the return of the “prodigal son”, and the final touches to our drawings to the house extension, and the beginning of the new month and lots of bills brought by it, and a couple of birthdays to attend, a few barbeque parties to organize and to host(my usual luck) and etc., etc., etc. No wonder, then, that on Saturday morning I woke up, feeling as though being run down by a truck --- empty, spent, half-dead. Even getting up seemed like an impossible labour, not to mention anything else, like, for insyance, getting on with my life. Still, due to popular demand (and by "mutual agreement" between me and my family), had to go through with even more exhausting task of completing sea-side trip to Clacton, sun tanning on the beach, bathing in the sea, eating fish-and- chips and ice cream on the marina parade. As much as I love our traditional annual outings together, this one brought me no joy. I kept discovering faults with everything and everyone: sun was too bright, sea gulls too noisy, chips ---too greasy, ice cream melting too fast, “Nissan”—too speedy, my husbands’ driving on the boy-racer side(as usual; should‘ve made my peace with it by now); and there was, definitely, too much traffic AND police on the A12.
Oh, and to top it all of, I burned. Came back, looking brightly pink, like a freshly cooked lobster (minus dill and melted butter), and hurting all over. Still had to entertain a bunch of self-invited guests into the wee hours and slaving half-a-night away at the BBQ grill.
That was my Saturday, well and truly spent”to the good of the others.” Wasted, in my mind. Can’t say Sunday was a whole lot better. Apart from the work out session down the gym. Hamstrings on the menu were served hot and pumped.

1. Stiff legged dead lifts. 5 X 15-20.
2. One-legged standing leg curls. 5 X 20-25.
3. Lying leg curls. 4 X 15-20.
4. Seated leg curls. 4 X 15-20.
5. Hamstring/bum squat. 4 X 20-25.
6. Hyperextension supersetted with stomach crunches. 3 X 25.

No amount of fans in the gym, turned on, and the aircon, blowing with the gale force eight, stopped me sweating my guts out. Not an aesthetically pleasing detail, but as the truth should be preserved and the grim reality bravely faced, that was exactly, what I had. A bloody downpour with all the trimmings: sticky vest, wet hair and totally ruined image.
On the other hand, come to think of it, it’s not such a bad thing. It shows, that not all of your resources spent just yet, and there is some life left in the old pile still, and that I am alive and kicking. (Well, just about.)

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 03-08-2006 12:05
The ABSence of the ABS. Or the truth about ab-DOMINALS.
The fact that millions of women desire a trim waist is what keeps the ab equipment industry booming. Unfortunately, many of the abdominal exercise gadgets on the market are ineffective and sometimes even unsafe. The advertisements for these products perpetuate misconceptions about what really works and what doesn't.

Spot Reduction

"Trim" is a word used frequently in ab products. In reality, no exercise equipment will trim or reduce your waist. If you haven't heard by now, you cannot spot reduce fat (except by liposuction!). So don't believe ANY abdominal toning equipment advertisement that promises to decrease fat around your waistline. The fact is that ab exercises will train your abdominal muscles, but you will have the same layer of fat sitting on top of these muscles unless you create a calorie deficit by burning more calories than you consume. The most effective combination is aerobic exercise, strength training and healthy eating habits. You might not like this answer, but it is the only one that will work in the long run. Don't look for quick-fixes--as we all know, if it sounds to good to be true, it probably is!

The Flat-Stomach Myth:

Many people are on a quest to achieve a "flat stomach". The obsession with the abdominal area can cause frustration, anxiety, and can even lead to eating disorders. Unfortunately for many people it's not physiologically possible to achieve a flat-stomach. Our abdominals aren't designed to be flat. Instead, the abdominal muscles form a rounded, not flat, shape. Gender, age, and individual body types can effect the size and shape of your abdomen. This is especially true of many healthy and fit women who, when they reach about 40 years old, tend to get a lower abdominal "pouch" due to hormonal changes.

So instead of worrying about something you can't change, try focusing on something you can--like your posture. Poor posture can contribute to a "pot belly" look, while good posture can add to a trimmer-looking physique. Good posture consists of a slight bending of the knees, contracting the abdominal muscles to point the tailbone toward the floor, and keeping your shoulders back and your head balanced on your neck (not leaning forward). Think of a string attached to your head which is being pulled upward. Better posture will make you feel taller and slimmer.

Effective Abdominal Exercises

As mentioned earlier, ab exercises won't reduce fat from your waistline. Genetics, age and gender determine the shape of your abdomen. That said, with the proper exercises, you can improve the abdominal muscles. The abdominal muscles react to resistance training just like any other muscle group. Performing 100 biceps curls is not the proper way to overload the biceps--neither is doing 100 crunches to work the abdominals. Effective exercise will fatigue muscles in less than 20 repetitions and will produce better results.

You can achieve results without any equipment. You can even work your abdominals by performing a "pelvic tilt" while sitting in a chair. This method can strengthen your abdominals for better posture and for supporting the back. People with weak abs find this very helpful and easy to do. Other exercises:

Standard Crunch:
Lie on back with knees bent. Lift your shoulders off the floor, concentrating on moving your ribs towards your hips. Pretend a grapefruit is under your chin so you don't move your head. Easier: hands on chest. Harder: Hands on sides of head, but don't pull on head. Hardest: Hands straight out above head. Go slow and keep breathing. Try 2 seconds up, hold for 2 seconds, then 2 seconds going down.

Reverse Curl:
This targets the lower fibers of the front abdominal muscle and also the side abdominals. Lie on your back and bend your knees toward your chest as far as is comfortable, keeping hips on the floor. Contract your abdominal muscles to lift hips off the floor and bring knees toward chest. Don't swing your legs! Concentrate on using your abs to lift your pelvis toward your lower rib cage. Go slow and keep breathing. Easier: Hands on floor. Harder: Elbows on floor, hands in air.

Combination Crunch:
Do the standard crunch and the reverse curl at the same time. If you need a challenging ab exercise, this will work great.

Ab Exercises on the Ball
There are some legitimate ab products like the exercise ball (aka swiss, gym, stability ball, Fitball), which has been used by physical therapists for decades. It's one of the safest and most effective training devices for the abs and low back. Lying on the exercise ball, your hips curve down so you start your exercise at a greater range of motion than you would lying flat on the floor. This means more of the abdominal muscle gets trained.

To be continued... The pictures are to follow.




Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 01-08-2006 15:16
ICONS. A portrait of England.
Alice In Wonderland
The Angel of the North
The Archers
Big Ben
Blackpool Tower
The Bobby
Bowler Hat
Brick Lane
Cricket
A Cup of Tea
The Domesday Book
Eden Project
The FA Cup
Fish and chips
Fox-hunting and the Ban
Globe Theatre
Hadrian's Wall
The Hay Wain
Hedges
HMS Victory
Holbein's Henry VIII
Jerusalem
The King James Bible
The Lake District
Lindisfarne Gospels
Magna Carta
The Mini
Miniskirt
Monty Python
Morris Dancing
Notting Hill Carnival
Oak Tree
The Origin Of Species
Oxbridge
The Oxford English Dictionary
Parish Church
The Pint
Pride And Prejudice
The Pub
Punch and Judy
Queen's Head Stamp
Robin Hood
The Routemaster Bus
Rugby
Sherlock Holmes
The Spitfire
SS Empire Windrush
St George's Flag
Stonehenge
Sutton Hoo Helmet
Tower of London
White Cliffs of Dover
York Minster



http://www.ICONS.org.uk
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 31-07-2006 15:43
How do you like your eggs in the morning?

Probably, the same way I do? “I like a-mine with a kiss…” There are very few things in the world, which would be better, than a breakfast in bed, lovingly prepared and deposited in front of you, on the tray, with a flower, by one of the “men in your life”. I don’t know how many of them YOU’ve got. MY count stops at two. And today the breakfast tray in question was plonked down across my stomach at half six in the morning by the shaggy dirty creature, claiming to be my son. At any rate, this was the impression I’ve got, for, after shifting the heavy, laden with food square of plastic a few times (“Just making sure it’s not gonna fall”), this looking slightly familiar youth pulled the bedroom curtains back, gave me a clumsy, wet kiss on the cheek and shouted: “Good morning, Mum. I am home!!!”
Then, without elaborating any further, turned on his hill and bounded down the stairs back to the kitchen. In search of food for himself, no doubt. I, still in the remaining vestiges of the last night’s sleep, pondered hazily, that a) “How strange, that he is back today, when he was supposed to stay at the sea-side for another week”; b) “Whatever two indirect bomb hits weren’t able to do to our house during the last War, that heavy-footed child of mine could be quite capable of accomplishing”; and c) “There wouldn’t be ANY food left downstairs after this monster of a breakfast he got for me.” For, heaped and piled in front of me, there was every dish you could ever imagine having for breakfast. Cue in Sly Stallone from “Stop! Or my Mum will shoot!” film and that famous phrase of hers (Mum, I mean):
” Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.” And with the text book accuracy my son followed the statement to the letter.
Glass of orange juice? Yeah! (NEVER drink the staff on it's own. Use it to mix protein powder with only.)
Cup of coffee? You’ve got it! (With at lest three spoons of sugar in it. Yuck!!! There are not many things for me, which could rival the sweet coffee in its disgust ness.)
Pot of tea? Black AND sweet again. (I would normally drink “Earl Grey” green tea at this our in the morning. Without any sugar, obviously.)
Cereals? Check. (Stopped eating them eight or nine years ago, alongside with most of the other carbs.)
Toast? Ditto. (Check the previous remark about carbs.) Three kinds of jam and two — of marmalade? Ticked! (Always hated the bitter-sweet gloopy mess of wasted oranges.)
Couple of croissants, half-packet of biscuits, two protein bars, chorizo sausage and side plate of kippers,thrown in for a good measure. ( Whatever my son lacks in attentivness, he surely does make up for in imagination. Biscuits AND kippers! Who would ever come up with such a combo!)
And, finally, the food I usually start my day with. The eggs. Scrambled. Overcooked, very dry and even slightly burnt.(The smoky sight of ruined scrambled eggs' pan came unbidden to my mind, and the scratchy sound of the aluminium dish scourer started uninvited in my head.)
"And wherever has he ever seen me eating in bed? Whatever made him think I will enjoy it? And what’s he doing back home so soon? And what time it is, anyway?”

Downstairs my prodigal horror cheerfully announced, that “It was becoming a bit too boring in Devon, so I thought I’d hop it.” And, since he didn’t bother checking the presence of the front door key in any of his pockets, and the rest of his flat mates will be staying down South for another week, “I thought it made sense for me living at home for a bit, Mum.”
Guess you’ve got a pretty good idea now about how my week will be shaping up.
Definitely, “SONNY SIDE UP!!!”

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 30-07-2006 10:43
Lean legs for women.
Intense Leg Training Program

6-week program, alternating week 1, week 2

WEEK 1 -
MONDAY/WEDNESDAY/FRIDAY

Warm-up legs and shoulders with deep knee bends, rotator cuff work with rubber tubing. The workouts are fast-paced, sixty seconds maximum rest between sets, supersets or tri-sets. This is designed to prioritize the leg shape and demand fat burning with upper body maintenance. six weeks is the maximum this workout should be used without the addition of upper body work. If a fourth day can be added, do your favorite upper body workout

Front Squats (5x15, 12, 10, 10, 10)

Stiff Legged Deadlifts (3x12)
tri-setted with
Leg Curls (3x12)
and
Calf Raises (3x20)

Incline Dumbbell Press (4x10)
supersetted with
Wide Grip Pulldowns (4x10)

Optional, if time and energy permits, no rest between supersets:
Dumbbell Pullovers (4x12)
supersetted with
Crunches (4x25)


WEEK 2 -
MONDAY/WEDNESDAY/FRIDAY

Wide Stance Squat (Sumo Squats) on Smith Press (5x10)

Raised Lunges on block or step (3x10)
supersetted with
Leg Curls (3x10)

Dumbbell Pullovers (3x12)
supersetted with
Seated Lat Rows (3x12)

Dumbbell Shoulder Presses (3x12)
tri-setted with
Dumbbell Curls (3x12)
and
Triceps Pushdowns (3x12)

Optional, if time and energy permits, no rest between supersets:
Crunches (3x15)
supersetted with
Calf Raises (3xMax)


Well, that's the plan for the next 6 weeks, anyway. We'll see, if this programme could turn my "wheels" into alloys.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 29-07-2006 07:02
A BIRTHDAY POEM.
To many reincarnations of ONE and ONLY.


In the place,where legends,
Myths and Gods are alive,
You will live,
You will blossom.
You will love,
You will thrive.

In the Land of the Plenty
You're still ONE of the kind.
Who would rival your beauty,
Spirit, talents and mind?

Full of youth and of vigour,
You deserve only best.
Keep you hunger for stardom,
Never settle for less!

"King of Kings" let your Man be,
"Song of Songs" be your life.
"Fruits of Loin" let be plenty.
(No less, than a F-I-V-E!)

In the clash of religeons,
In the horror of War
Keep in touch. We'll be there.
That what friendship is for.

In the time of unsettle,
In the age of contest
Friends become your Salvation,
Shelter, "Harbour" and Rest.

Being NOT sentimental,
I eschew Wailing Wall.
Wave aside all affected.
See my true, naked Soul.

Rigid structure of Poem
Keeps emotions at bay.
What INSIDE is important.
NOT the rubbish I say.

Happy Birthday, "Калория"!
Many happy returns!
Years, full of the sunshine,
Internet and ... popCorn!

No cake on this planet
Is as big, as your heart.
No other "Cornflaker",
Who could be just, as smart.

Happy Birthday, "Ипониц"!
Most important--have fun!
Have (and THIS is an ORDER!)
Toasted, jam croissant!

Troubled water, or shallow,
Thick or thin. Carbs or fat...
WHO you are---ALL, that matters.
Drink some vodka to that.

Happy Birthday "DireXtor"!
Celebrate! Have a bash!
Lots of love. Hugs and kisses.
С Днём Рождения, Маш!










Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 27-07-2006 09:48
CARDIO-lly yours.
Q. I’ve been doing a lot of cardio recently in order to trim down my body and burn some fat. I’ve been keeping my heart rate at about 60 percent of my maximum. Do you think I need to work a little harder and get it up to 70 percent? I’m also worried about burning muscles and I think, if I will keep going, they might start shrinking.

A. You should do your best to stay in that 70 percent range, excluding warm up and cool down periods. That’s not to say, that doing your cardio in the 60 percent range won’t burn fat; it’s just not as time-efficient or quite as effective.
The only way you would have to worry about burning muscles is if you got your heart rate up to, perhaps, 80 percent or higher, and maintained that rate. Also, using too much resistance on any cardio machine isn’t the best idea for anyone concerned with losing muscle mass. If your legs are getting pumped, that’s the sign, that your aerobic exercise is crossing over into anaerobic zone, which is what weight training is.
Aerobic exercise gets its energy from glucose (or ketone bodies, for those on the very low-card diets). Cardio uses oxygen for fuel and is the genesis of the fat oxidation process. Another very critical factor in retaining your muscle mass is your nutrition. If you are not taking enough protein (I would recommend a minimum of one gram per pound of lean bodyweight and as much, as two grams for hard-core, advanced bodybuilders), you body will leech amino acids out of your own muscles for fuel. Losing muscles isn’t a desired outcome for anybody, so be sure you don’t overlook the nutritional aspect of your programme.

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 25-07-2006 12:22
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Mr. QUADzilla
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 24-07-2006 11:22
A birthday thought.

Getting old is a question of MIND over MATTER.

'cause, if you DON'T MIND, it DOESN'T, really, MATTER.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 21-07-2006 16:16
A date at the TATE.
Yesterday two ladies---the writer of this entry and another highly esteemed “Harbor” addict, Ms. Inna2—met at the “London Bridge” station to satisfy their cravings for culture AND gossip.
First, we were “LADIES, WHO DRINK”. Coffee was my brew, and it was water for my health-conscious date.
Then, we became “LADIES, WHO VIEW.” AND appreciate. In fact, it required a lot of both, for the subject of our attention was a truly remarkable one. “The path to abstraction” Kandinsky exhibition at the “TATE “ Modern. Colours, shapes, emotions, movement, Fauvism, Cossacks, Russian Folk Art, power, contrasts, Light and Darkness, Good and Evil, Apocalypse, Deluge and Flood. Sadly, there wasn’t enough time for two friends to concoct anything even vaguely challenging “The Thomas Crown Affair”. I did like quite a few paintings. Pity, even the smallest one out of my preferred selection wouldn’t fit into my capacious rucksack.
And, thirdly, we applied ourselves to our true calling and turned into “LADIES, WHO LUNCH.” In the cool shadow of the “Victoria Embankment Gardens”, on the bench, next to an Indian couple, drying out on the fierce afternoon sun after falling into the Thames River (Bloody tourists. Just couldn’t keep away from the stupid INDIANA- Jones- explores- the- City- of- London style adventure!)
Oh, and before I forgot “Essentials” and “Everything else” diary chapters, I’d better mention the most important part of this entry. Sushi and ice-cream were the two courses on the menu of our “simple, but stylish” lunch.

After that my friend went to enjoy London’s cultural scene even more (“Turandot” at the Royal Opera House. Some people are too sophisticated for words! NOT jealous in the least, whatever you might be thinking.)
I dragged myself home, somehow overwrought, fancying the prospect of getting all hot and sweaty, first, on the Tube, then on a train, and then on a bus, NOT one bit. They said in the press, that transporting cattle in such conditions (+50C on public transport for two days on the row) would’ve been considered “extreme cruelty to animals.” Whereas, where the people are concerned, it was simply called un-humane. I wonder, what Wassily Kandinsky would’ve made out of MY path?





Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 20-07-2006 12:06
You either GET it---or you DON’T.
Life is a rip-off, when you EXPECT to get what you want. Life works, when you CHOOSE, what you’ve got. Actually, what you’ve GOT, is what you CHOOSE.
To move on, CHOOSE it.

When someone tells you a joke and you laugh, that means you GET it. You don’t UNDERSTAND the joke; you simply GET it. If someone has to explain the punch-line, it isn’t funny any more.
So GET this: if you want to be slim, there is no point in eating sort of food, that makes you fat. No, not “obviously”. Many people can’t seem to make a connection between their shape and what they put in their mouths.

Two of my favourite “pet hates”.

1. Calorific Delusion.

“I hardly ever eat a thing but somehow just can’t loose ANY weight.”
Yeah, and how about two packets of crisps, a “Yorkie” bar, handful of biscuits and tall skinny latte, loaded with sugar, you’ve consumed, as “a snack”, between breakfast and lunch? Not to mention couple of bananas (“fruits are good for you, aren’t they?”), a flap-jack (a “Fitness” one, reduced-fat variety) and a few dives into a colleague’s bag of “Weight watchers” cookies at tea time?
Oh, well, there’s your passport to Fats Ville. By all means, eat it --it’s YOUR CHOICE-- but don’t kid yourself, you want to be slim.

2. Exercise Denial.

“I go to the gym three times a week, I work extremely hard, but it doesn’t make ANY difference to my shape AT ALL. Exercise simply don’t work !!!”

But of course they don’t. As long as you perch comfortably on the stationary bike and pedal languidly for as long, as it would take you to flip through the pages of “Hello!” magazine. Or come to the physical "Alma Mater" in designer tracksuit, full make-up and jewellery and stroll for ten minutes on the treadmill, adjacent to the one of your friend’s(in identical get up), yakking your head off while at it. And then sit for a further hour, drinking cappuccino in the café, eyeing up the slim people around you enviously and complaining bitterly of life’s unfairness.

This people simply DON’T GET IT: your life style is defining your shape, size and tone. There is no other way around it. And THAT is THE punch-line.


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[Запись для всех] 19-07-2006 09:04
Three quatations of the day, randomly choosen.
1."A chain is no stronger, than it's’ weakest link".

Quotations are supposed to never be wrong, but I wonder (oh, how I wonder!), if the chain, assembled out of all my vices and imperfections (read “weakest links”), would hold together for more, than half a second.

2."Something is better, than nothing."

Sometimes I would rather have NOTHING at all, then consume the crumbs from the fortune’s table and count my blessings. Is it being arrogant and tempting the fate?

3."Dead man tell no tales".

As though it's not bad enough being dead, but to "top it all" (ha! a joke! and a bad--tasted one at that!), the poor bugger can't even have a chin wag. Yeah, so would you, or, rather, you wouldn't, if the said part of your anathomy was tacked firmly into your chest. What a truly D-E-A-D-ful existance!!!


[Запись для всех] 17-07-2006 11:37
"Ice,ice baby..."
Thanks Goodness for Sundays. At the week ends I start believing in God again. For, apart from creating a giraffe, it’s the second (and most important) prove for me, that He does exists and takes good care of His children. And if He didn’t, I would’ve done it myself just the same. Letting my tired body luxuriate, as Mr. Sting quite rightly put it, “in the fields of gold.” I am not even going to have a grace to blush, having to admit, that MY gold was of a “Carte d’Or” variety, came from “Tesco” and had to be explored with a spoon (table one, in my case) AND greatly complimented by Agatha Christie’s “Poirot” on ITV3.
Well, up in the sky, in His clody parlour cum workshop, God might’ve been ecstatic after surveying his long-necked, horny, bizarrely-patterned creation. But even the Devine inspiration could not compare to the satisfaction of a mortal, getting a mouthful of a icy cool, tangy sweet “Taste of Heaven” on the hot summer day here, on Earth.

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[Запись для всех] 13-07-2006 10:44
Last night in the garden...
How pungent and mournful
Your greetings to Moon,
Oh, white stars of jasmine.


... Subtly accompanied by even more pungent, "base line" smell of human waste from our blocked man hole (greetings to not-so-next- door neighbours) and the "gentle overtones" of the filthy, stinking water suds in my suffered for, laboured over, foundation trench--all courtesy of the free "Thames Water" services.
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[Запись для всех] 12-07-2006 08:16
You could never be too rich…

Well, as much, as it saddens me, an obscene wealth is NOT a possibility, hanging menacingly over my head, Damocles sward-style, threatening to come down on me, as a ton of bricks, or rather gold bullions. After checking my bank account yesterday, for the thousandth time, I started thinking, that if the Buddhists’ faith into reincarnations is to be believed, and in the life present we are carrying the punishments for the by-gone’ sins, one of my previous existences must’ve been in the body of Mr. “Golden Touch” Midas himself.
And if becoming too thin, all of a sudden, is the fate, that would never befall me (love my food too much to either starve myself or chuck it out, sticking too fingers down my throat), having a trust fund and NOT an overdraft facility, sometimes struck me as extremely useful and convenient.
On the other hand, if “Money is the root of all Evil”, then two white feathery mechanisms, attached to my shoulder-blades, shiny halo in my rusty-red curls and heavenly gardens of Eden, is the very likely prospect of my hereafter. “Hale, Marina, Full of Grace” anyone?

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[Запись для всех] 07-07-2006 09:50
And the hamSTRINGS attached


Last night’s hams’ training. Completed in the suffocating atmosphere of the gym, almost deserted at this time of night but for a few hard-boiled, die-hard muscle nuts and fitness freaks.

1. Stiff-legged dead lifts.
2. Lying leg curls.
3. Leg presses (almost 90 degree angle on the machine).
4. Standing leg curls.
5. Seated leg curls.
6. Hyperextensions supersetted with stomach crunches.

All in all good session, great pump, mood, vastly improved by our old friends endorphins, released into the blood stream, as a result of physical exertion. Such a benign disposition it put me into, all that "strutting my stuff around", that a little incident at the gym’s parking lot was immediately dismissed, as “just a hiccup” from the “sh***t happens” variety. We "touched and scratched" somebody’s car’s bumper, while reversing in the narrow packed potted-holed space, known under the proud name of “Muscle Limit Gym” Drive Way. Nothing the insurance can’t sort out. Pity about the bonus, but who would cry over a spilt milk (unless a protein poweder was already added to the liquid. And, moreover, if it was a "Reflex" protein--British best and most expensive. AND my favourite.)???
Had to turn into a little roaring tiger for about twenty seconds, to counter- attack the “damaged” vehicle’s owner, to cut through the stream of expletives, to shut him up and to let him know, that “the individual with the vocabulary not extended too far beyond the “F” word does not deserve neither our money, nor our apologies.” Though WHY did I have to stick my nose into the men’s business and divert the fire on to myself (I wasn’t even driving!)---is a mystery. As much to myself, as to anybody else. Overdeveloped sense of loyalty, chronically paranoid motherly instinct and constantly nagging, over inflated need to protect and to get involved. “Stand by your Man”, I suppose, is still pretty much the string (HAM string, ha-ha!), holding my Universe together.


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[Запись для всех] 06-07-2006 09:32
The return of the British summer.
Cool and breezy.
Summer rain.
Life is bearable again.

*****************************

And if the Weather Man said "It's raining", trust me, I am not the one to moan and grumble. Not today. Not after almost two weeks of debilitating, stifling heat. "Let it rain", I say and sod the hose ban.

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[Запись для всех] 03-07-2006 16:58
The Lion and the Unicorn: Socialism and the English Genius.
It's written in 1941, but most of it is still true. Even after sixty-odd year.For some reason felt, like reading Mr. Geroge Orwell's esse after watching England's defeat in Quarter Final of the World Cup.


http://www.orwell.ru/library/essays/lion/english/



"...National characteristics are not easy to pin down, and when pinned down they often turn out to be trivialities or seem to have no connexion with one another. Spaniards are cruel to animals, Italians can do nothing without making a deafening noise, the Chinese are addicted to gambling. Obviously such things don't matter in themselves. Nevertheless, nothing is causeless, and even the fact that Englishmen have bad teeth can tell something about the realities of English life.
Here are a couple of generalizations about England that would be accepted by almost all observers. One is that the English are not gifted artistically. They are not as musical as the Germans or Italians, painting and sculpture have never flourished in England as they have in France. Another is that, as Europeans go, the English are not intellectual. They have a horror of abstract thought, they feel no need for any philosophy or systematic ‘world-view’. Nor is this because they are ‘practical’, as they are so fond of claiming for themselves. One has only to look at their methods of town planning and water supply, their obstinate clinging to everything that is out of date and a nuisance, a spelling system that defies analysis, and a system of weights and measures that is intelligible only to the compilers of arithmetic books, to see how little they care about mere efficiency. But they have a certain power of acting without taking thought. Their world-famed hypocrisy – their double-faced attitude towards the Empire, for instance – is bound up with this. Also, in moments of supreme crisis the whole nation can suddenly draw together and act upon a species of instinct, really a code of conduct which is understood by almost everyone, though never formulated. The phrase that Hitler coined for the Germans, ‘a sleep-walking people’, would have been better applied to the English. Not that there is anything to be proud of in being called a sleep-walker.
But here it is worth noting a minor English trait which is extremely well marked though not often commented on, and that is a love of flowers. This is one of the first things that one notices when one reaches England from abroad, especially if one is coming from southern Europe. Does it not contradict the English indifference to the arts? Not really, because it is found in people who have no aesthetic feelings whatever. What it does link up with, however, is another English characteristic which is so much a part of us that we barely notice it, and that is the addiction to hobbies and spare-time occupations, the privateness of English life. We are a nation of flower-lovers, but also a nation of stamp-collectors, pigeon-fanciers, amateur carpenters, coupon-snippers, darts-players, crossword-puzzle fans. All the culture that is most truly native centres round things which even when they are communal are not official – the pub, the football match, the back garden, the fireside and the ‘nice cup of tea’. The liberty of the individual is still believed in, almost as in the nineteenth century. But this has nothing to do with economic liberty, the right to exploit others for profit. It is the liberty to have a home of your own, to do what you like in your spare time, to choose your own amusements instead of having them chosen for you from above. The most hateful of all names in an English ear is Nosey Parker. It is obvious, of course, that even this purely private liberty is a lost cause. Like all other modern people, the English are in process of being numbered, labelled, conscripted, ‘co-ordinated’. But the pull of their impulses is in the other direction, and the kind of regimentation that can be imposed on them will be modified in consequence. No party rallies, no Youth Movements, no coloured shirts, no Jew-baiting or ‘spontaneous’ demonstrations. No Gestapo either, in all probability.
But in all societies the common people must live to some extent against the existing order. The genuinely popular culture of England is something that goes on beneath the surface, unofficially and more or less frowned on by the authorities. One thing one notices if one looks directly at the common people, especially in the big towns, is that they are not puritanical. They are inveterate gamblers, drink as much beer as their wages will permit, are devoted to bawdy jokes, and use probably the foulest language in the world. They have to satisfy these tastes in the face of astonishing, hypocritical laws (licensing laws, lottery acts, etc. etc.) which are designed to interfere with everybody but in practice allow everything to happen. Also, the common people are without definite religious belief, and have been so for centuries. The Anglican Church never had a real hold on them, it was simply a preserve of the landed gentry, and the Nonconformist sects only influenced minorities. And yet they have retained a deep tinge of Christian feeling, while almost forgetting the name of Christ. The power-worship which is the new religion of Europe, and which has infected the English intelligentsia, has never touched the common people. They have never caught up with power politics. The ‘realism’ which is preached in Japanese and Italian newspapers would horrify them. One can learn a good deal about the spirit of England from the comic coloured postcards that you see in the windows of cheap stationers’ shops. These things are a sort of diary upon which the English people have unconsciously recorded themselves. Their old-fashioned outlook, their graded snobberies, their mixture of bawdiness and hypocrisy, their extreme gentleness, their deeply moral attitude to life, are all mirrored there..."
George Orwell.



The lion and the unicorn were fighting for the crown
The lion beat the unicorn all around the town.
Some gave them white bread, and some gave them brown;
Some gave them plum cake and drummed them out of town.



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[Запись для всех] 30-06-2006 07:54
Vigorously and Without Doubt.
"Lost time is not found again..."

Young Bob Dylan penned those words generations ago, harmonica in hand and guitar by his side. He then sang the lean prose with a tormented voice in one of his incriminations on life. A person of fewer wounds might say time is lost forever when the timekeeper does nothing to correct it. I say time is not lost but only misplaced to be replaced by the understanding and time-saving lessons it teaches.

Try putting the last two revisions to music and you know why Dylan stuck to his prose, and became a shining star.

“Who cares,” you say, “let’s build strong muscles and get ripped.” Finally, somebody with a head on his shoulders. The time we thought we lost trying this training principle and that diet has served to teach us, entertain us, sustain our interest, carry us forward, fill our storehouse with experience, strengthen our character and humble our souls. The unbearable slow-rep methodology, the excruciating 100-rep-per-set squat technique, that sardine and grapefruit diet or those toasty soybean cauliflower casseroles had far more meaning than we thought -- little benefit, no reward, but lotsa meaning.

We’ve experienced, we’ve learned, we’ve grown, we’re moving on.

The road is clear, my grip is tight. No more lost time, misplaced, replaced or wasted time. In fact, I don’t wear a watch, nor do I have a calendar hanging over my desk. I live for the moment. I’m free. Freedom means doing whatever you want, whenever you want without restraint or interference... (After all your daily chores are completed, that is, ha-ha.)
Freedom in training means proceeding confidently with your urges, long-laid plans and recent discoveries, the current trends and recommended techniques. If you’re going to do them, do them well. Perform them with confidence, practice them with devotion, execute them with spirit. Anything of value that exists in your spectrum of schemes will be gained only by hard work and committed application.

One more thing; keep your eyes wide open. It’s essential.

Training with doubt is training imprisonment. With every set and rep, you question what good it will do, where it will take you and what it will produce. No clear image emerges as you sit in your solitary confinement. You apply effort with restraint as suspicion confines you. You work out in shackles; your spirits are bound. Training passion and workout joy are stifled, strangled by your uncertainty and reserve.

I can paint a pretty grim picture when I want to make a point. Sometimes I go overboard and get depressed. No worries, I stand in a corner pounding my chest and repeat huge and ripped, huge and ripped till the negativity drips from my body like snake venom. Works every time.

Doubt must be arrested and replaced with assertion and exhilaration. A confident state of mind must be chosen and adopted, then practiced and proven. You’ve got to believe in what you’re doing, knowing that if what you’re doing is not exactly right, it will still promote discovery, learning and growth.

It’s difficult to determine which training program is the best and most effective to satisfy all your needs at any given time. These needs include -- separately if not all at once -- muscle size, density, shape, definition, quality, might, swiftness, endurance and health. So you reference your experience, observations, conversations and the written word found in books, magazines and web pages, and you formulate your scheme.

Oh, yeah, right. No problemo, Charlie Brown. Bull’s-eye, on the money and perfecto mundo. Information, like candy at the pound store, is abundant and nauseating, and an overload will give you a bellyache.

Remember: Stick to the basics, kids, and you’ll never get sick.

The new plan works until the novelty wears off. I don’t even want to begin to speculate how short-lived a workout love-affair lasts in this day and age. We’re an odd mob -- capricious, impatient, expectant, greedy, naive, indoctrinated and spoiled. Two, three weeks tops, and we’re discouraged, depressed and desperate... Rats! According to my calculations, research and dreams, I shoulda yada yada... but instead, I’m nada yada yada.

Doubt is as sure as the rising sun, or more appropriately, the cold winter fog, the dark midnight gloom. Remove the stumbling block, Sport, and replace it with a springboard. This is your game, your track and field, your platform. Not every plan we put forward is exact and without fault. Stick to the plan, Stan. Make a few bold adjustments, substitute the bar with dumbbells, modify the rep scheme and apply intensity where you are able and reservation where you must. Reduce the pace, increase the weight. Be strong, don’t doubt, go hard. Wondering is permissible -- nothing wrong with a little curiosity. But the doubt, the duct tape around the eyes and mouth, hands and feet, must be removed. Ouch! It feels so good. No more doubt.


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[Запись для всех] 26-06-2006 15:58
Three wisdoms of Monday.
1. Work sucks.
2. Things not just COULD go wrong, but usually DO go wrong.
3. If I were French, my guests' entertainment would've been sorted for months and months ahead. Today's morning would've been an ideal for stocking up on one of our neighbours favourite food-l'escargots. Due to the warm, wet weather, the snails were out on the pavement in full force, carrying their little shell huts on their backs and twitching tiny horn-shaped antennas.

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[Запись для всех] 23-06-2006 09:40
My life in Nursery Rhymes.
The cock doth crow
To let you know,
If you be wise,
Tis time to rise.

Curse the cock (or, rather an alarm clock) for making me get up at 4:30 every morning for the past week. Double-shifts let you earn good money, but they leave you drained and exhausted. Feelings, obviously, unknown to some happy-go-round empty-headed Amish females:

I am a pretty little Dutch girl,
As pretty as I can be.
And all the boys in the neighborhood
Are crazy over me!

Have a strong suspicion she might be a Pennsylvanian Dutch and, apart from dedicating her time to psychologically handicapped neighbors of the opposite sex, is also partial to simple carbs and junk food in general. Sweet addictions, as it well established by modern medicine, are resulting in mood swings, bizarre behavioral patterns and quite bad tantrums.

I Scream,
You scream,
We all scream,
For ICE CREAM!

Thanks Goodness, I am not this little Netherlandian monster and only eat carbs every once in a while. At least I could relate to this coquettish nursery rhymes’ character, as far, as the unusual conducts are concerned. All this “early to rise” stuff is, probably, making me “wealthy”, but, positively, UNwise. For, would you give the benefit of the doubts to some half-awake, barely dressed creature, chasing a fly around the kitchen, with a tea towel, at five o’clock in the morning? Well, my IQ number has nothing to do with my love of acting (even with the eyes “wide shut” was pretty good,as a "spider replacement" , ha-ha!) and, what’s more important, with my flies phobia. Can’t stand this filthy buzzing pests, getting in through the tiniest gap and spreading the germs and bacteria.

Little Miss Muffet, sat on a tuffet,
Eating her curds and whey;
Along came a spider,
Who sat down beside her
And frightened Miss Muffet away.

I didn’t just scared the insect away, I am afraid. Not satisfied with the role of the Spider-woman, I killed the bloody bluebottle. Oh, and by the way, you might have not want to read it, if you are a Buddhist and “Thou shall not kill” principle rules your life.

The rest of my productive morning went pretty much, as each one of the four before it.

One for the money,
Two for the show
Three to get ready,
And four to GO!

“One for the money” is what kept me going all this week. In addition, I am good at putting up pretty convincing shows of being bright, cheerful, alert, professional and friendly, when, in reality, all I want for most of those long thirteen hours shifts is for everybody just to bugger off and leave me alone. Go away and get a life, people, or I might end up, like this poor sod, Humpty Dumpty. Don't even need an aid of the wall to happily fall to pieces in front of astonished, if somewhat ungreatful audience. Am capable of staging great noisy show with chunks of flesh and shreds of bone, flying around, in no time AND all by myself. No props (or strings) attached.


Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall.
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
All the king's horses and all the king's men
Couldn't put Humpty together again!

A little bit of history for those, who still think Mr.HD is an Egg. He is NOT.
From the East Anglia Tourist Board in England:
"Humpty Dumpty was a powerful cannon during the English Civil War (1642-49).
It was mounted on top of the St Mary's at the Wall Church in Colchester defending the city against siege in the summer of 1648. (Although Colchester was a Parliamentarian stronghold, it had been captured by the Royalists and they held it for 11 weeks.) The church tower was hit by the enemy and the top of the tower was blown off, sending "Humpty" tumbling to the ground. Naturally the King's men* tried to mend him but in vain."
* NB: The "men" would have been infantry, and "horses" the cavalry troops.


Well, “get ready” was never a problem for me. I could jump out of bed, put my make-up on with one hand, while tagging on some clothes, shoving the food into my trusty capacious old rack suck, quickly tidying up few bits and pieces with the rest of the limbs God has kited me out with, all in the space of twenty minutes. And then, for the rest of the day, it’s “GO! GO! GO!” I wonder sometimes, what day I was born on, for the classification of “silver- spoon- in- the- mouth” babies plainly suggest, that mine was more of a wooden variety and, as the poem clearly states, our kind “MUST work for a living”.

Monday's child is fair of face,
Tuesday's child is full of grace,
Wednesday's child is full of woe,
Thursday's child has far to go,
Friday's child is loving and giving,
Saturday's child must work for a living,
But the child that's born on the Sabbath day
Is fair and wise and good and gay.

And even then, despite all the hard slog, dealt to me by my Saturday “birth right”, somehow I failed to see the attraction of being born Jewish and G-A-Y, just because you happened to pop into this world on “Sabbath”. Even the thought, that it's not the "Black Sabbath" and you not oblige to bite off the bats' heads, while on stage next to heroin-crazed Ozzy, is not much of an atonement in this case. Or is it?

Oh, well, one must not grumble, as things could always get worse, and usually DO, according to Murphy’s Law. It might’ve been me, not Simple Simon, who’s sad state of mind forced him to watch the reality slipping from his grasp and the world falling to pieces around him. Definetely, the mark of a Wednesday birth, unfortunate miserable simpleton. Hence the life "full of woe".

He went for water in a sieve,
But soon it all fell through;
And now poor Simple Simon
Bids you all "adieu".

And so do I.




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[Запись для всех] 22-06-2006 09:10
Feeling Japanese.

Are you? Have you ever?... I, most definitely, don’t just FEEL, I LOOK Japanese today. As a result of far too much “black- olives-and-cheese" bed time snack last night and, subsequently, too many cups of tea, I woke up today resembling ginger haired descendant of Tamer Lang. Seeing the world through the newly oriental slits for the eyes, must’ve been inspirational, if slightly shocking, experience for my system. My mind sharpened, my brain revved up into gear quarter of an hour after closing front door behind me(normally it takes two double espressos to produce similar effect, and not BEFORE I’ve reached my intended destination—the gym), my thoughts flowed, smooth and fluid. Small wonder, that after the amount of liquid, downed by Ms. "Mc Greedy-san" yesterday, she hasn’t turned into a Japanese-style water feature with one-legged heron standing amongst lotus flowers and lilies, reflecting their fragile translusent perfection in the dark glassy face of the pond.
Never being Oriental before, and not quiet knowing, what to do with my freshly-minted, almond-eyed self, I, nevertheless, took an advantage of unfamiliar situation and after 5 minutes into the bus ride to work, came up with the following haiku:

Wider and wider
Rings on the surface.
Somebody dropped a stone.


Sayonara!!!




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[Запись для всех] 20-06-2006 15:57
Having a last laugh...
“What’s that coming over the hill? Is it a Monster? Is it a Monster?”
I must’ve learned the song by heart already. And so would anyone, were they, like me, stuck in the gym for the whole day today, listening to the steady stream of news, not-so-successful DJ’s attempts at light-hearted jokes and pretty limited selection of pop rubbish on the radio.
Another reason for the “over the hill” creature staying with me, and the words of the song ringing in my ears is, that it echoes the “compliment” (well, of a sort, anyway), I got today from a gym member. Without elaborating too much on the initial subject of our conversation, privy to the unexpected outcome, we’ll get to it's’ dramatic finale straight away:…” You look freakish already, Marina. I couldn’t make you more monstrous, even if I try.” It's not an insult in any way. She meant it kindly AND as a joke.
Let the more nervous of the readers rest assured, that I haven’t, all of a sudden, discovered, that my so far totally amiable inner child is non other, than Mr. Hyde himself; nor do I start feeling irresistible urge to throw my shaggy-eared, yellow-eyed head back; open my enormously fanged snout and howl at the full moon. None of the other signs of any kind of belonging to the Dark Side have revealed themselves after careful examination of my reflection in the gym mirror: no green skin, no scales, no sprouting horns, or hooves or tale. Same old red haired, hazel eyed, broad shouldered athletic me looking back from the glass surface, stained with countless prints of sweaty palms and fingers (Mental note to self: nighttime cleaners need to be given a good bollocking for not doing their job properly. If it wasn’t a Fitness Centre, but a Police Department, we would have enough material evidence to create a case for one and each of our “customers”.)
No, there is nothing wrong with me, as such. It just, that it’s probably too much of me. And there is only a little of a joke in every joke (none at all in some, in fact.) For years now I was trying to prove to everybody (mostly myself), to all the skeptics out there, that unfortunate genetics could be overcome , stubborn body parts could be improved beyond recognition and “where there is the will, there is the way.” The “will” part was never a problem, for my pig-headedness is legendary, and if I want something badly enough, I usually get it. The same goes for the “way”. My way was always work, work, and even more hard work. Proletarian working ethics, I give you that, but that’s the way I was brought up, and, good or bad, that’s the way it will stay. The sum of those two, put together with well-thought-of, all year round training plan and good nutrition finally yielded the results and I see the rapid muscle growth at the age, when most people (females especially) start seeing the reversed process. Namely, shrinking of the ol’ fast twitch fibers.
Being logical widely accepted as not one of the feminine strongest traits, but shouldn’t it be obvious even for the least gifted in the skill of deduction: you’ve reached your goal, be happy? Celebrate? Well, it is not all that simple, and, apparently, the “dream come true” is a trick, rather, than treat. It’s one thing catching approving glances from the muscle heads while “pumping for England” in the gym and hearing encouragements of “You go, girl!”. But seeing somebody on the parking lot gawping openly at you, standing up behind the wheel of their convertible, just short of pointing the finger, while all you were doing, was pushing the supermarket trolley towards the “Tesco” entrance on the hot sunny Sunday morning is quite something else. I even turned around to see, if there was anything extraordinary going on behind me, but no traveling circus materialized: no hand-walking acrobats with their legs bobbing up in the air; no fire eaters or knife throwers in garishly bright costumes leading the procession; not even a huge grey mountain of a dancing elephant waving its’ cabbage-leaf ears on the fresh morning wind, noiselessly bringing up the rear.
It was me the astonished spectator was craning his head at, trying to get a better look and, probably, restraining himself from chucking the good manners and screaming: ”Look! Just look at THAT!” The plated glass of the supermarket window reflected some muscular bloke, dressed as a female and bearing striking resemblance to a vaguely feminine Jay Cutler, fooling around at a fancy dress party, kited out in drag. Is it the time for me “to rip, what I saw” and am I turning into a one woman walking freak show?
It should’ve been a triumph, having proven myself right and the rest of the world wrong, and the one, who laughs last supposed to have it best. But in all honesty, who could say, that the joke didn’t backfire and it isn’t on me now?

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[Запись для всех] 16-06-2006 13:10
Draper here… The Musclebuilder Has His Hands Full. Part II.
PRIDE

I know little about the matter of pride except that which I've read or
observed in others. Yes, I enjoy the gratifying sensation I experience
from personal achievement, a joy and appreciation some call pride. That's
fair. And, as I respect the work I do and the projects I undertake, you
might say I take pride in my work. That, too, is agreeable. But I know
nothing about arrogance and self adoration, those insufferable forms of
pride threatening the stability of mankind. I loathe men and women
pretentiously strutting about their beauty, wealth, power and position, as
if they were rubies and gold. Have they no depth, substance or soul?

I'm free of the millstone of pride; the monkey of conceit finds no place
on my back and vanity dares not enter my humble presence. You want me to
flex my biceps? I can make my pecs bounce.

Pride can reduce the coolest person to a lukewarm loser. You see someone
you admire and he opens his mouth and proceeds to talk -- about himself.
Oh, boy, see ya later. Everything he says to enlarge his stature and worth
contributes to his decrease. He slowly topples from foundations of clay
amid pride, conceit and self-importance. What a mess.

About pride: We must be careful not to think of ourselves too highly or
too often. This can be accomplished by thinking of others before
ourselves, and respecting the qualities and understanding the shortcomings
of those in our view. Where admiration is worthy, admire, and refrain from
envy. Envy is pride in one of its ugly disguises. We are wise not compare
ourselves to others, but to compare ourselves to ourselves. See the truth,
accept and appreciate it. Truth deserves nothing less.

How quick we are to notice the weak in their weaknesses. If a mirror is
not available, put a finger to your heart. Here's where the weakness
begins. If you can't sincerely and selflessly amend a wrong in another
with encouragement, smile and move on (unless the person is dropping
dumbbells, cursing your friends, monopolizing the equipment, spitting and
smearing the mirrors with his dirty paws... then ya gotta take action).

You see yourself as quite something some days. You caught a smile from the
opposite sex (you think), received a compliment from a peer (sounded like
a compliment), your pants and shirt fit just right (you're pumped), and
you notice a confident swagger in your walk (you're bad, you're cool). You
hop in your vehicle and floor it (zoom, zoom), aggressively maneuver
through bothersome traffic and arrive at the gym in a screech (Slick is
here). You enter the gym grinning like you own the joint or know something
nobody else knows. Each step is deliberate and solid 'cuz, after all, you
are a big fella. And then around the corner he comes, the behemoth from
another planet. This guy is tall and huge and ripped and young and
handsome and modest. Suddenly you feel short, fat, skinny, small, dopey
and nauseous. You try to recover... gulp... but you have been utterly
devastated by... well... pride, the crappy little monster killer. It gets
worse. You notice how quickly you search for weaknesses in the overgrown
bum -- a disability, degenerative disease, a terminal illness, illiteracy,
poverty, leg irons, a despicable criminal record or a screechy voice that
sounds like a baboon with its tail caught in a plate stack. Ain't reality
cruel? Go home.

We're done with pride.

TRIUMPH

Where and when does triumph exist? Is it an explosive thing experienced on
great occasions only, or might it be a lesser thing experienced moment by
moment? I'm as impatient and in need of constant and immediate reward as
the next person. Thus, I want all the wins I can get now. And, of course,
I'm greedy and want the big victory that comes at the end of long
sacrifice and much devotion. Give me, give me, give me more. I'm pathetic.

A better question: What is triumph? Triumph is personal. It is sometimes
indefinable. And triumph is not always about winning or conquering.
Triumph is the achievement of a worthy thing not always planned for, the
successful completion of something along the way or a win that comes when
loss is the final reward.

He's not only pathetic, he's also a whacky. Stand this side of the guard
rails, please. Don't feed him.

Triumph is not always accompanied by fanfare and excited recognition.
Relief can be triumphant; the merest respect, a hint of appreciation, the
slightest acknowledgement, honest laughter, a smile... these are triumphs
in triumph's greatest moments.

Get the net, men, prepare the cage. He's losing it.

What did you expect, bombers, a sappy 400-word dissertation on winning and
losing and long suffering, one of those tearful and inspiring speeches
(ugh!) about never giving up, never surrendering, never submitting no
matter what the price, payment or cost? Get outta here.

You enter the gym's hallowed doors; that's a triumph. You stand before the
weights in your favorite shabby gear -- no easy accomplishment. I call it
triumph. Your system is readied with several high protein meals, including
tuna. Triumph comes in poptop cans. You grab the dumbbells, sit on the
bench, roll back and launch the pair of iron missiles over your head.
That, Bomber, is a triumph over risk, mind and matter. Press on! We count
the first reps worthy, but those last two or three are triumphs in doubles
and triples. Sweat's pouring, pump's growing and the burn is hissing. Now
put the rascals back in the rack without the assistance of a crane. That's
a conquest, a major win, an engineering feat, or as we pitiful muscleheads
say, a triumph!

You are triumphant, brothers and sisters, triumphant. The enemy was not
tread beneath your feet, you didn't cross the finish line by three lengths
nor were you crowned king before his subjects. You simply and undeniably
triumphed... and you've just begun. Triumph is continuing.

When I'm out of fuel but the urge to fly is great, I push my winged
vehicle to the airfield's outer limits where there is a sheer cliff. I
give my powerless heap one last shove, hop in and over we go. Almost
always I pick up strong currents of wind and glide to my heart's content.
Sometimes I crash and start all over again.

Push that iron, brothers and sisters... God's speed... DD
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 14-06-2006 12:06
Draper here… The Musclebuilder Has His Hands Full
Draper here… The Musclebuilder Has His Hands Full

We've got barbells and dumbbells and cables and squat racks, Cybex, Hammer
and more. There are aches and pains, belts and wraps, chalk, the pump and
burn. Who can forget the tuna in cans and bottles of water, protein
smoothies and supplements by the fist full? How about the lady on the leg
extension reading her horoscope or the guy on the next bench chatting
loudly on his cell as you attempt your one-rep max, or the stoked high
school football team using your favorite squat rack, roars and high-fives
between sets... all afternoon?

That's just the beginning, bombers. We have bucketsful of abstracts to
hoist demanding greater strength and energy than old-fashioned farmer
walks. They include intangibles like endurance, boredom, triumph and
pride, which tug like puppet strings on the mind and soul.

I suggest we take one at a time to prepare, warm up and practice our form.

ENDURANCE

Endurance is just another word for perseverance, but I suspect you've had
enough of the P word and it's lost its impact. Thus, bombers, I will go
with endurance, stick-to-itiveness, resolve and other less-frequently used
versions of the word. It is an essential, hard-earned attribute and
without it champions would not exist, nor would suns and stars, tycoons,
marriages, friendships, blue-chip enterprises, farmers, rocket scientists,
nations and species.

There's endurance in a workout and endurance in working out. The former is
a tough 90 minutes. The latter is tough and everlasting. Without either we
go nowhere. With both we go where we can go. And both are exhilarating.

You ever watch a kid playing in a park? Better yet, do you remember when
you were a kid playing in a park? A park is any setting where kids run and
play and have fun among themselves. Funny... I just had a sad feeling. I
think less of that sort of thing -- running and playing -- is going on in
the world today. Am I being old-fashioned, cynical, short-sighted,
nostalgic? Nevermind, the sadness will pass.

Kids hop, skip and jump and develop their own styles and skills according
to their ability and personality and endurance. The longer they practice a
thing, the more individual and better they become. A youngster with real
stick-to-itiveness is noticed by those around him -- he's vital, he
excels, and he regularly improves where he directs his attention. With
guidance, encouragement and his own inner compass, he emerges an adult,
strong, capable and complete.

Hopeful musclebuilders, like kids at play, develop insignificant muscle
without significant endurance, persistence. Muscle and might are not built
by the trendy whirlwind training principles practiced by the heavily
marketed, highly indoctrinated and exceedingly impatient rascals of today.
Generally, rascals are good; rascals with fortitude are better and become
the best. Impatient rascals burn out before the fire starts.

Endurance -- long-lasting drive, staying power -- does not come from
wishful thinking, high hopes and slick recommendations. It comes from will
and courage and practice. Sustained performance, the highway to
excellence, depends on a clear goal and a commitment to it, confidence and
the certainty of reward. And reward can be manifest in dollars in the
pocket, a warm smile within, a nod of recognition from one's peers or high
marks from a panel of judges.

You'll recognize endurance -- perseverance -- by the strain it
periodically produces on the overload meter located between the heart and
brain. Upon approaching the red zone, world-weariness and personal fatigue
mount like excess cargo on the back; your appetite for sets, reps and hang
cleans evaporates into the gym's pungent air; your muscles grow limp, you
stoop and your head droops forward as you stare at the walls and drool.

Sometimes you need to rest, brother iron, sister steel. Don't wait for me;
I'll just stare at the walls a little bit longer.

BOREDOM

Bored? Who's bored? Not me. I love this stuff. I dwell in rapt enchantment
between the irresistible desire to lift heavy weights intensely during all
my spare time, my untiring devotion to strict dieting and my almost
religious worship of muscles and might. It doesn't bother me that, though
I practice these delightful disciplines enthusiastically, I look in the
mirror and see no appreciable development. Disappointment is not a state
of mind I endure. You see, winged warriors, it's not the destination; it's
the journey along the way.

Sitting on a bench between sets and staring out the window as I long for
my next fierce round with the immoveable cold steel is a joy I guard
jealously. These are my sets and my reps, and my swollen, throbbing
joints. I beseech thee to honor my pain, my pump and burn, as I do yours.
Let us share intimately, men and women dedicated to the same matchless
cause, and recognize and respect our cold-steel destiny. Fixed dumbbells,
deeply knurled Olympic bars, unswaying squat racks and well-oiled cable
systems rock, roll and rule. Boredom will find no foothold in our
dedicated presence.

Yet, there was that day when boredom dared show its ugly head. As it
slithered from a dark corner and across the gym floor to my bench, I
caught its image in my peripheral vision. I was at first astonished it
would approach me, a staunch lifter of impervious character, but quickly
realized it preyed on the vulnerable and distracted, anytime, every time.
I had let my guard down. I was daydreaming and my mind was permeable,
perfect conditions for boredom's work. Instantly, I recalled my goal, my
vision, my purpose for standing amid the fields of iron -- massive and
striated deltoids. I squashed the leech with my big toe and watched it
squirm and ooze. Press-behind-necks supersetted with bent-over lateral
raises allow no time for boredom... laziness, a weak spirit or slimy
things that crawl.

Boredom is a product of a lapse in thinking. You forgot. You forgot the
reason you enter the healing halls of the gym and the purpose of grasping
and wielding the iron that excites you. The glide of the first reps and
the power of the last have grown momentarily faint. These are no
incidental minutes wasted in a futile clash with mounds of witless pig
iron. These are cascading moments of a lifetime.

Boredom makes difficult the first rep, neutralizes the ensuing reps and
prevents the last rep. Boredom short-circuits a stout pump, prevents a
heated burn and reduces an hour of joy to an extended length of misery. If
you let it, boredom follows you everywhere you go, and not like a puppy,
but like Satan's tail, a stalker, a lost workout, a skunk.

Boredom stinks.


Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 12-06-2006 10:58
The make of a genius.

If the common assumption is to be believed, and all you need to create a masterpiece is “one percent inspiration and ninety nine percent perspiration” , is it not likely, then, that, since I am sweating buckets (only a small wonder with the heat wave we’re having), and my Muse is only one percent alive today, I am on the threshold of producing some kind of a chef- d’oeuvre by the sunset?

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 09-06-2006 15:01
East is East.
Spent mid-morning at the very heart of London’s East End: Brick Lane. The original Curry Heaven, nowadays an odd mixture of Balty Houses, modern glass-and-concrete buildings, white-bearded men in traditional Asian dress, foreign students from the Art College and idle tourists on the narrow streets with name-plates in Arabic; oriental restaurants, already smelling of garlic and spices at ten o’clock in the morning, and coffee places, selling organic smoothies and home made cakes. Not at all, what one would expect from the area, known as “close-nit Eastern community, following traditional ways of culture-enriched, religion obeyed life.” But, after all, what do I know about "ins" and "outs" of other nations’ walks of existense? So far my closest, up to day, oriental experience consists of an encounter not even remotely resembling Rabindranath Tagore’s description of this fascinating part of the world:

"Where the mind is without fear and the head held high;
Where knowledge is free;
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls;
Where words come out from the depth of truth;
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection;
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the dreary desert sand of dead habit;
Where the mind is led forward by Thee into ever-widening thought and action…”

It was with a Japanese girl behind the counter of a small Take Away shop in Charring Cross.

And our little exchange run, as follow:

I: “Could I have some chicken, please?”
The Girl: ”What’s “CHICKEN” in English, please?”

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 07-06-2006 15:51
THE SECRET IS --- THERE IS NO SECRET !!!
There are basically two types of people who use weight training for fitness. Type A, the driven, and type B, the not-so-driven. Though the degrees of difference vary, I know that for those of you of the A type, it would be an act of cruelty to keep you from your workout - an absolute impossibility, like stopping the movement of a glacier or the stampede of wild horses.

And then there are amongst you of the B type, neither lazy nor irresponsible, who can't seem to make it to the gym (or the garage) on a regular basis. You have a long list of reasons why you can't and some of them are even pretty good. It is to this larger half of the population to whom I speak.

To be effective, exercise must be consistent. This is the first and foremost precept of physical conditioning. If there's a secret, it's consistency. Don't quote me on this, but I believe bad exercise, badly executed consistently is far better than no exercise at all. Getting to the gym whether you want to or not, even for a short appearance, a salute or a bow is vitally important to the health of your fitness lifestyle. A break in consistency leads to the erosion of your training foundations, and without sound foundations no structure will stand.

How do we train consistently, especially if we don't have a milligram of discipline or patience? To be consistent, training must be desirable, not drudgery, not dull, boring or fruitless. It must and can be exciting.

For training to be productive, you must look forward to it with enthusiasm and confidence. Merely doing it is not good enough. Train with steady pace, moving from set to set, breathing fully to oxygenize and psychologically prepare for the set to follow. Get involved with the flow of your exercise, always focused on your immediate task and surroundings. Concentrate on the muscle's action, the burn, the pump, the extension and contractions. This is not advanced thinking reserved for champions and pros. No time is too soon to think in these terms. If you're brand new in the gym, practicing your exercises with these obscure thoughts in mind will speed your progress. Always keep your eye on your goal, knowing you'll eventually achieve it and savor the time spent along the way.

Absence is erosive. In fact, your presence in the gym can be restoring, even bring you out of depression, solve a problem, squash stress or inspire you to have the best workout of your life. Try it! Just go to the gym when all roads lead elsewhere, maybe nowhere.


Basically, you'll want to settle into a sound exercise program for at least 6-8 weeks to provide your mind with order and discipline. It also provides time to understand each exercise separately and collectively and to afford the healthy overload to the muscles so they respond by growing strong.


Remember, while we're all alone (which helps make this one of the most fulfilling sports), we're also all in this together. And in the gym there's probably nothing you're going through that we haven't all gone through at one time or another. It's the peaks and valleys... I'll get to that another time.






Upper Body, Lower Body Split Routine (2+1). My work out plan for the next 6-8 weeks.


DAILY
MID SECTION & AEROBIC WORK
45-60 minutes of cardio
Crunches, Leg Raises, Hyperextensions

DAY 1 - UPPER BODY

CHEST
Bench Press (3-4x12,10,8)
Flyes (3-4x12,10,8)

BACK
Chins or Wide Grip Pulldowns (3-4x10-12)
One Arm Dumbbell Row (3-4x8-10)

SHOULDERS
Steep Incline Dumbbell Press (3x8-10)
Lateral Raise (3x8-10)

BICEPS
Bent Bar Curls (3-4x8-10)

TRICEPS
Dips/Triceps Press Machine (3-4x12)
Pulley Pushdowns (4x12)

DAY 2 - LOWER BODY

LEGS
Squat (4x12, 10, 8, 6)
Stiff Legged Deadlift (3x10)

Leg Extensions (3-4x12)
supersetted with
Leg Curls (3-4x10-12)

Standing and/or Calf Raises (4xMax)


Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 05-06-2006 14:31
Fools' work is never done.
And I spend the whole week end making the above quotation true and proving myself belonging to the said IQ-challenged folks.

List of chores done on Sunday.

5:30—Rise and shine(You’ve got to be kidding).

5:55—6:10. Bus stop. Hailing and boarding the red double-deckered beast.

6:45. Somewhere in the deep rural Barnet (such places still exist in London, believe it, or not!), outside the front door of the house number 45.

6:55—7:40. Three jogging laps in the park; three sets of skipping(100 each), 3 supersets of “froggy kicks” for the stomach and press-ups for the chest. 25 and 16 respectively. All in the company of another ginger-haired early bird and observed closely by wrinkled, crinkled, hung-over to the back teeth male subject of Eastern European appearance.

8:00-8:55. Well deserved cup of coffee and a hair cut, given to me by incomparable and unparalleled Ms Vindetta.
9:14-10:00. Bus ride home. Churches bells tolling everywhere and the God-fearing folks hurrying to the morning Mass.

10:00—10:30. Newly acquired “I am looking just like my brother now” look inspected and OK’ed by my husband (It’ll be the first! For the man, who simply loathe short hair on women.) Shower. Quick cuppa (“Earl Grey”. Green. Ha-ha. Didn’t intent it, as a joke.) “Energy boost” breakfast of my own invention: peanut butter, mixed with flax seeds. 2 table spoons. Supplements.

11:00—12:30. “Pig’s Farm”. No, not to get closer to nature and the smell of manure. Pigs’ variety smells revolting, by the way.
Car boot sale. First proper one since Easter. Due to the glorious weather. Huge field, packed to the fences with cars, stall holders, heaps and heaps of, well…, stuff. AND, for some inexplicable reason, primarily Russian-Ukranian-Polish-Lethuanian crowd of bargain hunters. I guess, they must be in season now. (Nearly said “On the heat”. Would’ve been appropriate anyhow, as it WAS a VERY hot day.) It will be gipsies’ time later on in summer.
Items bought.1. Man's leather pilot’s jacket. Size-XL. Price-2 pounds fifty pens.

2. Two pairs of non-slippery working gloves. Luminescent orange. 50 pens each. Pound for the whole lot.
3. Beautiful sarong. Deep terracotta with gold trim. 50 pens.
Four pounds spent in total. Amount of enjoyment—priceless.(And, as you, probably already knew, “For everything else there is MasterCard”. Which I, now being all grown-up and sensible, stopped abusing long time ago.)

13:00-14:00 . “Tesco”. Weekly food shopping. Sixty quid spent. Contents of other people’s trolleys scrutinized. Don’t ask.

14:20-14:40. Two people being misfortunate enough to belong to the short list of our friends, given my “hostess under the stress” treatment. Well, if you turn up at our front door unannounced AND when we are already out of it, kitted out in our” gym rugs (water bottle in hand, lifting gloves at the ready), don’t blame me for speedy “Here is your tea. Sugar? Milk? Finished? Come on. We are leaving.” kind of guest entertainment.

14:50-15:00. DIY store on the way to the gym. 20 rubble sacks for the spot of "merry midday digging” later on.

15:15-16:30. “Muscle Limit Gym”. Back training. Hot, stuffy air. Ronnie Colman's new training video “The price of redemption II” on the screen. Music's volume turned, surprisingly, to medium range (normally, the decibels are shaking the floor and almost taking off the glass roof).

17:00-18:00. Quick recess at home in front of the telly with half a gallon of protein drink (him) and a few “bits and pieces” of domestic errands: washing up, laundry, cooking and hovering (me).

18:00-20:00. Digging. Shovelling. Carrying. Throwing. Bending. And lifting. AND lifting. AND even more lifting. All twenty bags, filled up by the One and Only, Mrs. Bulldozer herself, and ready for recycling.
The above activities combined with more cooking, washing, making endless cups of tea; filling up the washing line with the ”Surf” smelling laundry and taking pictures of our labours’ results.

20:00-21:00. Eating. With the capital “E”. Everything in sight. Few feeble(and failed) attempts to either read a book, or watch the telly.

21:00. “Lights out, show is over!” time. (With all due respect, Freddy, and the rest of the “Queen”, sometimes it’s NOT such a good idea for the show to “go on”. If ours will any longer, there won't be any performers left soon, at the rate we are expending ourselves.) Oh, blessed be the God Morpheus and the Land of Golden Slumber.

Well, the list of tasks is over. As is, unsurprisingly, the day itself. "Where does the time go?" is the appropriate question here, and the rethorical one at that... You know what I actually planned to do this week end? Even if you are not a brain surgeon, three guesses will be enough for you to join me in the chorus of “Relax! Relax! Relax!”

“AS IF!”... Like my son might’ve said.




Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 03-06-2006 11:25
...and two smokin' barrels (last night arms training).
Blasting it into the summer Draper's style.



Wrist Curls (3-5x20, 15, 15, 15, 15)
tri-setted with
"Hammer" curl (3-5x10, 8, 8, 8, 6)
and
Pulley Pushdowns (3-5x12-15)

Bent Bar Curls (3-5x6-8)
supersetted with
Dips (3-5x12-15)

Dumbbell Alternate Curls (3-5x6-8)
supersetted with
Overhead or Lying Triceps Extensions (3-5x12, 10, 8, 8,

Stomach crunches (3x25)
supersetted with
Hyperextensions (3x25).

And if I couldn't get into my favourite military jacket this morning(could not get the sleeves past the elbow joints), I've got only myself (AND Dave) to blame (shouldn't it be "thank"?) for it.

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 31-05-2006 14:44
Twice, as nice.
It’s always nice to get a compliment, even if it’s a little bit fanciful one.
“Has anybody ever told you, that you look, like red-haired Audrey Hepburn?”

No, nobody ever has, and… AUDREY HEPBURN? Seriously? However delusional I sometimes might be, especially where my looks are concerned, THIS I would never buy. Well, in the dim light, face-three quarter turn to the camera, certain eye make-up and I might (just might) pass for the Fair Lady’s slightly porkier Russian-born second cousin. I might even start referring to my uniform, as “my little black dress”(and, thankfully, it IS black) and to my morning “Mirror” cafe’s "cheese-and-tomatoe omelets" affairs, as “Breakfasts at Tiffany’s”.
Nevertheless, while it IS always nice to be paid a compliment (and by a woman, too), to be compared to the great beauty and style icon makes it almost the cause for Annual Movies' Award acceptance speech. "Erm,.. yeah,.. I would like to take this opportunity to thank everybody for..." ...sniff, sniff,...drip, drip,... No, sod the verbal diarrhea, nasal and occhinal fluids, and the golden statuette. I'll keep the compliment,thank you very much, and could I have whipped cream with it and a cherry on the top, please?

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 26-05-2006 08:08
Draper here. "The only way is UP".
"You're in a slump. We all have them, the valleys of our lives, those
regrettable times when nothing goes right, contentment and achievement are
vague memories, and future expectations of either are doubtful.

It's not one thing in particular that knocks you out of whack; it's an
accumulation of things. The world is falling apart at the seams. Your
immediate surroundings are maddening -- traffic, weather, leaky roof,
potholes, bills, the sameness of things. And the gym is not the answer as
it should be, but part of the problem -- weights are heavy, joints ache,
no pump, sweatpants are tight in the waist, t-shirt is baggy in the
shoulders, lousy attitude and lousy mirrors.

Eating junk or taking a lay off -- common approaches to manage the mess --
only make it worse. Negativity spawns negativity and you tire in attempts
to raise your heavy spirits.

Sometimes you've gotta let go and be still. This does not mean give up or
give in; it means stay tight and hold on, look and listen. It's called
being strong... and courageous, confident, hopeful, patient, disciplined,
slightly desperate and a little mad.

This is tougher than you think, bombers. Look what we're dealing with.

The world situation: Who can fix it? We've been trying forever, here we
are today and it's still a beautiful mess. Still, our individual
participation is vital. Don't do anything to make it worse, and maintain a
positive and productive atmosphere around you. Contribute where you can
with your talents, knowledge, awareness and energy, and recognize in your
head and heart that you are doing just that. You count. You influence your
surroundings far more than you realize. Your smile can light up a room;
your glare that room can darken. Imagine what your laughter can accomplish
right about now. Earthshaking.

The local situation: It's called daily living. We all face it, endure it
and cope with it. Now is the time to recall we have also loved it,
applauded it and could not get our fill of it. The road is winding and
rough, and then it's a highway. There's the storm and there's the calm,
the steep climb and the mountain's peak. One cannot be without the other,
you note, if you're paying attention. Here it comes again. Breathe deep;
grab on, hold tight and go with the flow. Look up; observe, learn and
grow. This too will pass.

The training situation: Before we talk about the gym and the iron, throw a
net around your diet and pull it in. When folks get blue, they head to the
fridge for ice cream. If that doesn't work, they're into the kitchen
cupboard for cookies. The phone is the next source for sausage pizza from
Luigi's Italian Hut. Finally, it's the family, the family car and The
Swedish Smorgy across town. All you can eat, $1.99.

Eating lots of garbage to chase a mean attitude is like adding dry timber
to a raging forest fire. Stay cool. No littering.

The gym situation: ah, the only place you have control. Even when the
weights are virtually bolted to the floor, you have control. You can
practice exhilarating isometrics, exertion with no apparent purpose other
than pure exertion. Ugh! Deeply rewarding and downright fun, pain with no
relief. That, indeed, is the worse scenario I can think of. You've gotta
give the old-timers a lot of credit, pushing and straining and groaning
without movement, pump or achievement... only trembling and deep, dark,
silent pain. Mercy, it's gotta get better from here.

A light bulb goes on. Let's move light weights, since the heavy weights
won't. We have nothing to lose and everything to gain. We are in the grips
of a slump and the only thing standing in the way is the towering
unquenchable ego -- a hairy monster with a big stomach and a little brain.
The intellect tells us muscle in motion under resistance stimulates tissue
growth, and adds to the entire system's health and wellbeing. Commonsense
and experience tell us not every day is triumphant. And the Good Book
tells us there is a season for everything, reaping and sowing, pumping and
burning. Today, it's light weights with focus on form and muscle
stimulation; high burning reps rather than low power reps; feeling,
discovering and enjoying instead of intense exertion, maximum
concentration and critical pain.

The path to accomplishment is not always straight and clearly defined.
Sometimes the traveler, if he is savvy, will abandon the ordinary trail to
circumvent perceived obstacles. He might, for expedience, try a direction
less frequently chosen. Or, the rascal might go left instead of right
simply because he wishes to -- the freedom and fun of it. Sometimes eager
steps forward are, in fact, steps too many, steps backwards or steps into
the abyss. Where one day heavy weights engender hypertrophy, another day
they may engender injury. Squats today, as duly prescribed, might overload
the knee or back if the lifter is unfocused and out of touch.

If you don't have the desire, brain fuel, mettle, oomph or heart to blast
it, make a series of snaps, crackles and pops. They're less explosive and
get the job done. They tickle and tease and are entertaining. What have
you got to lose this day already in question?

The years in the gym and under the iron have a way of wearing you down. To
carry on you must be inventive and half crazy. A worn-down lifter no one
can tolerate, neither the lifter himself nor those within a stone's throw.
Worn-down lifters, like those tossed stones, become pebbles, then sand and
grit, and finally dust. I'm allergic to dust. Dust makes me sneeze..."

Yeah, he is right, as alwayas, good ol' Dave. He's got this uncanny knack of summing up my problems and coming up with the solution. And if, at nearly 65 years of age, he could be optimistic, enthusiastic and motivating, what right do I have to be anything BUT at thirty-something. And speaking of allergenic substanses, though it did say in the Bible, "ashes to ashes and dusr to dust", I don't reckon I've reached this particular stage just yet. Think I'd better blow my nose and follow Draper's somewhat steep but, oh, such a promising path.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 21-05-2006 11:04
This is the house that Jack built...
******************************

This is the rat
That ate the malt
That lay in the house that Jack built.

This is the cat,
That killed the rat,
That ate the malt
That lay in the house that Jack built.

This is the dog,
That worried the cat,
That killed the rat,
That ate the malt
That lay in the house that Jack built.

This is the cow with the crumpled horn,
That tossed the dog,
That worried the cat,
That killed the rat,
That ate the malt
That lay in the house that Jack built.

This is the maiden all forlorn,
That milked the cow with the crumpled horn,
That tossed the dog,
That worried the cat,
That killed the rat,
That ate the malt
That lay in the house that Jack built.

This is the man all tattered and torn,
That kissed the maiden all forlorn,
That milked the cow with the
crumpled horn,
That tossed the dog,
That worried the cat,
That killed the rat,
That ate the malt
That lay in the house that Jack built.

This is the priest all shaven and shorn,
That married the man all tattered and torn,
That kissed the maiden all forlorn,
That milked the cow with the crumpled horn,
That tossed the dog,
That worried the cat,
That killed the rat,
That ate the malt
That lay in the house that Jack built.

This is the cock that crowed in the morn,
That waked the priest all shaven and shorn,
That married the man all tattered and torn,
That kissed the maiden all forlorn,
That milked the cow with the crumpled horn,
That tossed the dog,
That worried the cat,
That killed the rat,
That ate the malt
That lay in the house that Jack built.

This is the farmer sowing the corn,
That kept the the cock that crowed in the morn,
That waked the priest all shaven and shorn,
That married the man all tattered and torn,
That kissed the maiden all forlorn,
That milked the cow with the crumpled horn,
That tossed the dog,
That worried the cat,
That killed the rat,
That ate the malt
That lay in the house that Jack built.

***************************************

This is one mighty messy house, if you ask me. Wouldn't you say so? But at least THIS Jack has HIS house already built. I, on the other hand, has mine in what officially known in Enfield Coincill books, as "building work commencement". It IS messy too, I grant you that. But ours is completely different from Jack's happy-slappy cosy kind of a mess. Ours has nothing to do with jolly, sowing corn, farmers; or cleanly-shaven priests, marrying cow-milking maidens, witnessed by the whole menagerie of domestic animals. All surrounded by rolling hills of English rural country-side, covered in "green-green grass of home". It's got to do with digging and shovelling tons and tons of clay, muddy wellington boots, calloused hands and aching muscles. And, as it transpiered from almost 9 hours of yesterday's manual labour, before we got to the famous nursery character's blissful stage, I might end up as a "Jack with a broken back".

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 19-05-2006 07:59
The bigger the car...
If it's true, what they say about the size of the man's car being in reversed proportion to its owner's, erm..., manhood "vital statistics", then half male population of London needs penis enlargements.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 17-05-2006 08:29
Theme of the day. WISDOM.
"Wise people are those who see, that while life is real, life’s problems are an illusion they have thought-created. These people know that we manufacture and blow problems way out of proportion through our own ability to think. They also know, that if we can step outside the boundaries of our own thinking, we can find the answers we are looking for.
This, in the nutshell, is wisdom: the ability to see an answer without having to think of it. Wisdom is the “ah ha, that’s so obvious” experience most of us have had many times. Few people seem to understand that this voice is always available to us.
Wisdom is indeed your inner sense of knowing. It is true mental health, a peaceful state of mind, where answers to questions are as plentiful, as the problems you see, when you are not experiencing wisdom. It’s as if wisdom lies in the space between your thoughts, in those quiet moments, when your “biological computer” is turned off.
Wisdom is your healthy functioning in action. It’s a tool, that you can use to guide you through life. Wisdom is more useful and powerful than your normal thinking. It can answer any question you may have. Whenever you are confronted with a question or problem, clear your mind, quieten down, and ask your wisdom for an answer. You may be surprised at what you receive."

(From "Stop thinking. Start living." book by Richard Carlson.)

**************************************************
************

Though taken out of contest, it still makes perfect sense, doesn't it?



Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 12-05-2006 17:10
Are you taking the P***SS?
A huge thickly-set “rocker-cum-biker” type guy(cluster of chunky silver rings on meaty fingers, grayish pony tail, multi-pocketed leather waist-coat, heavy workman boots) walks into the gym and asks in the politest, well elocuted, cut-glass, upper middle class English imaginable:
” I’ve got a trapped nerve in my neck. Would you mind,
if I came in and stretched here, on the mats?”
“Of course, I would not. Come on in.”

The guy:”For the past three weeks I’ve been doing it ON THE DISABLED TOILET'S FLOOR."
(!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 11-05-2006 11:52
You’re so V-E-I-N !!!


Finally!!!
Could see the delicate blue pattern of veins snaking under the skin of my arms. And one particularly stubborn one, normally hidden, going through the side and the top of my bicep.
Well, don’t even have to think: THIS song is definitely about me. AND, yes, since you've asked, I am V-A-I-N!

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 10-05-2006 08:37
Envi-ROOM-mental piece of mind.
On the scale of global development, this latest crazy idea of mine is not likely to make any impact; nor it is going to produce any ripple of excitement on the still surface of the stagnant pool of modern science. I even dare to declare, that it will never make it to the any educational cum entertaining programmes of the “Discovery channel”. Nevertheless, what I am about to unveil in front of the eyes of my enchanted audience is the second important enlightenment of my life. Stumbled upon completely by accident and made unquestionably single-handedly. And all the time you thought it would be a plump fluffy bunny, pulled out of the silk black depth of Magician’s hat, did you? Well, to console any unhappy customers still expecting magic mambo-jumbo, rabbits, hats, beautiful girls in the box, sawn straight through,, I could only promise to try and match all of the above with my usual generous quantity of verbal gold dust and to be as entertaining, as the format of “Microsoft” Word will allow.
The brainstorm hit me at a very unexpected moment, when, off-guardedly and totally unaware, I was watching deceptively innocent Channel Four TV programme, called “Modern house”.
I am not going to elaborate on the content of this particular viewing, as I wasn’t even that attentive, half-watching, half-reading, when I saw IT. A room. In a house in hilly area of Japan. Big, square, with ash-wooded flooring, almost empty room, but for a chair next to the window. And what a window it was! Glass-plated wall overlooking a valley, covered in bamboo forest. The breathing and moving sea of green.
The image of air, space, calm, peace, the feeling of eternity and the “world between the palms of your hands” was transmitted from the television screen and straight into my heart and mind. There was a girl in that room, playing a violin. Small, graceful, barefoot. The picture couldn’t be more complete, more perfect in it's’ simplicity and harmony. Whatever you add up to it, would be out of place there, odd and foreign.
I wanted to be in THAT room, wanted to sit in THAT chair, in front of THAT window, watching the sun rising above and falling into THAT endless waves of green tide. AND listen to the primitive almost plaintive sounds of THAT violin.
And THAT was the moment, when the lightning flashed. I could! And any time I want to! All I have to do is keep this image in my head, “furnish” the interior of my mind with it, if you wish, and observe the life from this vantage point and through the prism of cool green light of bamboo shoots.
Aren’t our minds EXACTLY, like rooms? Aren’t we sometimes lock ourselves in them for too long without re-decorating, letting the wall paper go yellow and moldy; allowing the cob-webs gather in the dark corners and piles of dust grow under the too many pieces of furniture? It’s up to us, I thought, to feng-shui our minds every now and then, exactly the way we do our rooms; go crazy every once in a while, change the style and design, shift things around, move them out of the way or chuck them out of the window to allow the free flow of energy.
I don’t want my mind to become a stuffy attic, littered with mock antic junk. I want it to be a light spacious converted loft, decorated in minimalist Zen-Buddhist style.
Of course, some might feel they don’t need to pack their minds in ANY kind of room at all. They could simply free their minds and let them join the stream of the cosmic energy. If you’re capable of it too, then proudly (or humbly) join the ranks of the “chosen ones”: Buddha, Jesus, Don Juan (curt nod to Ms DireXtor).
If, on the other hand you managed to lure most of the population of your fellow countrymen into the windowless room with only “photo of a leader on the white wall” and kept them there for decades, stupefied and picking fluff out of their belly buttons, then your surname is, most probably, Lenin or Hitler.(Hopefully, this particular room is now firmly shut and properly locked and is for historical references only.)
Anyway, cutting back to the chase, for a week now I’ve been living in my house on the hills, sticking my head out whenever the situation required and diving back into its welcoming bliss whenever I feel like it. And have to admit, this is my perfect room and my ideal state of mind, which, for quite a while I don’t intend to change. OR TO REDECORATE.
For what it was worth, you’ve got it now, my “Theory of d-ROMM-matic deco-ROOM”. Sure, I am well aware of the fact, that compare to the Eternity, it will pale into insignificance. But since it was established long time ago by somebody with far more authority on the subject, than poor amateurish “yours truly”(who was it, anyway?), that “Environment defines Existence”, I am sticking with it.


Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 05-05-2006 13:49
Master-blaster.
Since it's almost a 9th Herculian labour(and NOT the one of love) to train while on your shift, I am writing about my proposed tonight training in the faint hope, that it will motivate me to execute the actual chore rather, than simply verbilising(or is it "virtualising" nowdays?)it.
Also will try to keep 1. a straight face, 2. a dead-pan expression and 3. use as heavy weights as it femininly possible, in order to discourage the surge of curiosity from the usual "gym suspects" and to stave off very probable questions from Friday "gym tourists". Examples of the former: "Oh, I've never done this one before. Could you quickly run through it with me, please?"("Can't you effin' see, I am in the middle of the set ???!!!"; and of the latter "What time are you open untill tonight?" ("Bloody seven pm!!! AND you would've known it, has it not been your first time this year due to impending, in two weeks, holiday!!!"

Well, here it is, anyway, one of my "body blasters". Now I've recorded it, there might be a good chance of me scraping that ol' fat behind off the office chair and enjoying it.

Superset 1.

Chin-ups/Dips


Superset 2.

"Corinna's lunges"/bicep curls. (This one is more of a multi set, than a superset. Lunges and bicep curles are conducted at the same time. You step back with one foot, and, as you start lowering you body, bend your arms, lifting the DBs for the bicep exercise. When you get up, lower the weights. Finish the set of lunges and bicep curls without changing the leg, and when you do the lunges for the other side, you could combine them with any other upper body movement. Lateral raises for instance).


Superset 3.

Dead lifts/Stomach crunches.

Repeat this curcuit as many times, as desired. Or, as many, as you've got strength for. It's my personal favourite for saving time and giving me a break from the ususal, routine'ed, work outs.









Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 04-05-2006 12:06
"Another one bites the dust..."
...Муся, direXtor... Who's next?

A cry of a little orphan left alone in a big, empty, scay world.

Come back. P-L-E-A-S-E!!!
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 03-05-2006 06:47
Living la vida low-carb.
Just a little something I’ve unearthed with the help of my ever favourite “Mascular Development” magazine. And with a little bit of Net surfing.

“While the media never gets tired of proudly proclaiming the end of low-carb, there is an event happening in January that is sure to silence and stun even the harshest critics of the low-carb lifestyle.

It's called the” Nutritional & Metabolic Aspects of Carbohydrate Restriction” conference and it is coming to Brooklyn, New York from January 20-22, 2006. (Already been and gone, but it doesn’t make it less interesting, does it?)

Some of the leading scientists and researchers on the frontlines of the low-carb battle will be in attendance presenting their latest findings about low-carb, controlled-carb, glycemic index, high-protein diets and much more. They will show how these eating approaches are being used to treat and help people with diabetes, high cholesterol, obesity, and other health ailments.

Practical applications of implementing a carbohydrate restricted diet approach will be presented at the conference to help people understand the very clear evidence that exists regarding how well it works to control weight and improve health.

Some of the topics that will be discussed include:

- Clinical aspects of a low carbohydrate diet program
- Central and peripheral nutrient sensing in the control of food intake
- Nutrient reinforcement and satiety
- Energy expenditure during overfeeding
- Insulin signaling and insulin resistance
- Genetic Markers for Dietary Treatment of Metabolic Syndrome
- Lipid-Carbohydrate Interaction in Insulin Secretion
- Carbohydrate-induced hypertriglyceridemia
- Impact of dietary protein on glycemic control and weight loss
- PEPCK and control of gluconeogenesis
- Inhibition of lipid synthesis enzymes as a therapeutic strategy: Lessons from knockout models
- Dietary bioactives that modulate inflammation
- Metabolic mechanisms of heart failure

This conference is on the cutting edge of the future of health science and will surely have an impact on the perceptions about low-carb living that continue to lurk about out there in the medical community and in the press.
Among those speakers who will be in attendance at the conference include, Richard Feinman, PhD, Jeff S. Volek, PhD, RD, Eric C. Westman, MD, Donald K. Layman, PhD, Mary C. Vernon, MD, FAAFP, CMD. These men and women are heroes of the low-carb lifestyle and should be personally thanked by those of us who have made low-carb our way of life. They are now confirming all the theories that Dr. Atkins put forth about livin' la vida low-carb. He was right after all (But of course, he was!!! And, hopefully, ungreatful mankind will recognize his achievements sooner or later. If not---more the fools them!!!)

Among the key findings reviewed at the conference:

* A controlled carbohydrate lifestyle is an effective way to manage Type 2 diabetes blood sugar control. Patients are consistently able to reduce or eliminate medication.

* Recent evidence supports the benefits of a controlled carbohydrate
lifestyle for cardiac risk factors such as low HDL and small LDL
lipoprotein pattern.

* A controlled carbohydrate lifestyle may be the best treatment for
metabolic syndrome, a precursor condition to diabetes and cardiovascular disease.

“MD”s fat attack column. “Wrapping it all up”.

“The most interesting observation from the conference was that every scientist, who presented, was lean, healthy and full of energy. The food served for breakfast and lunch everyday included meat, shrimp, cheeses, eggs, bacon and vegetables. Bread was also available, but no one ate it. This is different from other nutrition conferences, where this experts are often overweight, and the typical breakfast and lunch fare includes bagels, cereals, juice, sandwiches and soda…
Carbohydrate restricted diets are continually being studied so their long-term effects are fully understood. In so far, CR diets are not harmful, but are beneficial for people with health risks related to diabetes and heart disease. If you choose to follow a CR diet you can be assured that there is, and will continue to be, convincing scientific research to back up your decision.”


Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 28-04-2006 16:27
)))))))))))))))))
http://www.ediet.ru/s.php/2266.htm
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 26-04-2006 11:44
Another brick in THE WALL.
Could listen to “Pink Floyd”s “Wall” time and time again. But the "WALL" I’m now thinking about is of another variety. No, not "Oasis" "Wonderwall" either. Not even your common brick-and-concrete kind. Mine is more of a metaphorical type, that place in your life, where the going gets tough. So tough, in fact, that many never make it beyond the wall. It’s rather, like a runner, cruising along a steady clip, when he or she hits “the wall”. Here is where you are really tested at the gut level. Here pain becomes a major factor. Life IS actually a sort of a hurdling course, where walls are just thrown in for a good measure. Walls, which must be climbed. And climbing the wall will separate the men from the boys, so to speak. Though I do consider myself belonging to the world of female species.
Procrastination, in which state I currently find myself, is a huge wall for almost everyone and it surfaced very unexpectedly out of seemingly nowhere and now stares me in the face in all it's’ ugliness. Ugh!!! Well, I suppose, you reap, what you so, and if you don’t sow you won’t reap any crop. You can whine about any of hundreds reasons, why your ideas won’t work, but unless you get out AND at it, you’ll never truly know. An invisible barrier is holding you back from doing, what you really would like to do. That wall, though unseen, is very real and very tough.
Walls are primarily mental. Most of then exist in our minds. Pain is physical, but an observer cannot see it. No one but ourselves know, where the wall is, and, regardless of it, it’s dealt with in the mind. The whole “wall” concept is hard, but it is necessary for growth. Without walls we could do anything with impunity and never be challenged on a deep level. What would differentiate the tough from the timid? What would separate the soft from the sharp? The wall does.
The first step in dealing with a wall in any area of life is to recognize that one is there.
The second is to scale it. Not everyone might think that way, but to me, it’s the only way to get ahead of the game. If you stop and let the wall beat you, you’ll remain, where you are. Excuses won’t exempt you. You will still remain short of your goals, whatever they might be-money, job, millionaire husband(ha-ha), or, something a bit closer to home, perhaps: health and fitness, hard streamlined body, athletic physique. Or, even simpler: three times a week in a gym and NO chocolates 5 days out of seven.
The first step in scaling your wall is faith, total beleive, that you can move on to a new level. The second is a whole-hearted commitment to doing just that. An iron-clad commitment is a powerful tool. Determination, persistence and all the basics of self-discipline must be there with you, when you hit the wall. It will test you to your deepest level, and you will find out, you’ve got, what it takes. What, if you don’t? What, if you have been beaten before, or have failed in an attempt to climb the new wall? There is no law, that says, once you are down, you are out. One definition of success is simply getting up one more time than you have been knocked down. No one goes through life unscathed, even though some people would like to have you think that. There are no magic carpets to fly us over the wall and no formulas for an instant success in this life, but it might be worth mentioning here, that we are what we think we can be.

And just for the heck of it, here it is: one of the "Pink Floyd"s greatest hits:

We don't need no education. .
We don't need no thought control. .
No dark sarcasm in the classroom. .
Teacher, leave those kids alone. .
Hey, Teacher, leave those kids alone! .
All in all it's just another brick in the wall. .
All in all you're just another brick in the wall. .
We don't need no education. .
We don't need no thought control. .
No dark sarcasm in the classroom. .
Teachers, leave those kids alone. .
Hey, Teacher, leave those kids alone! .
All in all you're just another brick in the wall. .
All in all you're just another brick in the wall. .


Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 25-04-2006 17:08
The "F...." word.
No, it is NOT, what you might’ve thought it was. NOT an expletive. Don’t use this kind of language, not me. Well-bread, well-spoken, well-mannered ladies, like myself, do not swear in public, though, God knows, I do get my share of temptations on more than a couple of occasions a day, EVERY DAY.
The “F” is for “FOOD”, that yummy stuff we get to stick into our pie-holes several times a day. AND, if we don’t forget to use our brains in the process some individuals might even choose something, which is actually good for them. Of the latter sin I am usually guilty as charged. Even managed to stay quite lean throughout the winter, emerging into the spring almost free of seasonal pudginess and hybernational flabbiness. “Fish for supper” approach seem to be working really well and comes highly recommended. But as of now I will need to start planning for the summer, adjusting the training a bit and tweaking the diet a lot.
After long and productive deliberation, the tactics are boiled down to following: one hour cardio first thing in the morning and 30-45mins in the evening, after the weight training.
As for the most important component of any successful “on-season” condition, it still going to be “fish for supper” with four predecessing meals: eggs, cottage cheese, white meat, meal replacement (protein bar or drink). One cheat day at the end of the week (Saturday, I think) should cover any sudden cravings I might have and take care of confusing the body’s metabolism and not letting it get into starvation mode.
Well, with my track record the ol' bod will probably think “Oh, here we go again. The mad bitch is after me”, give up and get busy shedding the fat without even thinking of resisting. After all, since this system has worked before, there is no reason why it should suddenly fail me now. Even less reason for me to start getting smart and to think up some new ways of going down the old route.
As they say:” If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it”.

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 24-04-2006 15:00
Depressing poem.
Or should it be "DEEP PRESSING?

I've no desire to laugh.
Even less desire to cry.
The only one I've got
Is to lie down and die.


Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 18-04-2006 13:59
More of Dave's wisdom.
Sugar and alcohol nibble and bite. Trans-fatty acids clog and blight.

Right about now an intelligent advocate might say, "Avoid such weak
behavior and avoid the consequences." Intelligent, but not smart. That’s
like saying, "Be a good boy, Johnny. Don’t do that anymore, Jane. Okay?
Promise? Pinky promise. There you go, you cute rascals." Yeah, right! See
ya later.

You want to get in shape, you want to build muscle, and you want to be
strong. Swell! But you can’t follow a simple diet, you’re unable to deny
yourself for an evening and you lack the remotest discipline. Well, then,
you don’t have a chance, do you? Or it’s going to take forever, with a
mountain of cliff-hanging discouragements and unhealthy disappointments
along the way. But you don’t understand, some of you say, it’s my mother,
my father, the kids, the stress, the habits, the culture, the career...
yeah, yeah, yeah. A society of tolerance will give you a hundred reasons
why you’re in the predicament you’re in. Fact is, you ate pizza and drank
beer while you sat on the couch and watched the tube, period. You did it
before and you’ll do it again and that’s the way it works.

Excuses have no place in the life of a bomber.

The answers I offer are 10 short, two-word commands, uncomplicated,
unequivocal, indisputable and almost hallowed: Stop it. Right now. Don’t
submit. Train hard. Eat right. Be strong. Know thyself. Love thyself. Be
happy. Be wise.

Take heart. We’ll break these commands, experience them, and break them
again before we can know them and keep them... kinda like other commands
we know and live by according to our own authority, and the authority of
powers mightier than us.

Some folks have real problems. To them I offer my heartfelt understanding
and best wishes and prayers.

2) Skipping a workout, because... I feel icky, there’s a nip in the air, I
have knot in my shoelace, I’m snoozy, it’s President’s Day... the list of
excuses is endless, and some are almost valid.

There are times when we are absolutely compelled to miss a workout --
worldwide floods, plagues, earthquakes, the fiery end of civilization as
we know it, we’re out of... gasp... Bomber Blend -- and times when we
don’t need an excuse, rhyme or reason. We are liberated souls, after all.
I’m talking about those times that indicate the development of chronic
misbehavior, neglect and irresponsibility. Several times a year deserves
notice, once a week and we’re in trouble.

A weightlifting musclebuilder does not skip workouts. A true seeker of
muscle and might cannot omit a training session. A bodybuilder would
rather die. Unmotivated imposters miss workouts. Fraud, fakes and puffy
pretenders miss workouts. Hapless wimps and doodlers let their workouts
slide, sure, but not men and women of steel. To decline his training, the
lifter foregoes his purpose, joy and respect.

Think of life without oxygen, water, light and love. Now you understand.

Next time the occasion to skip a workout arises, ask yourself if it’s an
opportunity or a catastrophe? Will you submit to the moment or fight it
with all your heart, mind and strength? If you choose the former, you will
lose. You are the catastrophe.

A workout neglected is an opportunity lost. It weakens the structure.
Worse yet, it indicates a structure already weak.

Go to the gym, train hard and grow. Every bad gym-day becomes a great
gym-day, once you pass the front door. The cold ugly weights melt in your
hands and become as sculptures to the lover of art. Soreness dissipates
like the morning dew, and the strength of the hot sun fills your veins.
What was lifeless or hopeless is revived by the renewed power of inspired
hands. The gym enables, enlightens and inspires. The workout creates,
restores and fulfills. And you receive, respond and progress.

I’m almost done, bombers. Some of you are ready to fly -- I hear the
rumble and feel the vibrations.

The disappointment and discouragement that result from circumstances
beyond our control -- natural disaster, illness, accident and injury --
must be met straight on and handled with courage. These are the dreadful
incidents of which, it seems, half of life is comprised. Where there is
happiness, so is there misery. We know pleasure to the degree we know
pain. Joy and sorrow are doled out in unpredictable proportions. One thing
I know; the backbone and spunk needed to lift weights develop as do the
muscles, and these collective attributes are essential in countering
enemies of all sorts, shapes and sizes.

The disciplined characters who work out, eat right and meet the tests
regularly are the ones who survive the thrusts of disappointment and
discouragement, and are seldom depressed. You see, like osmosis, the iron
and steel has a way of entering the body and lining it with strength and
durability. The sets and reps provide resilience and internal energy. And
their combined application heightens the spirits. The three Ds --
disappointment, discouragement and depression -- enter the ranks of the
bombers, do their dastardly deeds and are exhausted like hot air. We
regard them as fuel to propel us.

Beyond personal courage, fortitude and mettle there’s something to be said
of Western Medicine in diminishing depression and its unlikable
precursors, disappointment and discouragement.

Authentic encouragement is the antidote to all three.

Prayer is priceless... God’s strength.

We have too much to live for to be grounded. Fight for height... DD

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 18-04-2006 13:59
You're simply the best, Dave.
In times of detachment, denial or pure and sheer frustration, who could I turn to, if not Dave. Where would I be, if he wasn't here to guide, to advice or, sometimes give me a good kick, exactly WHERE and WHEN it's needed. He's never failed me yet. Hope, he never will.

Draper here… Overcoming Discouragement and Disappointment

Can’t wait to see what resolutions I have for this pair of revolting
predicaments? Eat a bowl of ice cream, order a pizza, eat another bowl of
ice cream, have a beer, order another pizza, have a six-pack and have a
smoke. Order a pizza. Have a smoke and a beer while ordering a pizza. I’m
running out of original ideas, bombers. Perhaps I’ll call upon the IOL
forum for some straightforward advice. They know everything and they’re
very nice.

Discouragement and disappointment affect everyone in every area of life in
large or small degrees. These negative conditions, if they are severe and
recurrent, can lead to depression. And depression can be more than a
temporary discomfort; it can become a chronic and crushing disease.

The three undesirable conditions are states of mind and facts of life, and
we have control over them, more control than we think. And where we have
control we must apply it, or it is not control at all. It’s submission...
they control us.

As weightlifters and musclebuilders our hearty practices diminish or
eliminate many of the causes of these debilitating emotional assaults. We
set uplifting goals and, engaging our talents, desires and potentials,
strive to achieve them. We fight, we fall, we pick ourselves up, wipe
ourselves off and press on, developing always as we go. It works every
time, all the time.

Yet, discouragement and disappointment are unavoidable. The fact that we
are alive and self-directed makes us vulnerable to discouragement. The
fundamental need to put one foot before the other leaves us wide open for
disappointment. Any of our high hopes, ordinary mistakes, everyday
accidents, accumulated malfunctions, misunderstandings or
misinterpretations, trials and tribulations can set off the downward
assaults.

"It’s always somethin'," said Gilda Radner with natural resignation to her
universal, sympathetic and howling audience. If it’s not one thing, it’s
another.

Today we are specifically talking about situations relating to
musclebuilding and fat loss, weight training and getting in shape.
Examination of the associated efforts to improve in these areas would
indicate many of us experience more disappointment and discouragement than
fulfillment and success. This disproportion is insufferable, and deadly to
the cause. It can lead to quitting and can cause depression. And failure
in one area of life contaminates the entire life.

I suggest we’re dealing with two natures of a beastly predicament: there’s
disappointment and discouragement that we bring upon ourselves, and
there’s the discouragement and disappointment that broadsides us while
we’re innocently occupying our space. Both are nasty, the former requiring
preemptive action in the form of thought, caution and discipline, and the
latter, control and finesse from the heart and soul as the conditions
envelop us.

Allow me to offer a couple of general examples, a field upon which we
might study the wild beasts in their habitat and render them harmless...
or, at least, less harmful.

Foremost, the disappointment and discouragement that result from the
idiotic things we do by our own hands -- the things we have immediate
control over:

1) Sitting on the couch watching television and eating pizza and drinking
beer -- or something as common and hideous (other variations include ice
cream and cookies while reading Flex, cola and fries and watching Pumping
Iron, chocolates and cell phones, chips and video games).

I don’t care if it’s your birthday or the Broncos are playing or it’s
Thursday night with the goils or you’re just hungry and pooped. It’s dumb.
This is a large problem and it’s gonna cost you big time... later,
tomorrow, the next day and the next. The fall of the dominoes has begun.

You have just set yourself up for hardcore discouragement and
disappointment. Are you willing to pay that price? Think about it. There’s
no forgiveness. At some point you are going to feel weak, fat and stupid.
There will be times alone when you pinch the skin around your waist... oh,
crap... and notice how tight your underwear fits... rats... and say in
disgust, "Why did I do that?" Burp, gurgle! This is to say nothing about
the bloat and indigestion you’ll experience, sure signs of disrespect for
your health and well-being. Guilt is a mean companion, unrelenting, almost
sadistic.

And where’s the vein you saw crossing your biceps? Did it get to the other
side and keep on going?

Anger accompanies this self-cast disappointment. I’ll do what I want, when
and where I want, you’ll say, I’m free. Of course, that lie is as old as
the hills, you won’t buy it and you’ll continue to hate and beat yourself
instead.


[Запись для всех] 07-04-2006 12:18
INDIAN WITH ONE TESTICLE.
Forwarded by Ironorchid (thanks, Len, I laughed) and is highly recommended for light entertainment.

>There once was a Red Indian whose given name was "Onestone". So named
>because he had only one testicle. He hated that name and asked everyone
>not to call him Onestone.
>
>After years and years of torment, Onestone finally cracked and said,
>"If anyone calls me Onestone again I will kill them!" The word got
>around and nobody called him that any more.
>
>Then one day a young woman named Blue Bird forgot and said, "Good
>morning, Onestone." He jumped up, grabbed her and took her deep into the
>forest where he made love to her all day and all night. He made love to
>her all the next day, until Blue Bird died from exhaustion.
>
>The word got around that Onestone meant what he promised he would do.
>Years went by and no one dared call him by his given name until a woman
>named Yellow Bird returned to the village after being away for many
>years.
>
>Yellow Bird, who was Blue Bird's cousin, was overjoyed when she saw
>Onestone. She hugged him and said, "Good to see you, Onestone."
>
>Onestone grabbed her, took her deep into the forest, then he made love
>to her all day, made love to her all night, made love to her all the
>next day, made love to her all the next night, but Yellow Bird wouldn't
>die!
>
>What is the moral of this
>story?????............................OH, come on...take a guess! .
>
>
>
>Think about it
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>(You're going to love this!)


And the moral is...
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>You can't kill two birds with one stone!!!
>
>
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 05-04-2006 06:49
CCTWee.
Announcement on the Tube last night:
"Would the gentleman, urinating on that door, stop doing it, please!!! You are being O-B-S-E-R-V-E-D!!!"
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 01-04-2006 11:55
Notning, like a compliment.
A long-hand of the conversation with one of my female gym members, taken place yesterday afternoon. Have a very reliable eye(and ear) witness to the whole thing, in case anybody might have any doubts, as to the authenticity of the following exchange.

She (coming in for a shower, bright, breezy and cheerful):”Hello, Marina. How are you? Gosh, you look stressed. What’s up?”

She is a very nice girl, Vanessa, not catty at all, but very direct and plain speaking. And if she said I am stressed after a mere glance in my direction, then it must be evident to the rest of our membership list too. It might be very likely, then, that it’s not the football on the telly responsible for the “slow” day today(read “complete vacuum in the gymnasium from twelve noon onwards”.) Could it be the hostile vibes I produce, that seep through the gym door and out into the corridor, through the fire escape exit, onto the stair case and into the office floors, circulating with the processed air via ventilation shaft, inhaled by poor, unsuspecting members of my flock, breeding anxiety and installing fear in them? Not a bad thing altogether, mind, providing it’s not going to affect my monthly figures and the payroll. But, anyway, back to our dialog.

I (caught in the middle of the challenging training session with a difficult client, to say the least, hot and sweaty, blood pumping and heart thumping): “Hi, Vanessa. No, I am not stressed out. It’s more to do with the muscles I’ve pulled. Here, here and here(pointing at the chest, back and calf). The pain is excruciating. Had to take couple of handfulls of painkillers to at least let me move. And they make me… ”

She (not letting me finish and VERY helpfully and sympathetically) “Even more ABNORMAL, than you NORMALLY are?”

Needless to elaborate, I guess, on the subject of what kind of reputation I’ve established for myself at my work place and what high opinion is bestowed on me by Fitness Centre's frequenters and patrons.
Never mind, guys, don’t you worry. I’ll try and live it down!!!

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 30-03-2006 11:27
The BOTTOM line.
Simply can’t live without good ol’ double-entendre, can I? Well, and so would you, really, leading the life I lead, or having the kind of occupation I, completely voluntarily (and the more insanely for that reason alone), have engaged myself in.
Being in this very specialised environment, where all conversations are limited, almost exclusively, to the amount of body fat and muscle tissue, the pounds and kilos, the protein, carbs and fat combinations, reps and sets, peaks and plateus, where total strangers’ various body parts are bared in front of you daily and thrust at you shamelessly, forces you to develop a sneering attitude and a cynical sense of humour, as a form of protection and as a mean of keeping the remains of your respect towards the mankind intact.
And sometimes, as an act of defence, I would stop worrying about assorted limbs of my gym members and start taking care of my own ones for a change. It was my, er, behind yesterday whose’ turn has, finally, come to get its’ owner love, care and attention. As a result of aforementioned TLC (and loads of it), my bum got kited out with the pair of brand new “Dorothy Perkins” jeans, I was considering buying for quite a while now. The problem I’ve always had with jeans or trousers in general is that all the manufacturers seem to be living and creating in the blissful ignorance of the female anatomy. The only person they all are catering for is an anorexic teenager of prominently androgynous type with very undistinguished secondary sexual characteristics. Being “unfortunate” enough (note the commas!) to be blessed with quite different physique and body shape (and stubbornly proud of it, too) I would discount ANY thought of apologising for it, as ridiculous, and the notion of supporting this kind of clothing trend, as absurd and contemptuous.
Needless to describe then, how I felt yesterday afternoon, while walking out of the shop, swinging the black plastic bag with white “Dorothy Perkins” lettering on it, picturing my derriere, clad in blue denim, looking snug and perky in it. I will, probably, have half of the black male population of Enfield after me, if let out on the streets by myself, without my husband's chaperone (it happened before, believe you me!), but so what? It proves, doesn’t it, that I am a woman. AND an attractive one at that. I would drink to it any time of the day with any one, sharing my feelings and thoughts on the subject (within reason, mind, and nothing too strong, please, or you will end up carrying me home. And I am no light weight by ANY means). Without further ado then, if you care to join me: BOTTOMS UP!!!

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 28-03-2006 18:26
Spring haiku.
**************************************************
**

My spring is just this:
A single bamboo shoot,
A willow branch.

**************************************************
***

Drifting overhead,
Making shadows on the ground
The clouds swiftly fly.

**************************************************
****

Warm and cold winds flirt,
Announcing the start of the spring.

**************************************************
****
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 24-03-2006 16:47
Jazzing it up.
Get ready for this, Dirextor. As tonight we are going to be “IT” girls (well, who could argue with it--- hip location, fashionable venue), I decided to pull all the stops and tarted myself up with no mercy or consideration for others’ opinion, regarding my “get up”.
And if I know anything about London’s party scene, the preferred look for this kind of “socializing” should be “Boho in Soho”. I was aiming for “bohemian chick” cross “beautiful ethnic girl” impression, but might have overdone it a teensy-weensy bit, and my outfit gives out more “barn dance" vibe, than “jazzy urban” one. And to "top it up" AND to add an unmistakable London's flavour to this "vouge's faux pa", a pink jersey baker's boy cap is crowning my ginger curls today. Or shall we call it "crops"? More accurate description, considering the length and texture of my hair. And then the "baker's boy" cap would make even more sense, if you draw the chain of links(I live by accosiation, remember?)between "crops"-"yeild"-"flower"(NOT the one with the petals. White and finely grinded one)-"baker". But, anyway, who cares about something I’ve thrown together in a hurry? Actually, 45mins of careful selection from wardrobe, groaning under the strain of colourful rugs (lots of them are designers'), mostly worn once, and endless twirls in front of bedroom full-length mirror. On a Friday night, in a tightly packed space, crammed with people already warmed up by a pint or two, exited about the gig, I, hopefully, wouldn’t stand out too much, will be able to “aJAZZT” and blend in. It's the whole, the image, the result, that counts. Just like the cacophnyal mayhem of seemingly odd notes and stray passages in the jam session would eventually right itself and turn the chaos into order and harmony.

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 23-03-2006 12:05
Once in a blue mood...
"Planet Earth is blue
And there's nothing I could do"...

Never liked Mr. David Bowie, but this simple line epithomizes for me everything there is worth living for on this planet.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 21-03-2006 08:15
A joke a day....
My son last week end, putting his CV together, thinking out loud:”What shall I write about my nationality?” Then, after considerable amount of elapsed time, producing the following statement and demonstrating it to us with a totally straight face:
” I am a Russian born loyal British subject of the Greek origin.”
In my little private collection of his literary “pearls” this will be one of the all time favourites. The other witticisms I am secretly proud of include a remarkably accurate description of our next-door neighbor, Terry: ”Unaborted victim of the nuclea-triggered demographic explosion.”
And this double-entendre’ed (or even “treble”, if you wish) joke, he, I always suspected, liberally borrowed from somebody else’s stash of treasured one-liners:

Q: “What do you call a clairvoyant dwarf on the run from the police?”
A. “SMALL MEDIUM at LARGE.”

[Запись для всех] 16-03-2006 09:31
Cold shoulder?
No, not mine. For last night after the deltoid work out session it was definitely anything but.
Have to confess I was inclined at first to give it(the shoulder in question) to the whole idea of leaving the warm and cosy interior of the house and entering the blinding and deafening space, known as gym, filled with “rough and ready” characters, sporting thickly tattooed arms, baggy pants, bold heads with three skin folds above the bull-like necks, armed with water bottles, weight-lifting belts, sweat towels, huge gym hold-alls
( containing knee wraps and straps) and never shy of a rude joke or polite “have you finished with this one love? Ta, very much.”
Doesn’t sound, like some people’s idea of a perfect Wednesday evening, I know, but, boy, was I glad (eventually) to opt for it over the steaming mug of “Earl Grey” in front of the Agatha Christie’s “Poirott”.
And all this murder mysteries and detective series I keep watching must’ve sharpened my observational powers and fuelled the furnace of my imagination, for training I most certainly was, but let my mind (and eyes) wander round the gym and pick up a few tasty little morsels I called “Gym cookies and nuts”. Like, why, for instance all the fitness girls, however beautiful and body-perfect, posses most unpleasant, falsetto-sharp, piercingly squeaky, high-pitched voices?
Or why the skinniest guys always wear the loudest clothes and simply adore sleeveless tops two sizes too big? Isn't it a bit too cliche even for the "macho" of all the inferiority coplexes?
And what with black guys and jewellery? Surely, you don’t need all this bling-bling to increase your benching (not, that it was any good anyway) or make your squat outstanding. The only thing it could be good for (and I saw it with my very own eyes once) is getting caught in the clip of a cable cross-over machine. On the second thought, if you like looking ridiculous, it’s nobody else’s business, but your own, as long, as the rest of us could manage to get a few enjoyable moments out of it as well.
Or take the big pros. Admittedly it’s not the universal vice amongst them, but I know a few, who simply love showing as much flesh, as it’s humanly possible and the decency permits(NOT, if you ask my opinion) while “out and about” training. Excuse me, but does it enhance your ability to push and pull, this outfit of yours, consisting of tiny shorts and couple of rugs, held together by two strings and called “vest” on your all year round sun tanned body? And is it really fair, that I should be forced to avert my eyes every time you lie down under the bar to bench press or sit down for a bicep curls (with the legs wide apart, as men do. And “commando”-style, as some bodybuilders seem to prefer.)?
Oh, well, I could go on grumbling for Britain, bringing into the question the gym fatso'e, hogging cardio equipment for hour and ordering a take away from the nearest "McDonald's" straight after the "training", or four teenagers, using lateral pull-down machine for hours and having "eight sets left"... Each!!! Or...The list could go on forever, but, in truth, with all their faults, bizarre habits and eccentricity, I love my gym and our muscle heads and forgive them for their little follies and weaknesses.
After all, why give somebody a cold shoulder, if yours are pumped, achy and hot after,..erm.., “shouldering up” all this poundage and disposing of all your annoyance and irritation with it?

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 13-03-2006 15:29
Dave's weekly column. Part two.
Something’s missing around the chest. The stiffarm pullovers awakened the minor pectorals, and now the entire region craves direct engagement. Presses are out -- they’re scheduled for Monday, but cable-crossovers neatly fit my random Friday workout. And nobody’s using the pulley system. Yes!
One guy makes me feel like I’m not working hard enough, and here he comes now. He’s large, but not massive; he’s strong and ripped, but not on the stuff. He’s just a mean training machine who eats right and never misses a workout... or the last rep. He’s also a quarter of a century younger than me and about as secure. He wears a tank top.
Conforming to my favourite method of operation, I execute five sets of cable-crossovers. The reps range from 10 to 15, depending on fatigue, pace, weight and the goal I set as I proceed. I grasp the handles, centre myself and take a step forward, leaning into the resistance of the cables. I perform the exercise with straight-arm correctness and reach before me as if trying to touch the distant wall. Moderate weight accomplishes the deed, enabling control and specific muscle recruitment.
Intense and terse, Tanktop, the hard-working bodybuilder, walks swiftly and keeps his head down. I get the feeling he would like it if we all left the building till he was done. I refuse. Draper has not left the building. The loquacious one is doing one-arm dumbbell rows. I think he’s gonna burst.
Within the 10 to 15 reps, I vary the crossover action and, thus, the muscle-recruitment in three separate ways: I reach forward and high to hit the upper pec; I reach downward at a 45-degree angle to hit the mid-pec region; I reposition my body to allow me to reach straight down and engage the lowest portion of the chest muscles. I squeeze out the last reps.
Hastily, without a moment to lose, Tanktop lines up his dumbbells like cannonballs. He’s over the first dumbbell and tugging furiously, left, then right. It’s back in the rack. He’s over the second one, heavier, of course, and he’s grasping, gasping and bright red. Good reps. Not the kind that exemplify perfect lifting form, but good, like an ostrich crossing the finish line in The Annual Ostrich 100-Yard Dash. Two more sets. I’m transfixed. He’s gonna vaporise. Speed’s no longer the thing; it’s the straining. There’s no end to the straining.
I have chosen to superset the cable-crossover with a machine version of the rear-delt lateral raise -- picture a reverse cable-crossover, the resistance backward rather than forward. Tanktop is in my periphery vision and I must temper my action. Form over frenzy. Devotion above demolition. Perseverance instead of persecution. Still, I put the pedal to the metal, grinding my teeth, but not my gears. Swoooosh...

Everyone’s gone and I’m still here. What I lack in ferocious intensity I make up in time invested. You know what they say, "He who leaves last gets the most," or is it, "The last worm gets the early bird?" Maybe it's, "We’re closed, Bomber. Go home... Puleeeeeze."
See ya! Off to the sky where there’s no beginning and no end. God’s house...
Fly forever... DD


Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 10-03-2006 16:38
That's exercise for you, folks.
"Draper here… Can’t Get My Eyes Off Of You..." Part One.

The time I spend in the gym is devoted to getting the job done to the best
of my ability. That means determining the path I should travel, commencing
the workout without wasting time, warming up and getting up to speed
proficiently, seeking muscle overload within the majority of dedicated
sets, always assessing risk and injury, and maintaining form, focus and
pace. Nothing amazing, just forward motion.

This is how one builds muscle and might, assuming, of course, smart eating
and rest are concurrent. Within the tight parameters of this training
system, there is efficiency, discipline, attention, care, assurance,
patience and order. And none of these would fly without a clear goal in
mind, and a strong commitment to it. More essential requirements.

Being a mature musclebuilder, I can chew gum and lift weights at the same
time (I admittedly must be ever vigilant, however, lest I chip a tooth on
a five-pound plate). This heady advantage allows me to observe my
surroundings, the people and equipment hard at work (or not) to my left
and right. I observe and I wonder, neither of which is a mindless daydream
or a glazed gaze. They’re unusually stimulating acts of the mind and soul,
which no doubt raise one’s metabolism much the same as mild aerobics. I
wonder intensely.

I can’t help my curious nature and see no need to abort the harmless
practices. Observing is compatible with my training, and wondering offers
hunky material for my enthralling and insightful weekly newsletter. You’re
saying, "What enthralling newsletter?" But I... the very newsletter that
appears on your compu... you are, in fact, reading it as we... Ha! I know
your type. You’re jealous and insecure, petty and belligerent. Curses!
I’ll ignore you -- a severe punishment -- and get on with my training.

Big backs are built by widegrip bentover rows. I tighten my belt,
ventilate, focus, bend over and grasp the bar securely, precisely. I pull
hard, with form and locate the muscle I intend to develop. The reps pile
up like logs.

The guy in the baggy shorts tapping his forehead repeatedly against the
squat rack claims his training is boring and he needs a different workout.
"The same old thing over and over again," he groans to a trainer, "and I
don’t see any progress." Poor baby.

I slam another set, inspired by the feel of the iron and the advancing
pump in my entire back.

First of all, the guy hasn’t been coming to the gym regularly enough or
long enough -- six months -- to be bored or make gains. Humble thyself
before the iron, Bub. It’s not here to fill your life with excitement or
your baggy shorts with muscles. You lift the steel in its various shapes
and sizes again and again and you grow when it’s time to grow, and you bow
low in extraordinary gratitude; that’s how it works. (He probably doesn’t
receive my inspiring newsletter.)

I load more weight on the bar and dig deep down for density, mass and
shear enjoyment. Exhilarating!

Another thing, Baggy Pants, don’t groan. Not unless an Olympic bar with at
least three plates are on each side is lying stubbornly across your chest,
or a 75-pound dumbbell is lodged on your big toe after dropping from the
rack. Groaning, like complaining and worrying, is negative energy. It’s
exhausting and worthless. Replace worry, an act of retreating, with
wonder, an act of seeking. You think "Seek and ye shall find" is one of
those old precepts reserved for the elite? It is not, trust me.

I’m hot and breathing heavily. I’m on fire. Deadly serious, I approach the
bar. I prepare, position and pull the mute object with uncontained power.
Things happen. Sparks fly.

Exercises, sets and reps, again and again, are dull to the dull and
uninspiring to the uninspired. It’s not in the exercise or the set or the
rep; it’s in the heart of the doer, the lifter, the athlete. Hefting
weights may not be skydiving or tracking grizzly bear, but it is the
strong means to ends more rewarding -- health, muscle and might.

The last of five sets takes me to the edge. The bar is packed, my hands
are chalked and my belt is snug. The edge is the high place, the
precipice, from which bombers soar. The view is breath-taking.

I’m impressed with anyone making it to a purposeful gym these days. They
stepped out of the world where aspiration is not encouraged, achievement
is not properly rewarded, and turmoil flows like a river after a storm.
They’re trying and trying in itself is noteworthy.

Many shiny faces at gyms try for reasons less than solid and sincere:
profit, vanity, domination, attention, fear, companionship, distraction.
They bravely chose a rough and productive road of travel, but will they
endure? That is the question. Enduring is the test of the best. There’s a
very good chance -- cross your fingers -- they’ll be duly challenged and
disciplined, respond favorably to the demands and grow strong in many
responsible ways. A real gym does that to a person.

Bentover rows are demanding. I love them, but they knock me out. Stiffarm
pullovers give me the opportunity to lie down, stretch out and breathe
deeply. That doesn’t mean I won’t strain, burn and feel pain. Not even.
Leave it to me. I’ll start with 65 pounds and go up to 85 or 100,
depending on my elbows and wrists. Dopey me, 75 is probably plenty of
weight to do the trick -- effect the lats, serratus and tris -- and is
safer. I’m like a broken scale with my ego in the left hand and my brain
in the right hand. Ego, brain... Ego, brain...Ego, brain. Which will it
be? A no-brainer.

The gal doing the incline dumbbell presses has perfect form. She’s
consistent, methodical and precise; probably a secretary or administrator,
trim and doing fine. Convinced I’m not judging the young lady, I silently
agree with myself that five-pound dumbbells are not enough. She needs to
add resistance to her meticulous form. Feel that iron, move that steel,
make those muscles work, Missy. Doesn’t she get bored, drowsy even?

Pullovers are made for you and me: the rhythm, the breathing, the reaching
and straining. What relief! On the move, I grasp the 90-pounder on my
third set, assume a seated position on the end of a bench and will the
meticulous and dapper lady trainee to hoist some decent weight as well. I
drop back on the bench and heave the dumbbell overhead. The dormant weight
in the palms of my outstretched hands feels good -- a silent, cool,
neutral mass, solid and still. Energy about to happen.

I know. She’s afraid she’ll grow large and muscular. Tell that to the guy
in the baggy shorts. He’d kill to get large and muscular. I return the
dumbbell with a respectable thud. There’s no way anyone could return a
five-pound dumbbell with a respectable thud. I wanna tell her, but she’d
tell me to get lost. Certainly her boyfriend warned her about characters
like me, maniacs prowling gym floors in the middle of the day.

I stand before the hundred-pound dumbbell and pass an imaginary wand over
my body to evaluate its present capability. Like the gadget at airport
security, a warning beeper goes off and I grab an 85-pounder for some very
fluid reps. Hope she’s not looking and sees me surrender to the lighter
weight. What would her bozo boyfriend think? The lighter weight feels
remarkably good, controllable and painfree, more reps and better pump,
non-threatening and risk-free.

"Next week," I vow, "it’s the 110." And, next week, I tell Lucy
Lightweights the benefits of pushing the iron.
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 06-03-2006 15:08
Jon McEnroe----style conversation with a client.

This kind of things make me wonder sometimes WHY I ever bother and how long till I pass the point of no return and stop even caring?

C: I just can’t stop eating chocolate. I’m so depressed. I’ll never lose weight, because once I start eating it, I literally don’t stop having bar after bar until I feel sick. Then I vow to never touch it again, but the next day---off I go again.
What shall I do?

Me: How many have you already had today?

C: None. It’s only 10 0’clock in the morning.

Me: So you CAN stop eating chocolate. All you have to do is find a way to stop eating it long enough to get slim.

C: Hah! If only it was THAT easy.

Me: It is. You simply decide, that you don’t eat chocolate any more. If that is the food that is screwing up your shape, your health, your self-esteem AND keeping you fat and miserable, then it isn’t doing you any favours. If chocolate produced a life-threatening reaction in your body, you wouldn’t think twice about avoiding it.

C: But it doesn’t. AND I would feel deprived, if I couldn’t have my afternoon Twix---or two…Or three.

Me: Well, fine, the…Stay fat. You’re, probably, right, anyway---it would be very boring, if everybody looked the same. Enjoy your chocolate and get used to the idea of being fat.

C: But I hate being fat. Isn’t there a middle way? Some kind of compromise? Couldn’t I just have chocolate once a day, as a treat?

Me: You just said, that once you start eating chocolate, you can’t stop. Elimination is always better than moderation, if there is something you can’t control. Someone giving up smoking doesn’t allow herself one cigarette a day, as a treat. If you quit—you Q-U-I-T.

C: Are you saying I can never have chocolate again---E-V-E-R---for the rest of my life?

Me: No. I am suggesting, that you choose not to eat any chocolate TODAY. You could only live one day at a time. When tomorrow comes, you will decide what you are going to do then, whether to have another choc-free day or go back to eating it. It’s your choice. There is a lot of other food you can eat and not get fat.

C: You are being hard.

Me: Not at all. You have to get your priorities straight. Either you eat chocolate and stay fat; OR stop eating it and get slim. You can’t do both. You’ve tried---it doesn’t work.

C: You know what? You are a nasty cow!


All that was missing to make the likeness complete---a tennis racket, flung at me; a high heel, driven into the carpet, accompanied by the words, made legendary by the greatest tennis spoilt brat: ”You’ve GOT to be kidding!!! You can NOT be serious!!!”

Sorry, ‘fraid I am.


Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 02-03-2006 11:07
Life gets sweeter every day?
No, it does NOT.

Banish the myth and the brainwashing:
1. You “need” refined sugar for energy (NO, you bloody don’t).

2. You will feel “deprived”, if you stop eating it (only for a period of 48 to 72 hours. And ANYBODY could cope with that).

3. It will set up a “craving”, if you “deny” yourself sugar (unless you are pregnant, don’t even start on the “craving” thing with me).

If you BELIEVE these things, they will happen. Follow Phoebe’s (from “Friends”) path and change your beliefs. Exercise a sense of power and control.
The ONLY person you can control is yourself. You can’t change the world and you can’t control the people around you, but you CAN control the way you respond to the world and everyone in it.
“Oh, I get SOOOOO frustrated, when my mother-in-law (“husband”, “boy friend”, “skinny female friend”—delete, as appropriate) is around. She always makes me wanna eat”. No, she doesn’t. Decide not to hand over your control –power to anyone else and stick to your guns.
Program your mind, that giving up sugar is free choice. Don’t give in to the brainwashing—that if not allowed a certain food, you will just crave it. You won’t. And it will do the trick only, if you banish it from your daily food intake (hate the word "diet"!”!) once and for all. It is much easier not to have ANY, than to limit it. Having one bar of chocolate a day is just as bad as eating it all the time. This will ensure you are still addicted to sugar, both in your body and in your mind. And if my hunch is right (and they usually are), and you never had a willpower to stick to the previous diets you’ve tried, then you are certainly not good enough to try and control a sugar craving putting yourself on the “A-Mars-a-day” eating plan.
Get the myth of “just one bite" out of your mind. There is NO such thing, as “just a little taste”. If you like the taste, you would want more. And if you don’t like the taste, you wouldn’t have wanted it in the first place.
Get one thing straight: a taste for sugar is an addiction, that will last a lifetime, unless you break it.

The sneaky parting shot, aimed at all of my sweet toothed friends out there:

“NOBODY eats just ONE peanut. Don’t start.”


Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 01-03-2006 17:37
Best "OUT-OF-THE-OFFICE" replies.
1. I am currently out at a job interview and will reply to you, if I
fail to get the position. Be prepared for my mood.

2. You are receiving this automatic notification because I am out of the office.
If I was in, chances are you wouldn't have received anything at all.

3. I will be unable to delete all the unread, worthless emails you send me until I return from holiday on 4 April. Please be patient and your mail _ will be deleted in the order it was received.

4. Thank you for your email. Your credit card has been charged 5.99 for the first ten words and 1.99 for each additional word in your message.

5. The e-mail server is unable to verify your server connection and is unable to deliver this message. Please restart your computer and try sending again. (The beauty of this is that when you return, you can see how many in- *duh*-viduals did this over and over).

6. Thank you for your! message, which has been added to a queuing system. You are currently in 352nd place, and can expect to receive a reply in approximately 19 weeks.

7. I've run away to join a different circus.

8. I will be out of the office for the next 2 weeks for medical
reasons. When I return, please refer to me as " Margaret" instead of "Steve".
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 28-02-2006 18:11
Midas touch.
George Michael has got a remarkable ability: any situation, however bad or sticky, he could turns to his advantage. “Stinky” would be a more suitable word, bearing in mind his LA toilet adventure. Nobody else, I recon, could’ve come out of it, holding their head high and smelling of violets .Sorry, Georgy, but the way the media was going on about you then, didn’t leave much chance to your pooh-poohed (literary) career. And guessed what? “Take me outside” not just redeemed the ex-“Whamee”, but made a new gay- and pop- icon out of the former teen- heart-throb. "Taking the p***ss", were we, Mr. George?
Same now. After being caught completely zonked out of his mind, stoned on the class “C” drug and slammed behind the steering wheel of his car, and making ALL the newspaper head lines (it must’ve been REALLY slow week for the press, then).
And what do you think was blasting out of the loud speakers in every shop in the Canary Wharf‘s Shopping Mall today?
“SUPER GRASS”. You can't help, but applaud the guy's style. Very "tongue in cheek" and laughing all the way to the bank...
The "golden touch", indeed.

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 24-02-2006 12:44
Oopsy Daisy.
Saw a girl on the Tube today. Young girl, mind. About eighteen. And wearing 80s skirt. NOT a trendy version of the clothing item from the “time the fashion has forgotten”. But the one, most probably, acquired from a car boot sale stall, or an “Oxfam” charity shop.
Elasticated waist, man-made fabric, calf-length volumonous flowery creation would’ve been far more suitable on a country lady, hosting a “bring–and-buy” WI coffee morning.
Most "eye POPPY-ying" thing about this couture “faux pa” was its’ pattern of flowers: poppies, peonies, daises, thinly interspersed with leaves and blades of grass. All arranged by size: big and shaggy flowers closer to the hem, gradually getting smaller midway up the skirt and turning into mere specks of colour towards the waistline. All producing most “busy” and “don’t look at me or you’ll get dizzy” effect.
There was, however, one good thing in this “vogue disaster”, or so I thought (and don’t ask me to find more, than one. NOBODY could’ve done that, even the staunchest 80s enthusiast). If I were a man and was trying to get a date (read "get laid" on a hopeless Monday night, THIS would've been my pick-up line:” You know, in this skirt you look JUST like a meadow. Could I come and roll on you sometimes?”

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 22-02-2006 09:06
Nonsense a la Dali. Or "DALIcious absurd"
It was snowing in Canary Wharf yesterday. Never at Christmas, but NOW, at the end of February. When winter is nearly over. A day too late and a buck too short, I would say. But this is English weather for you, folks.
Nevertheless, looking at this unexpected snowstorm from my vantage point, on the 21st floor of the Tower I, for some reason, did not think of the unpredictability and capriciousness of the Old Blitey’s climate. Far from resulting in my moaning about “bloody typical” and concentrating on the “still, one mustn’t grumble”, this wintry storm brought on images of Salvador Dali, Genesis and terracotta pots.
Nothing strange, I expect, in the association with the “Great Mustached One”, or his Art; as the long vertical panes of snow, slowly shifting, interlocking, chasing one another, drifting, like grayish-white ghosts in between modern glass-and-concrete sky scrapers, appear totally surreal. I stood next to the tall window (two of my heights), looked down at the “braun movement” of the snow flakes and thought, that this is must be, how God felt after deciding to sort out the Chaos and to create the Order.
And, after all, is there much difference between the immortal Hand of God and hand of a mortal? Both have created , moved and guided by the Divine inspiration and both experienced Heavenly satisfaction. (One might certainly hope so, anyway, after all the trouble this two have been through: one with Eve, and the other one with Gala.) I am 99 percent sure, that THIS will be the case with monsignor Dali, but I might reconsider, if I were in Bearded One’s sandals. Where the old pottery jugs are coming into all this, you might ask. Well, as it follows from the saying, it’s not REALLY God’s job to make the clay pots. But maybe (just maybe), the world would’ve been a far better place, if HE did just that, eh?

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 17-02-2006 09:30
A Friday dose of "Rubaiyata".
49

'Tis all a Chequer-board of Nights and Days
Where Destiny with Men for Pieces plays:
Hither and thither moves, and mates, and slays,
And one by one back in the Closet lays.

50

The Ball no Question makes of Ayes and Noes,
But Right or Left, as strikes the Player goes;
And He that toss'd Thee down into the Field,
*He* knows about it all---He knows---HE knows!

51

The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.

52

And that inverted Bowl we call The Sky,
Whereunder crawling coop't we live and die,
Lift not thy hands to *It* for help---for It
Rolls impotently on as Thou or I.

*****


Even this merry drinker believed, that all this is just a game, where the pack of cards (or bunch of chess pieces) is in the Destiny's hand, where we are not dealt fair hand and stand no chance of getting anything out of the whole thing. Is it the biggest con ever?


By the way Omar's full name is Omar Ghiyath al-Din Abu'l-Fath Umar ibn Ibrahim Al- Nisaburi al-Khayyam.





Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 16-02-2006 10:49
Identity crisis?
Youth and physical health are precious commodities very often taken for granted and not appreciated till they’ve gone. And for me, being the happy owner of the former and not questioning, that possessing the latter is already somewhat opened to argument, the matter of mental health, or, rather, peace of mind, was never part of the equation. Again, you tend not to value something you haven’t even realised you’ve got until it’s lost. Ever since both of my men left me (one—for a week in St. Petersburg and the other—for a month in Switzerland), I’ve been feeling uneasy, out of place and out of my depth. And even though my husband is back, and has been for nearly a week now, his presence somehow failed to fill this big empty void inside me, this almost tangible vacuum in my “hollow tin chest” (Yeah, where would I be without Chandler and his jokes!)
It’s not an unpleasant sensation altogether, this suddenly developed “lost at sea” feeling. But sometimes it causes confusion and cerate awkward, sticky situations. At the last client’s meeting, for instance, I found myself losing the track of thoughts, falling silent mid-sentence, without a slightest idea of what I was saying, with three pairs of eyes on me and two of my own staring blankly at the page with rows and columns of figures and numbers. Try to get yourself out of this one! Well, I did, and wouldn’t like to have a repeat of the experience.
Don’t get me wrong, I am not walking around in a daze all day long, searching high and low for my former happy self. But if comparisons were to be drawn, then I would be one of the creatures from the famous Goghen painting entitled “Where we’re from? Who are we? Where we’re going?” These questions started popping unbidden into my head after following the instructions from my “new best friend” and guru Richard Carlson and learning and implementing his technique of “freeing your mind, dismissing your thoughts and discovering inner contentment.” And, as all the rubbish, by-side products of thinking process are confided now to the sad non-existence outside my brain (and anybody, who’s interested, is welcome to it, by the way); it makes it entirely possible, that only worthwhile and really important thoughts and ideas should be knocking about in that pretty little head of mine, producing from time to time fireworks of enlightenment with sparks of geniality.
I am quite happy to accept the fact, that our past becomes only a figment of our imagination, once we’re transferred from “tomorrow” into “today”. And so is our future, regardless of the degree of it’s remoteness—an hour or 10 years from now. The only moment, that is real, is RIGHT NOW.
How did it happen, then, that I’ve nothing to fill this very real present moment with? Don’t want to go too much into the details right now, but how could it happen, that I arrived at this moment of time with nothing to show for the journey? Shall I put up with this phase for a bit, treating it with “oh, it’ll blow over” attitude; shall I dismiss it completely, write it off, as one of those “too much ado about nothing” occurrences of every day life? Am I hormonal? Overreacting? Too self-absorbed? Low on vitamins? Menopausal (Heavens forbid!)???
Is it simply a “storm in the tea cup” or (with a shudder) am I approaching a middle-life crisis? (And shouldn’t it be spelt “CRYsis”, by the way, ‘cos it fits my present mood perfectly?) Well, only time will tell, I guess. And I will cross this bridge, when I come to it.
As for my present dilemma, the hope, that “THIS too shall pass” must be good enough, as a solace and a guideline.

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 14-02-2006 16:06
My RAW Valentine.
Nice little poem, called "Veggie Valentine", found in the jungle of the Internet and making a nice change from all the sickly-sweet stuff one keep bumping into on the 14th of February ever year:sugary pink cute fluffy kittens in the shop windows; white cute teddy bears, holding large red velvet hearts, sitting on the petrol stations' shelves; Valentine cards with plump smiling Cupids, wearing nappies and holding bows with pointed arrows...
This is the least I could do to keep some kind of sanity amongst the electrified atmosphere of "love is in the air" around me.


You may not “carrot” all for me
The way I care for you.
You may “turnip” your nose,
When I plead with you.
But if your heart should “beet” with mine,
Forever “lettuce” hope,
There is no reason in the world,
Why we two “cantaloupe”.


Easy enough, isn’t it, to fall under the spell of rhyme “love-dove”, to join the chorus of endless “roses are red, violets are blue, be my Valentine and I’ll always love you,” to buy a box of heart-shaped chocolates and supermarket’s best flower arrangement (sweetheart roses and baby breath)? Easy enough to do it just once a year and consider your love proven? Not for me, thank you very much. It ain’t the proof of love or indication of devotion. Live with somebody for number of years, stick with them through thick and thin; be with them for “better for worse”, through "sickness and health", "for richer for poore"; care for them with all your heart’s might, till “death us do part”. Sounds corny, I know, all this “happily ever after” garbage and, given the amount of cynicism and horror of sentimentality I’ve accumulated throughout the years, it’s, very emphatically, NOT something I would ever consider myself writing.
But on the day, like this, one can’t help, but revisit the past and dig out a few fossilized remains of what at closer inspection turns out to be happy memories from one’s love history: a smile here, a flower there, an odd romantic letter elsewhere.
And shaking the dust off those relics of the bygone times, and sorting them out and organizing in “ascending order” made me smile at naivety of some of my then hopes and marvel at the madness of "once there" passion and longevity of "still here" feelings. Made me realize, that whatever might happen, whichever way the wind could turn, despite "all the little things", which sometimes are the really big ones, the ones, that REALLY matter,---I will always have all THIS and nobody would ever take it away from me. Even myself.






Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 10-02-2006 13:26
Dave's Friday "EARTHSHAKING DISCOVERY".
How DOES he know, what I need at the moment? Could it be possible, that I have found my web soul mate? My long lost twin brother from a different mother? Either this, or he IS a psychic, for his words ring true every time and I could relate to every single one of them.


"Life is not perfect.

Ever get a slump in your pump or suffer depressing bench pressing? Are you
slipping in your dipping? Is your chinning less than winning and do you
hurl when you curl? When you squat, would you rather not; that is to say,
your squattin' is rotten? Is your deadlift adrift? Your bentover row, has
it lost its flow?

Remarkably, when these things happen in the gym, their equivalent happens
on the street, at the job and in the home. The gym is a barometer of our
life, a measuring device, a gauge. Things are good at the gym, things are
good everywhere. Order in sets and reps, a tight pump, fine form, heavy
weights, abundant energy, sharp focus, training finesse and enthusiasm
correspond with high spirits, a robust attitude, clear thinking and smart
decisions beyond the gym walls.

Low barometric readings and life is a bummer. High digits and life is a
dream. Simple. But I don’t know which came first. In other words, do bad
workouts beget bad days or do bad days beget bad workouts? Which is
responsible for which? Some afternoons you can catch me sitting in a
corner staring at the wall in search of the answer. Such answers unlock
the secrets of the universe and solve problems like where do we come from
and what are we doing here... how do we build mondo arms.

Life outside the gym more or less happens. Oops, here comes a Greyhound
bus heading my way in the fast lane. We have limited control, we exert our
influence, we express our preferences, we try hard, but there are too many
variables and life takes over. I mostly sit and wait for things to occur,
random forces pushing and pulling as I lean to and fro. But in the gym, a
contained universe, we have our hands directly on the immediate tasks,
duties and deeds, and the implements and forces that affect them: squats,
supersetting, barbells. That’s not exactly control, but it is
straightforward exertion. I can start when I please, select the bar,
choose the weight, determine the exercise, affect the groove, arrange the
pace, decide the intensity and stop anytime I want or need.

Always seeking control, I take this awareness and ability and apply my
personal training formula: Maximum exertion per set multiplied by total
sets and reps performed per exercise plus time on the gym floor equals
maximum goal achievable minus injury, disappointment or loss of blood.

I’m out of control when trying to make things happen that cannot. It’s
good to be positive -- I can if I think I can and all that stuff -- but
the dogface of reality must be recognized sooner or later. Bad days in the
gym visit us when we insist on lifting more than we can lift and exceeding
our limits: too many exercises, sets and reps.

If reps are missed or the weights are too heavy or our groove resembles
the cart missing a wheel on a dilapidated rollercoaster, the gauges pop
their springs. Lost control -- bad day at the gym. Oops! Shoulda used
lighter weights and sought fewer reps, which would have assured righteous
form and delivered a satisfying workout.

Control is the key. Take control.

Top Secret: There is more than one key, Bomb Squad, like maturity,
commitment, purpose, consistency, knowledge and understanding, confidence,
determination, persistence, commonsense, intuition, Bomber Blend, courage,
desire, hope, Super Spectrim vitamins, encouragement...

Now to define control as it applies to the mastery of our workouts. It is
the aptitude to determine our daily training capability and wisely
regulate and apply it to serve our needs and reach our objectives.

I should be able to juggle those balls after all the years I’ve spent
doodling in a gym. I know my parameters: do the best I can to develop and
reserve muscle and might with what resources I have at this stage of my
life (just made that up). Within a set or two of any particular exercise I
can determine my blasting power for the day -- firecrackers and sparklers,
snap crackle pop.

Taking control: This is where the rational mind comes into play. (Good
luck.) A bad day is registered only if a crappy barometric reading -- a
less than terrific workout -- is not accepted. It must be accepted cuz
it’s real -- it is what it is. If it is not accepted, the lousy workout
exits the gym with you, a miserable companion, and you have a bad day in
life as well. This is often worse for others than it is for you. You are
on the verge of being a jerk.

Read meter, move on. Accept, go and grow.

Accepting low readings is not submitting to defeat. Where absolute weight
training is concerned there is no defeat. There is just another hard
workout, another tough day, another plodding step in the march toward
inevitable achievement. Any number of causative effects contributes to
less-than-superior workouts on any given day: overtraining, low fuel, too
little sleep, general fatigue, nagging pain, injury, malaise, apathy,
distractions, stress, haste, weather and people. These are real and need
reckoning.

Note: I refuse to explain or rationalize, excuse or apologize for any
contradictions you detect in my random postulations.

Back to the chicken and the egg. So, which came first, the bad day or the
bad workout? Some will swear it’s the bad day that follows them into the
gym. I disagree. A bad day can be leveraged to affect a superior workout.
Like a spark to petrol, loathsome daily experiences ignite and burst into
flames. Stress from almost any source is like fuel for the exercise
engine. Iron moves, muscles grow. Tempers are smoothed; headaches are
mitigated; aches in muscles and joints disperse; depression vanishes;
distractions take flight and broken hearts mend. You can count on it. The
workout swallows them up and spits them out.

Real training doth fix what’s broken, heal what’s ailing, and soothe
what’s aching.

Do you realize with an authentic gym in every neighborhood, western
medicine would go belly up, hospitals would vacate and doctors would once
again make house calls? Health insurance conglomerates would go broke,
small business owners would have a chance at making a living and the world
economies would soar like eagles. Grandparents would live in their own
homes for a long, long time, without crutches to hold them up or their
kids to hold them down. And their grandchildren would amount to something
worthwhile. Less crime, less violence, fewer wiseguys... if only everybody
worked out, ate right and wasn’t so selfish.

Self-centered training develops selfless souls. Basic Bomber Precept.

Expect too much from your training and you’re expecting too much from
yourself. Those high standards we set -- or someone sets for us -- are as
good as the target on a dartboard. Aim carefully. Just don’t hang the darn
thing on your backside. Hitting the bull’s eye can be very painful. Rookie
Bombers.

Lofty goals cause disappointment and apprehension for ordinary, less
driven and immature seekers, and they eventually dread their workouts.
Anticipation is exhausting. They quit before they achieve. Bomber Wannabes
(Bummers).

Seeking serious goals excites motivated muscle and strength builders.
Pushing to the edge works best for this rare breed. Bombers.

People with realistic fitness goals have the best chance of survival. They
strive in stride with healthy pride. The Bomb Squad.

Well I’ll be. That sliver down below looks like the ole' airstrip. My
gauges haven’t properly functioned for ages and I depend mostly on
guesswork, instincts, commonsense, luck and a prayer to find my way around
the skies. Now to guide this thing in the general direction of the runway
and hope for the best.

Putt... sputter...putt... The Captain
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 07-02-2006 09:31
Damsel in distress.
What are little girls made of?
Sugar and spice,
And everything nice,
That's what little girls are made of.


Can’t say I feel in any way inclined to be addressed, as “sugar” or “honey” . Even simple innocent “darling”, for that matter, doesn’t seem entirely appropriate for somebody filled with an explosive mixture of bile, mustard and vinegar, as much, as I am at the moment. Nothing appears to be wrong on the grand scale---no accidents, no major or pressing dilemmas, requiring my immediate and undivided attention. Even one of my main customary and, therefore slightly boring, worries---the bank balance—is more or less in order. For now.
The reason for my upset is, that after a short period of relative stability at work (enough staff, all shifts are covered, people know, what they are doing, I am not jerked around and made responsible for whatever mess we found ourselves in, etc)---we are back to where we were about 3-4 months ago--- mark “zero”, characterized by chaos, disorganization and double shifts for me, as of today and, hopefully, NOT till eternity.
There is (there MUST be) a reasonable explanation to all this. And I, actually, have one handy. Good old tried and tested classic of “Shit happens”. But (and it’s only for a fracture of a second, mind), popping out from behind unpenetratable veneer of my inner poise and philosophical self composure, could I, please, scream at the top of my lungs : ”WHY does shit always happen to ME?”

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 03-02-2006 18:27
"My blue, suede shoes"...
Not blue, actually. Not suede. NOT even “shoes”. Pink canvas plimsoles from “Converse”. Bought yesterday on the “JJB” sale. Half price. Twenty pounds instead of forty.
And though my “substance abuse" days belong, very sadly, to the memories of the time gone by(and it was SHOE SHOPPING, not crack, or heroine, or marihuana); like a reformed drug addict I sometimes can’t help, but relapse, and get a tiny little“fix” of what once used to be one of my less innocent and most expensive addictions. And though Manolos are no longer the cause for the “plastic surgery” (or would it be “therapy”?) and I could easily restrain myself from flexing my credit card muscles, glimpsing their heavenly form through the shop window, I miss all that sometimes: the sudden rush of the blood to the cheeks, the excitement, the desire to posess, the lightheadedness, the decision making("Oh, the Hell with the credit card overhead!"; the graceful curve of the instep, the height of the hill, the smell of leather, the little darlings inside their silky paper nests snuggling cosily in the stylish shoe box…
If you’ve ever given up cigarettes, and at some point were reduces to, while walking on the street, follow the trail of smoke, left by somebody, puffing on the fag, right ahead of you, you could relate to my feelings and emotions.
My new pink pumps, lovely as they are, didn’t give me any sense of pride or power. They wouldn’t represent a shoe fetish, or a “penis substitute” (Not me. Diane Keaton). But they didn’t brake my bank balance either. And amongst all the hard, boring, mind numbing tasks and errands I was up to my ears every day of this week, with their bright pastel shade and funky, trendy design, at the times, they made me want to do a little “Elvis- the- Pelvis” wiggle and feel, like “Hunka-Hunka burning love”. And all for one hundredth (two hundreths, three hundreths) of the cheapest, last season’s, “Jimmy Choos”.

Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 01-02-2006 09:20
A hop to the top.
Everybody knows Empire State Building in New York. And, perhaps, half of those, who “know”, have heard of the “Empire State Building Race”—a competition, where participants run from the bottom to the very top of the America’s famous landmark.
Having nothing of the sort in London (not the buildings, obviously, but the same kind of a challenge) and getting my patriotic feelings deeply and justifiably hurt in view of such a turn of the events, it was only fair, that last night two brave, albeit slightly unfit, girls took the matter in their own hands (or, rather, got their legs over it); and now you could consider the Canary Wharf Tower Race properly and officially established. It started on the ground floor and ended on the landing, marked “floor 21” of the Docklands’ tallest skyscraper. Oh, and two courageous ladies were none the others, than couple of “Harbors” most notorious VIPs—--highly esteemed Ms. DireXtor was one of them. And, as natural modesty prevents the second “athlete” from giving herself “airs and graces”, she will remain anonymous.
Being brutally honest with you, it would’ve been quite an exaggeration on my part, to call it a Race. Or even a run. Or, by the same token, a jog. It was, if I felt poetically inclined, what might’ve been described, as “staggering, struggling, groaning and creaking along”.
Or you will get a better idea of the essence of our unorthodox cardio session, if I simply let you in on a little secret---this is how I’ve always envisioned Hell. High, empty, narrow, echoing well of the staircase; white walls; hot, still air and not a soul in sight. Only the sound of our steps, turning gradually into something bearing very close resemblance to shuffling. And our hard breathing---more of a panting or gasping, really. And I could’ve sworn, everyone, still remaining in the offices behind the red fire escape doors, could hear the mad hammering of our hearts.
We did it in sets---three lots with seven floors in each. No holding on to the rails!!! THAT will be cheating. Short stretches and a few gulps of water in between. Took about 12 minutes, the whole thing. Not too bad for the first time, eh?
The plan is to continue doing it twice a week in the same fashion exactly, till the end of February. Then we’ll move on to the next step (not just one, but totaling to the exact amount of 546. And, YES, before you've asked, I did count them)…
I haven’t quite decided yet, which one it is going to be---same number of sets with the increased speed; OR same pace and non-stop steady climb. I still have to see, what our progress will be like; and, being me, I simply can’t help it, but get a kick out of the the state of suspense, my training partner (or is it a victim?) will find herself in.
To my surprise and delight, the “THIGHlight” of yesterday’s race is the pain and ache in my tie-ins---the place right under your old gluteas muscles (your ass, in plain English), where they are connected with the hamstrings. Just like after the good squatting-lunging session.
And so happy with this I am, in fact, that tonight the "robotic one" is doing it AGAIN. On her own. That’s right, folks, no alpenstock or even a spiky boot in my gym bag, but “Climb every mountain” and “Edelweiss” will be my signature tunes from now on.

A truly “STEEPulating” and “STAIRmulating” “CLIMBax “ of the day!

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[Запись для всех] 30-01-2006 16:36
"Stop thinking, start living".
Quoting from the book with the same title (see above) by Richard Carlson., found on the train three weeks before Christmas. No, I am not a self-help book addict. Never buy them, never read them. But, as the saying states, “Never say “never”, it must’ve been a ripe time for me to come across one and even (EVEN!) start reading it.
Moreover, that right now I don’t feel being in the place in my life, where I want to be. It might be simply “winter blues”, this feeling of faint dissatisfaction with pretty much everything around me: my family, my love life, my job, even (oh, sacred of the most sacred) myself. I seem to be unable to achieve the state of happy equilibrium, where all the thoughts and feelings are homeostasically balanced, so to speak. Instead, it’s been an emotional roller-coaster, plunging me into the abyss of the near- depression one minute, flying up to the peaks of unsubstantiated and un-prolonged euphoria the next. Deep down I keep hoping that it might be just “a silly phase I’m going through”. But it might be a need for a change, a call from within my soul for …Yes, for what, exactly? I don’t know it yet, and it could simply pass, or it could , sooner or later, got through this “chrysalis” stage and present itself to me, as a freshly hatched, still slightly wet, new, shiny and beautiful butterfly of my “itch” solution. In the meanwhile I will use all the help I could get my hands upon. This book included. There is a lot of sense in what the author is saying. And it came to me at the right moment in time. Looks, like somebody, somewhere, is trying to tell me something, is it not?


“…At the core centre of your being is something you were born with, your “ healthy psychological functioning”. HF(I will call it) is not learned, it’s inherent, it’s your birthright, and it’s always present, when you are not engaged in your thinking mind or your “personality”. Your HF is innate, it’s your most natural state of mind. It’s not, who you think you are(your ego), it’s your higher self, who you really are and who you can be. Your HF is, where your wisdom lies, it is your peace of mind, your common sense, your satisfaction in life, and your feeling of wholeness.

Your HF is the part of you, that sees beyond unhappiness; it’s your source of emotional buoyancy, the part of you, that isn’t disturbed, when the circumstances in your life are less than perfect.


No one is born sceptical or negative. Self-doubts, self-criticism, negativity and pessimism are the result of negative thoughts, that we learned to take seriously. Our self-image and personality are a compilation of thoughts that we have about ourselves, and some of them might be negative. If you and never learned to take seriously negative thoughts about yourself, you wouldn’t experience the feelings, that go along with them today. You are the sole creator of all your negative thoughts. Your thoughts have no power to harm you other, than the power you give them.
The more you believe your own thinking, the more obscured your HF becomes. Poor self-esteem is HF, that has been obscured with self-doubting thoughts you’ve learned to take seriously. And if you could do that, then you could also learn to disregard and dismiss the negative thoughts, that run through your mind. And, as you do, your HF will return very quickly. As the thoughts are dismissed, a more elevated feeling will return.
Our HF is an invisible, but knowable force within us. It’s not something we can touch or prove, but it does indeed exist, and we simply have to desire to access it. To do that one have to think back to the last time they woke up on the “right side of the bed” and felt sense of gratitude about the life---the last time they said to themselves, “Life seems magical”. Even eternal pessimists have moments, when the magic of life inspires them.
Like intuition, HF is an invisible force within you, that you could learn to call upon. It the feeling, that you could learn to live with. You just have to know that it’s there for you and to want it to appear---and it will..."

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[Запись для всех] 27-01-2006 18:59
Show me the money!!!
Of course, it applies to you only if your name is Jerry McGuire or, if you are his alter-ego--Tom Cruise, who, at the moment, is out of bounds and completely unattainable, both matrimonially and financially, after getting hitched to the cutie Katie from “Jonathan’s Creek”(the one with the weirdly lopsided grin).
And, unlike a secret stash of “Kit-Kat” chocolate bars in the goodie draw of a dieting lady, this howl is reserved for the lean times, for the emergencies only, for the proverbial “rainy day”, when I don’t even want to look at the statements from my bank and am force to decide, which one of our houshold bills is NOT going to be paid this month.
Today though, I didn’t need imaginary benefactor or did not feel waves of frustration washing over me, after nipping downstairs to the cash machine to check my bank balance. I am in the black. It’s the pay day. Speaking metaphorically, it’s the day of gathering the crops after a month of hard work tending to my field.
Well, it might’ve been better, this yield I was so anxious for my plantation to produce. But as long, as I gonnna reap something after I saw it, as long as it will keep myself and my family sustained (at least for the next two weeks, ha-ha), I will be content. Otherwise, there is always Jerry McGuire.

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[Запись для всех] 26-01-2006 14:36
ESPRESSo yourself!!!
Steaming cup of coffee in hand, surfing the Net. This is what I do every day at work, given a slightest possibility. No, not the site-hopping, though it does have its' place in my working schedule(I am not perfect, but don' throw the stone. Look in the nearest mirror or a shop window first).
I am “ESPRESS”- ing myself . This is on of the preferred positions, conditions or situations to find myself in: inhaling aroma of the caffeine-rich “tonic” and getting lost in the cob-webs of the virtual space. And speaking of “preferred”---this is exactly what it is---just the choice. Choice of the moment, NOT an addiction. I , fortunately, could claim not being “blessed” with dependant kind of personality. There are things but a few, which you might say I am hooked on. And if you think you know me too well to point your finger and exclaim “Training!!!” I would beg to differ. In my mind it’s more of a love/hatred cum necessity relationship, than anything else. About the “hatred” bit—only, when I am dead beat, completely pooped, totally “wasted”, “zonked” or knakered, will you hear me cursing and verbally abusing what, in all the other times, is my ultimate pleasure and ” highlight of the day” activity. Other reasons why I simply HAVE to exercise include, first, not such great genetics, passed on to “yours truly” by my parents and, therefore, a very urgent need to carry on correcting Nature’s mistakes; and, second, as vulgar, as it might sound---to keep myself employed. For, if I ever stop working out, who would want to see a middle-aged, flabby, cellulite-ridden “gym lady” hogging this position for no apparent reason, rather, than “experience” , when there are so many young, perky, lucky-happy-going creatures, "knocking at my door" and “nipping at my heels”; and, who, my bosses would quite rightly feel, are more entitled to my job(and money) by the sheer combination of youth, looks and enthusiasm? Ugly grimace of reality, true, but it acts, as a constant reminder, as Senjor Karlos’ “death at the left shoulder”, as a threat AND (as funny, as it sounds)a catalist, a Salvation and a Saviour. Pumping and lifting aside, other things I could take or leave. Coffee included. The attraction is not even in the taste. It’s the smell I like. One of the three most homely smells in the world for me are the smell of freshly baked bread, vanilla and coffee. In this exact order.
My grandma’s house, the batch of home-made loaves are taken out of the Russian stove at five o’clock in the morning. I am in bed, half awake, watching my gran-- face and arms pinkly lit up by the dancing fire—moving back in fro in the tiny kitchen, big wooden shovel diving into the open crimson mouth of the stove and coming back with the golden domes of the softest, plumpest, fluffiest bread, I’ve ever tasted. And the aroma, the heavenly smell, penetrating all the corners of the big, old village house, feeling of belonging, happiness and safety. “Everything will be fine, till there is my grandmother, this house, the stove and the smell of freshly baked bread”-I used to think, whilw drfting back to sleep. Happy childhood memories. If only I knew…

Vanilla is the next one on my list. In my mind it linked irrevocably with birthdays. And the feeling of elation, lightness, almost weightlessness (not good for a lifter, eh?) sometimes envelopes me for, seemingly, no particular reason, BEFORE my nose start distinguishing the hint of vanilla presence in the air, but well AFTER my brain already registered it and returned me to my parents home, into our cosy kitchen, where my mum, wearing flowery apron, is putting last touches to my birthday cake, and I am finishing off the remains of the chocolate frosting, cleaning the bowl with my tongue and fingers (best AND tastiest way to do it, by the way).


Subconsciously, coffee reminds me, I suppose, of more sophisticated, more grown-up me. Me of the times of my first sea-side holidays at the Black Sea resorts: never seen before, vastly spreading, endless, constantly breathing, moving, churning mass of water, sandy or pebbly beaches, palm trees, white hot sun, cool little cafes, plastic tables under the flapping colourful parasols on the terraces AND, experiencing and falling in love at the first "penetration"---with coffee (and if you are prudishly outraged by the word' choice,I'll humbly replace it with "sip", "gulp" or"mouthful", then.) Turkish-style, properly made on the heated sand, served in the tiny thick ceramic cups, with the lumps of white and brown sugar on the saucer next to it. Who could blame me for staying faithful to this noble infusion and never betraying this passion by switching to something more prosaic with a lot less "snob quality"?
To expose myself even further (no nudity, don’t you worry) and to humour some of my friends, suspecting me of the vice of being a snob, will have to admit to fully giving in to it (quite shamelessly, in fact), where the choice of the cafe; is concerned. While not being very fussy about the coffee at my work places( correct me, if I am wrong, but you can’t expect much from the vending machines’ kind of brew---free or twenty pens worth of murky liquid faintly smelling of burnt chicory), I am VERY particular of which brunch of chained coffee houses get their greedy, corrupted, globalisation governed hands on my hard-earned cash, when I am “out and about”.
Caffeine-fuelled snobbism in this case, therefore, is quite justified and I am a “Starbucks” fun, committed and faithful. Oh, please, don’t snigger, as I’ve heard it all before---“Starbucks”, being the “McDonald’s” of the coffee industry and their pretentious attempts at modern, super-urban cafes’ interiors, where the mixture of jazz music; shabby, cosy, worn out, supposedly flee market—bought furniture and “arty” lighting create the fake feeling of hip, flash atmosphere and give the punters a feeling of undeserved significance, “hipness”, being in touch and “ITness”.
Stupidly enough it works for most people, as it works for me----“Starbucks”, that much criticised and cursed company, is yet to fail to lure me into its’ comfortable, dimly lit coffee wafting “loin”. In my view, whoever is in charge of their designing team, has done a sterling job of it, costing, probably, tons of money, lots of marketing research and sociological studies. AND, most importantly, I am a real sucker for a good, properly maid espresso, which, true enough, might and WILL cost sometimes as twice, as less in any other coffee house, would it be “NERO” or “Coffee Republic”, or (don’t make me laugh ) “Benjies”.


After re-reading all of the above and having several cups of free machine-made “no sugar extra strong espressos” (drink number 53, and not the worst one of its’ kind—at least it doesn’t smell and taste faintly, like most of them, of halitosis), decided, that, yes, as painful it is for me to admit it, COFFEE is one of my few and rare weaknesses. But, as it rightly said, that our vices are the extensions of our virtues, I am holding on to it.

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[Запись для всех] 25-01-2006 07:26
Find the number of calories you burn during exercise.
http://health.msn.com/fitness/artic...entid=100106088

Kilos to pounds conversion ---weight in kilograms multiplied by 2.2.
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[Запись для всех] 24-01-2006 18:31
It's iron rock-n-roll time.
ONE DAY OFF TRAINING (YESTERDAY) AND ALREADY I AM FEELING LOST, CONFUSED AND ANXIOUS. NONE OF THEM IS THE FEELINGS I WOULD RECOMMEND ANYBODY SHOULD EVER EXPERIENCE. AND DON’T GET ME WRONG—TRAINING IS MY PASSION, MY LOVE AMD MY LIFE; BUT OBSESSION AND PARANOIA FALL INTO SOMEWHAT DIFFERENT CATEGORY ALTOGETHER, THE CATEGORY, WHERE” HEALTHY” STOPS AND “SICK” BEGINS. AS SUCH, THEY SHOULD BE BRANDED UNPLEASANT AND UNATTRACTIVE AND IMPRISONED TO THE BACK YARD OF MY MIND, TOGETHER WITH THE REST OF MY FEARS AND PHOBIAS.

YOU, PROBABLY KNOW, HOW IT GOES; IF I MISS MY WORKOUT…

I LOSE EVERYTHING I TRAINED SO HARD FOR.

MY MUSCLES SHRINK BY THE MINUTE.

I GET FAT, ROUND AND SMOOTH.

MY STRENGTH LEAKS FROM MY BODY, LIKE AIR FROM A WORN RETREAD.

THE WORLD BECOMES A FRIGHTENING PLACE.

I CAN’T THINK, MAKE DECISIONS OR GET OUT OF BED.

I WANNA PULL MY HAIR OUT.

I FEEL SLUGGISH AND HAVE NO APPETITE.

UNRESOLVED STRESS HAUNTS MY SOUL AND I CAN NOT STOP EATING.

I MISS THE GYM, THE SOUNDS, THE SMELLS AND THE MOVEMENT OF METAL.

I LONG FOR THE PUMP AND BURN AND EXHILARATION OF A GREAT WORKOUT.

I CRAVE THE ORDER AND RHYTHM AND FULFILLMENT OF A THOROUGH TRAINING SESSION.

I WANT TO CRUSH THINGS, THAT GET IN MY WAY…

THE LIST OF THINGS I START FEARING AND IMAGINING, WHILE ON THE GYM’S LAYOFF, COULD GO ON FOREVER (AND I ACTUALLY BORROWED A FEW FROM DAVE DRAPER’S ONE). I COULD SIT AT MY DESK AND SPECULATE FOR THE ETERNITY ABOUT WHAT MY BUM WILL SOON START LOOKING LIKE (H-U-G-E), IF I MISS ANOTHER DAY OF WORKING OUT; OR PICTURE THE FAT CELLS, HAPPILY MULTIPLYING ON THE VAST CIRCUMFERENCE OF MY THIGHS IN CASE OF ONE MORE DAY OF LAZINESS AND INDULGENCE. YEAH, I GUESS I COULD DO ALL THAT AND END UP BEING FLABBY, DOUGHY AND PODGY. OR I COULD GIVE MYSELF A THOROUGH TALKING TO, A GOOD SLAP, TEAR MY ASS OFF THE OFFICE CHAIR, PULL MY SWEATS ON AND START MY PERSONAL EVENING ONE-WOMAN PUMPING SHOW. (What a "weighed" decision.) IRON IS CALLING. I LISTEN , OBEY AND FOLLOW.

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[Запись для всех] 23-01-2006 16:24
M-I-S-E-R olithic Era.
Today is the beginning of the worst week per annum and the most miserable day of the year. Officially.
Apparently, there is none of your old magical ball or “It’s all in the stars” mumbo-jumbo involved. It’s all science, pure and simple. There is the whole team of researches behind this discovery, and all the information is factually based, mathematically equated and computer-processed. The formula includes amount of days elapsed since Christmas, multiplied by the average level of debts, with the weather condition, taken into consideration and the statistically backed level of post-holiday depressions. All this is divided by the failed for the God only knows what time New Year resolutions (gym membership, new diet, language or computer studies, to name but a few) with pre- and post- Christmas redundancies added up for the effect of total bleakness and blackness of the picture. The good news is though—they did not deprive us of hope completely. The single life belt was thrown in, letting the whole miserable nation to see a dim ray of sunshine, to catch a glimpse of light at the end of the tunnel: as of today, it’s the best time for a head-start of making changes in your life, for taking the charges, getting out of the sticky situations, for realising your projects and ideas. In short, the winter hibernation is still in full swing, but the spring-time is not too far away and there is nothing we could do, but begin waking up, however reluctant; and regardless of how cosy and comfy things are in our slumber-land, it can not last forever.
This was just what I simply couldn’t do the whole week end. To wake up, I mean. Weeks of non-stop double shifts, incessant training, very early morning hours of cardio sessions, finally, caught up with me and all I was capable of on Saturday mid-afternoon was to tell one of my men “You are going to the gym without me today”, and to the other “You are going to your girlfriend this very moment!!!” . And then, on both their departures, gathering the very last shreds of my strength, I dragged myself on to the sofa, burrowed into the soft, plump nest of the duvet and slept for three straight hours. Spent the rest of the day more or less in the prone position, remote control in hand, watching wall-to-wall detectives and murder mysteries on the telly, both of my men safely away---one visiting a friend after the gym session, the other staying at his girlfriend’s. What a bliss, what an utter and perfect “female paradise”— sofa, Agatha Christie on TV. No men. And no cooking.
Now at least I’ve got a proper, scientific explanation to my “lowest of the low, knackeredest of the knakered” mood and feeling. It wasn’t me, after all, but those bloody stubborn statistics one has no choice, but obey. And is it a small wonder, that I felt, like a “Kit-Kat” every minute of the past two days (in the anticipation of the worst still to come, obviously) and simply couldn’t stop eating; was stuffing my face (with all the good stuff, mind) up to my bed time and even in the middle of the night was woken up by the hunger pangs and cries for food from the very depth of my soul (that’ll be my stomach, by the way). Wonderful thing, modern technology, is it not? You could blame almost anything on it nowadays and keep your conscience virginally clear and intact.
Being self-styled eternal optimist, however, couldn’t bring myself to end this entry on somewhat pessimistic note. And, as I always believed that you could draw any amount of positive conclusions from your most negative experiences,--- being on the bottom (and commencing the most miserable week of the year would be equal to it ), very often means, that the only way for you to go now is up.


This haiku was written on the 22nd of December 2005, the day of the Winter Solstice, when, with the Nature turn towards the Spring, I ,for the umpteenth time, reminded myself, that things could only be better from now on.

"The longest
Winter night
Has gone.

All hail the Sun".

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[Запись для всех] 20-01-2006 13:47
Have a splashing time.
As seen on the BBC News 24. There is a W-H-A-L-E in the river Thames, splashing about and making its’ way inland. Nobody knows, neither how the mammal got into the river, nor where exactly it’s heading. Half of the “Mirror” advertising department , the whole of the “Racing Post” newspaper and I watched the short report, fascinated and happy with any excuse to get some destruction from work. It caused quite a heated discussion and even gave birth to a few ingenious ideas, as to the nature of the creature’s sudden appearance in the Thames muddy “fresh” waters, as well as direction it was taking (away from the Ocean). The “brainstorming” suggestions ranged from “middle life crises” , “gone fishing” and “Cod-father on the sightseeing trip” to “He is looking for a rWHALEway station”.
I, personally, thought, that this gentle giant was simply enjoying himself and HAVING a WHALE OF TIME.

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[Запись для всех] 18-01-2006 10:46
Close encounter "Reggae-style".
It’s just one of the many I experience on the daily basis, while traveling to or from work. And not necessarily ALL OF THEM had a spicy taste of Caribbean. Some had a hint of Mediterranean flavour in them, some ---a whiff of East( both of old Asia and Eastern Europe), some emanated the distinct odour of cannabis, and some were simply malodorous. And I did try not to take any of them too close or too personal, but once in a while couldn’t help wondering: is it just me, who’s got “Weirdoes welcome!” sign, written all over me, or are their embarrassing and disturbing actions, like a proverbial banana skin, waiting on the pavement; the one you would avoid for a while, but sooner or later bound to step upon, slip on it and fall down, to the secret delight and amusement of fellow passers-by(or travelers in this story), who would do their best to pretend they haven’t noticed anything, they were just minding their business and, who, not so deep inside, would be relieved, that, thanks Goodness, it were YOU, not THEM, put on the spot, dying from the injured pride and public humiliation.
This is, of course, the worst case scenario, the unpleasant traveling incident taken to its’ most extreme. And I had them too, those every passengers' nightmares: once with an insolent Asian teenager, smoking on the train (and I had a go at him in front of the silent and “I’m just minding my own business and not getting involved” carriage). Another one was a proper bust-up with a woman-junkie, who just wouldn’t leave me alone, who was, in fact, a “head case”, a complete nut AND on the “dry run” too (or so I thought)--desperate for her “fix” and not having any money to buy it with. So she did the next best thing---molested or almost attacked the one, who dared look her right into the eye, wrinkle her nose and turn away contemptuously (well, to my defense, she did smell remarkably badly; and I’ve got a very sensitive nose).
My yesterday “play pal” was nothing of the aforementioned species: not a smoker, not an addict. But as mad, as a hatter, nevertheless. He had a great presence, loads of panache and flare, a body of a slightly emaciated male cat-walk model—--tall, slim, gracefully angular; tons of style and a unique dress sense. Oh, and strange light silvery-grey eyes on the dark, predatory Jamaican face. True, his dreadlocks might’ve been kept in a better condition and may have even been washed once or twice in a blue moon. But disastrous hairdo could be forgiven, for I simply couldn’t help admiring his outfit: very tightly fitted, figure hugging, small black leather jacket worn underneath the same colour, but bigger, softer, flowy, also leather coat, draping around his body, like a poncho. Tight, khaki coloured drain-pipe jeans, decorated with zips and pockets; and tan-leather, knee-high, laced-on-the front, 30-s fashion "chauffer boots".
He walked on the platform bobbing up and down, perfect imitation of Jon Travolta’s gait in “Greese”, arched his Mephisto’s eyebrow and who else did he picked, but ME, as his victim? It simply MUST BE, that I exude some un-felt by normal people pheromones, radiate some invisible to ordinary folks rays, which make me an easy pray for the secret society of the commuting freaks. Otherwise, why, out of the few dozen people, waiting for the train, I was singled out and had all this undivided and VERY unwelcome attention lavished on me? To be fair to the guy, he didn’t do anything TOO outrageously preposterous. He pressed the button opening the door of the train for me, bowed (and such a proper and LOW bow it was) and said “After you”. Then, while already on the train, he was walking up and down the aisle in the same “springy” Danny Zukko manner, stopping next to where I was sitting, flashing me a scary, pirate’s smile, turning abruptly and walking back, swinging his hips side to side(a lot better, have to admit, than Marilyn Monroe ever did). He completed this promenade three times, each one of them was “highlighted” by a toss of his gloves all the way from the middle of the carriage into the wall next to the door, where I was sitting.
Finally, after the third(and last) demonstration of “target shooting”, this Caribbean Wonder plonked himself down on the seat just ahead of me, turned around, and said, fixing me with his piercing stare: ”This was all for your appreciation, by the way”. Then the demented creature got up and left the train at the next stop. I was left with my mouth open and a question "W-H-Y, pray, oh, W-H-Y?! Because you got high?!" unasked, cooling on the end of my tongue.
And (here comes the revellation) despite the fact, that I was slightly confused by such a display of sudden affection (Do I show any signs of late development of the Down Syndrome, by the way, if I am supposed to be impressed by such bizarre antics?); AND despite the fact, that this attention was irritating and annoying, surprisingly even for myself, I was strangely and absurdly flattered by it.
Does this officially qualify me as a “ginger nut” now, and, as such, does it entitle me to my very own, permanently reserved on my name, cup at any “Mad Tea Party”?



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[Запись для всех] 16-01-2006 15:07
Russian-born (or dead) entertainment.
"The patient is more dead, than alive"... Well, this was my diagnosis, anyway. From the moment I stepped on to the people congested tarmac of Trafalgar Square on the bleak Saturday winter afternoon. It confirmed my worst fears, once I saw the not so lavishly decorated space, two beer selling kiosks (or tents, would be more suitable name for them) on the opposite sides of the square, proudly named “Moscow bar” and “St. Petersburg bar”; the stage with garishly made-up girls, modelling a collection of fur coats, clad in fur from head to toe, in fact. As much, as I am opposed to “Green Peace” hypocrisy, THIS was taking the things a tad too far for my taste. AND for the taste of a few more Londoners, who, if facial expressions are anything to go by, were as outraged, as I was uncomfortable. Even noticed a few hands, feasts clenching and unclenching instinctively, groping blindly around for an imaginary can of green spray-paint.
The show promised to be of the kind one endures, rather, than enjoys; the type one could hardly wait to be over; or leaves without bothering to stay till it ends.
And this I’m afraid, was just what we did. Left without giving this exotic "fete" a second chance or even a second glance. Things were not greatly helped by my husbands’ heavy cold, his pathological loathing of the crowds and his complete unfamiliarity with any artists or bands on the stage. After an hour of rather impatient viewing and listening, he confessed, in a somewhat imperial manner, that he simply had enough, could bare no longer all this “variety” nonsense and would sell his immortal soul for a cup of tea in front of the telly on the soft stretch of HIS sofa, in the seclusion of HIS house. Any faint hope I might have for a long anticipated meeting, chat and pint with DireHtor, were thus destroyed and vanished into the sludgy-grey London’s sky the same way the remains of the widely advertised, built out of ice, 4 metres high St. Basil’s Cathedral, melted and disappeared into the thin air.
I was leaving with the mixed feelings and emotions. Sorry, on one hand, not to be able to sit in the smoke filled semi-darkness of the pub with the perspiring glass of cold beer in front of me, catching up on all the gossip with Masha and her sisters. Highly relieved, on the other, not to have witness any longer the embarrassing performance, quite a few of Russia’s rumoured “finest” were conducting on stage, doing their best to lower our country’s prestige. One of those so-called “celebrities”, namely Mr. Malakhov, a popular TV presenter, apparently, might’ve even passed for “funny”, has he not been so pitiful and sad, with his bizarre outfit of yellow mackintosh, old men usually wear to flash on commons, and his language, which he was trying to pass for “English.” And in the very place of this tongue’s birth too! “Show some respect, mate!” I felt like saying. “Do us all a favour: learn some basics, some good, plain phrases and a few popular ones, and everybody will benefit from it. You could, finally, claim your affinity to “fluent” English and we would be saved from the shame, called “Russians in Europe”.
The other tragic part of this farce, which I, thankfully, missed, was a speech, given to the expectant Londoners by none the other, than the mayor of Moscow, Mr. Luzhkov. Judging by the pictures in Russian newspapers and by the essay in DireHtor’s diary, this kind of public speaking was last heard in America in mid-sixties and was accompanied by shoe waving/banging and by promising to, what might be loosely translated from VERY common Russian to more delectable English, "show the world, who is the boss”. And if you are confused, as to the true identity of this BOSS person, it’s not a Big Daddy, and NOT even a Puff Daddy, but a mere mother of a boy, called Kuz’ka.
And while nobody took up the former Soviet premier at his word, and the whole planet is still waiting to see, who this esteemed lady really is, I could only sum up both leaders in the sentence pinched from their truly great and famous colleague: ”There is only one step from sublime to ridiculous”.
On our departure I looked back at the people milling round the small circumference of the London’s most visited spot: at the Lord Horatio Nelson, occupying his vantage position, up on his speal, facing the river, stiff back turned to the mob below; at the already tipsy hard-faced men in black leather jackets; at the blond-haired, dark-rooted over made-up women with the blusher, applied in eighties’ style—--from the temples down to the corners of the mouths; and thought “If you lot, are calling this thing E-N-T-E-R-tainment, please, show me, where the " E-X-I-T" is!!!”


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[Запись для всех] 13-01-2006 19:23
Black Friday?
More, like brown for me. Or shitty, in this particular case. Literary. For there was a lot of it in the men’s changing room toilet. And being a manager of the gym entitles you not only aid people’s weight loss, but apparently, they feel it’s entirely appropriate for them to share their waste loss with you too. And this is supposedly well educated, well brought up, smartly turned out middle class folks. And, by the way, what is it with the middle class and dirt? They would wrinkle their snooty noses at a neighbors’ dog litter on the pavement and haughtily expect somebody to shovel their excrements, as a simple matter of course. And you would think they were never properly potty trained and don’t know the difference between the loo paper and the paper towel. The former wouldn’t block the toilet, but the latter will, you morons!!!
And usually does with the regularity of the winter rains in this country---twice a week.
And today, being fed up with somebody pooh-poohing the beginning of my weekend, I was really tempted to stick a sand box in the men’s loo and be done with it. If they act in the manner of the tomcats, they might as well defecate in the same way.
Other than this little unfortunate incident (NUMBER TWO this week, and what a choice of words!), my "triskaidekaphobia" so far hasn’t been justified by any other bizarre, strange or downright unhappy occurrences. But it’s not over yet. And you know, what they say:” It’s ain't over, till the fat lady sings”.
Any volunteers?

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[Запись для всех] 12-01-2006 11:26
The lady and the tramp.
What do you think of at 5 o’clock on a chilly winter morning, boarding the cold and empty bus, carrying you away from the safe and secure warmth of the little nest of the house all the way down to the cruel dangerous world of the “stone jungle”—- the City? Or, rather, what have I been thinking of every morning, for the past three weeks, while staring blankly out of the bus’ window into the darkness behind it, or blinking confusedly, when blinded by the splash of lights from already opened shops or by the head lights of a car, passing by? It wouldn’t be a surprise, perhaps, if I told you, that there wasn’t much going on in my head on any given morning out of all of them. In fact, I would go even further, and admit, freely and openly, that there wasn’t a single thought in my head, worth mentioning to anyone at all. Fair enough, some stray lost genius idea might’ve been floating by at any moment at the time in questions---namely in between 5 and 6:30 am. This is how long my whole way to work takes---from the moment I close the front door of the house behind me to the moment I set my foot inside the gym on the 21st floor of The Canary Wharf Tower.
And it might’ve even visited that vast and empty space underneath the prettily shaped cupola of my skull, known, as a brain, and at the best of times, possessing all the necessarily equipment to qualify as such.
We are still talking about great ideas, by the way, if you lost me.
But scared by the hollowed and echoing black cosmos inside and a few pale ghosts of the euricas-still-to-be or great-ideas- once--has-been, it, probably, felt unwelcome, threatened and intimidated and, upset and offended, hurried away on the search of the shelter less fragile and the mind more alert and sharp, than mine has been since two weeks before Christmas. At least I could now fully appreciate the irony of the phrase “The idea was floating in the air”.
Yesterday, however, I was rudely awakened from my not such unpleasant half-lethargy, half-slumber. Brought up from my dreams with a jolt, so to speak, as though there were not enough of them (the jolts), every time the bus was passing over the hurdles!
It was a black guy, a tramp, begging for money, talking to himself and to the passengers AND to the world in general, or so it seemed. Gesturing, laughing, pointing. Even making a few feeble attempts of rapping to the particularly difficult "customers". And at half-five in the morning there were quite a few of them, believe you me.
One of them is writing this very entry at this very moment. Thankfully, I was spared the privilege. But quite a few of “brovvers” were subjected to this doubtful “honours”. The guy, however, wasn’t in the least put out by the people’s contempt and the “cold shoulder” he was given.
Most likely, he was used to it, anyway, and it looked to me, that he wasn’t even looking for money, but for a some kind of human contact, for some sort of “communicational” morning entertainment. Probably, got cold and bored, huddling under his blanket on the steps of some office block or outside the doorway of the 24-hours open shop. Wrong time of the day, mate. Wrong crowd, too. Mid-day or mid-afternoon, around five-ish, when City folks have finished their stressful and demanding day in the office and are either on the way towards their first pint in a pub or already had one and therefore in good mood AND good spirits (excuse the pun) and would welcome any sort of "funny nonsense". Unfortunately, at this time of the day, all your talents were completely lost on the bunch of early morning cleaners, a few workaholic clerks and an unhappy underpaid and overworked fitness manager.
This tramp I am talking about was nothing if not funny and amusing. With great conversational skills and manners of Lady Penelopie’s butler, Parker, from “Thunderbirds”. With his famous, almost exact, slightly lisping, soft East End, Cockney accent. He was addressing the men on the bus, as “gov’nor” and women, as “m’lady”. The only criticism I might offer ---his monologues lucked variety .“Mono”, because the other side, as a rule, did not say much. Just a movement of the head, indicating “No”. Or “Go away”.
Here is the shorthand of it: ”Excuse me, Gov’nor, could you spare 50 pens, please?”… Indignant silence, or silent “NO!” (used to be 20 pens, by the way, this "beggars fee". Must've went up after the New Year, the way everything usually goes up at this time, according to inflation. What a curious world, where even the tramps are keeping with the time!) … “Are you travelling to your working place, Gov’nor?”(or “M’lady?”)… Stony gaze…. “I wish I had a job”. (We all wished he did, would be safe to say here)…... “You have a pleasant day now, Gov”...
And on and on and on it went, till I left the bus at Liverpool Street Station and fully woke up to the hell of a day ahead and left the tramp cum rapper cum “butler” in the part of my mind, used as a storage compartment for everything worth storing, however big or small.

Subsequently, all of the above is the result of the hidden creative mind work in progress: impressions and emotions stashed, processed and regurgitated. Another little sketch to add to my collection of life’s weird and wonderful.

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[Запись для всех] 10-01-2006 16:48
ARM dealer.
After the thorough inspection of my “winter physique” (read “white, flabby and podgy”), conducted this morning with the aid of the shower-steamed bathroom mirror, after close scrutiny of each body part on their own and the body, as a whole, came to a disheartening conclusion, the one, which felt almost like a blow, a kick in the gut : you can’t change your genetics (or, if you could, then to the certain extent only); AND the body structure you’re “blessed” with is FOR LIFE; AND a lugging body part is ALWAYS going to be your problem area. The one you have to work your ass off to achieve the tiniest improvements in. AND this very body part, you spend half of your life bringing up, will let you down at the first opportunity. In other words: it’s your burden, your curse and obsession, make your peace with it. Keep on training. Carry on. Regardless.
Have I not mentioned what my little unhappy moan is about? Well, it’s pretty obvious, once you’ve seen me undressed (NOT going to happen, by the way. NOT in your lifetime, buster). That “problem child” of mine, that “culprit of the limbs family”---my arms. True enough, they are bigger, than any pair you might see on the average lady. But, first, I am not your average female, and second, obsession is not just an illness, it’s THE illness, and you have to respect that. Cutting short the bout of verbal diarrhea, which I am subjected to from time to time, let’s get down to business. The business of the “Iron game”. The one I am engaged in daily (soon will be nightly. 24 hours “Muscle limit gym”, here I come!), and the one I am still waiting to get tired of.

Arms training split.


Tuesday.

Alternate DB curls.
BB curls.
Preacher cable curls.
Hammer DB curls.
Triceps cable pushdowns.
Skull-crushers.
Bench dips.
DB kickback.



Saturday.

EZ-bar curls.
Machine preacher curls.
Seated cable row curls to the forehead.
Rope cable pushdowns.
Machine seated triceps extensions.
Seated overhead cable extensions.


And hopefully, after training this way for 2-3 months (this is the plan, anyway), I will be able to present myself to the world.
ARMed and dangerous !!!
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[Запись для всех] 09-01-2006 15:56
Nobody does it better.
Meaning, that there is nobody better, than myself at getting into the lurch and then having to employ all the sources of my body and mind, at putting together a last minute rescue plan (not dissimilar to the famous Munhgausen’s swamp hair pull) or at attempting to bluffing my way out of the sticky situation. Brought on, it would be fair to notice again, by myself. Created by my unswaying belief in my impeccability and perfection, my arrogant assurance, that I, like Caesar’s wife is always “above reproach”. I do have this moments of ”superiority complex”, combined with not that carefully consealed contempt and disgust for the outside world. In such moments (and great they are too, however rare) I live in the strange world of brilliant dreams and vague memories, events, which never happened, in the far-far away land,in the countries never discovered. I guess, my eternal tiredness is to blame for this escapes into the fantasy and AOWL-style runs from reality. And if it was up to me, I would’ve gone to Never-never LAND and NEVER come back.
I wonder, what Uncle Freud would make out of my behavioural pattern and how soon he would’ve had me in the straight jacket and behind the barred windows?
In the meanwhile, till I am still able to enjoy this flights “over the cuckoo nest “ let all the shrinks in the world rub their hands in anticipation of their best psychiatric case still to come, and for me to spread my mind from one side of horizon to another and forget for a few blissful moments about the “down to earth” life I am seemingly leading, hiding underneath my “sober and sane person” image.
It’s good sometimes to be completely mad and utterly crazy. Is it not? It feels so liberating and refreshing to kick away the cobwebs of mediocre existence, don up white sparkly wings, and dive from the cliff, head first, singing at the top of my lungs: ”Baby, you are the best!”
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[Запись для всех] 06-01-2006 07:33
Time waits for no man...
And for no woman either. It seems, that for days now I've been running around in circles, , trying to catch up on things, which were left behind, put off till "the day after tomorrow"; heaped up, like yesterday washing up in the kitchen sink, or swept under the carpet, the way a pile of dirt and dust gets hidden by a lazy houswife. Now I am paying a hefty prize for that. And since I can't unloose myself from this binding millstone, the only solution not even of choice but of necessity (and of desperation ) is hauling the burden up to my shoulder and desposing of it.
Somebody called me at work yesterday and told me, that even over the phone I sounded "busy, tired and harassed".
You know what the most upsetting thing is? It is NOT even a sexual harassment.
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[Запись для всех] 03-01-2006 09:00
Barking mad.
Not such a “Frequently Asked Question” found in the January edition of “Musclemag”.
Have to confess: was weeping with mirth and wiping tears of hysterical braying, while reading it.




“Lately I’ve heard some scary stories about women’s vaginas, that have been giving me nightmares. One of the scariest things I’ve hears, is, that a guy’s penis could get stuck in a woman’s vagina, preventing him from pulling it out.. The other story is, that some women have ridges in their vaginas, that are almost like teeth---the woman can use these ridges to cause extreme pain to a man’s penis. Do this stories have any truth in them? If they do, I’ll start thinking about switching teams”.
D.L.
Santa Fe, New Mexico.


Well, have I been the editor of “Musclemag”s “On Matters of Sex” column, first, I would’ve had a laughing fit (which I did have anyway, regardless of my non-editorial position); second, I would, probably, get horrified at the naivety, stupidity and medieval frame of mind of the person, asking the question AND luck of sexual education in South America in the Era of the Internet ; and, third, I would’ve kept this one for a special issue of the magazine. Something like “It shouldn’t happened to the Fitness Magazine Editor” Christmas special.
A biting vagina!!! What could be more appropriate for the year 2006, which, according to Chinese calendar, we will be spending guarded by its'symbol ---- the Red Dog. “Woof-woof “.
Hide your teeth, lady Vagina, and wag your curly tale. That is, of course, if your owner hasn’t subjected you to a full “Brazilian”, as a New Year treat. In which case therapeutical barking and biting is not just permissible, but eminently appropriate. To let the steam out, so to speak. Steaming genitalia… Now, that is a thought! And even more scary one, than a bold and ridged one!!! And if you’ve got a frisky imagination and the mind on the slightly dirty-ish side (like myself), you might've already formed quite a funny picture in your head, which, combined with basic drawing skill, could help you to repair Christmas and New Year damaged budget by selling it to any lad’s (read “P-O-R-N”) magazine. Oh, no, wait, don’t rush to grab a pen and piece of paper ! First, it’s MY idea and "COPYRIGHT" as such; and, second, I still might consider sketching the cartoon myself. I could even try and incorporate into the picture my husband's and mine New Year’s Eve dogs' fight, which we had in honour of the Oriental astrology. "Doggie-style" New Year, if you wish.
And if I give my post-holiday sluggish, fat and sugar insulated, alcohol-dulled brain a good enough kick, it might surprise me by getting its’ celebration straightened curves into gear and come up with a witty sign for the caricature. Something about mad dogs and crazy bitches, heat, manger and juicy bones.
Something with double entendres and plenty of "bite" in it.
Might even have a “Hair of the dog” later, in a pub, to get my creative juices flowing. (Does it ring the bell, doctor Pavlov?)
Or, could leave all the pretence and attempts of originality behind, and simply say :”IT'S A DOG'S LIFE!!!”

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[Запись для всех] 30-12-2005 07:29
True Musclebuilders don't let go!!!...(Dave's weekly letter).
" …They Just Modify Their Grip

It ain’t over till it’s over -- December 28th and counting. There’s still
time to squeeze in a few more workouts and pump out a few more sets. How
many of us have trained till the gym is closing and some poor sap is
dragging a mop around the floor, putting plates away and turning off the
lights?

"The gym's closed, ya bums,'' he says wearily.

"One more set... two more minutes... three more reps.'' The pleas from
various corners of the gym floor are pathetic.

The need to build bigger muscles makes a mutt out of a good man or woman.
Some people claim it’s been written in certain ancient manuscripts that
the love of muscles is the root of all evil. This rather matches the old
axioms, “Mutts and sinners make good bedfellows,'' and “Live by the steel,
die by the steel.''

A pound of iron shaped like a dumbbell is worth more than a pound of gold
secured in a vault.

I have thus far made it through the exciting yet trying season without
falling off the wagon. Some lovable wise guys sent us select chocolates,
brownies and schnapps, which we sat on a tray for display. One
particularly tempting brownie was unwrapped and Laree and I shared it over
the course of three days. Neither of us gained a pound, had a seizure or
went into shock. What a relief. I haven’t missed a workout, though their
intensity has been reduced to wreck and ruin, down significantly from
slaughter and devastation.

I, contrary to my associates, carry a lighter bodyweight this holiday
season and struggle to maintain it (215, down from 225). Eating, as it is
a discipline, is often a chore of fueling, and less than a merry occasion.
Prepare, gulp and clean up, heavy on the protein, sameness of content,
regular mealtime intervals, eating whether hungry or not and often alone
-- all this adds up to another workout of sorts. I’d have it no other
way... because no other way works.

The lighter bodyweight is both heaven and hell. I miss the size and power
and assurance, but enjoy the leanness, looseness and trimness. Once
adjusted to the sacrifice in mass, strength and pumping capability of the
heavier bodyweight, I enjoy lightweight training with increased pace, less
attention to weight used and more attention to feeling and muscle
engagement. The workouts are more fun, less stressful and seem to be
healthier and more profitable, productive.

There’s no doubt we get hung up on the need for heavy weight in our
training and no doubt heavy weight in phases of our training is imperative
-- for muscle mass and density, power and mental satisfaction. But there
are times when heavy training can be counterproductive and injurious. We
insist on pushing our limits and tear a muscle, wrench a joint or endure
the depression of diminishing strength. And, realistically, there comes a
time when heavy training and its pursuit must be put aside. Injury, age or
life’s priorities take their proper place in the driver’s seat.

We sufficiently and rightly resist the arrangement, but we are wise to let
go in time. And “letting go'' is not “letting go,'' as in submission, but,
rather, advantageously grasping a more beneficial and rewarding method of
training. There are other levels of training and degrees of advancement we
need to discover and explore.

This does not mean we cannot retain or will not return to certain power
training moves that are likable and favorable. I can’t push, but I can
pull. I can’t jump high, but I can squat low. A bench press will bury me
alive, but I can deadlift a quarter ton. Raw dogs love to gnaw on big
bones.

2005 is almost behind us with all its guts and glory, failure and success.
2006 is ahead with hope and promise and awesome endeavor. If life were a
vast ocean and I a small vessel, I’d see myself clutching the helm with
both hands and staring into the hazy distance as I negotiated the rough
waters around me. Rough waters are a struggle that keep me nimble and
quick; the distant seas an unknown that cause me to wonder. Steady as she
goes, mates, we have mounting swells and endless whitecaps, black nights
and bright dawns, winds from hell and the calm waters before the storm.

How better does one equip oneself for life in the sea of time than
training with iron and fueling oneself with quality food? No answer
required, just a pause of recognition. Administering the two simple
antidotes provides the third, the mental strength one needs as well:
discipline, patience and perseverance -- never let them rest. Heave ho and
thar they blow.

You heard it: my last declaration of the Bomber’s credo for the year. One
day I expect ya’ll to retaliate by bombarding me with unblockable
cascading spam, causing my computer to crash and me to eject in some
unknown and impenetrable terrain.

Resisting convention, I’m not going to mention New Year’s resolutions this
season. Whoops, too late... I just did... Son-of-a-gun! That being the
case, have you made any? It’s the perfect time and not a bad idea for the
average person to install one or two (5 to 10) fresh and smart disciplines
or goals in their average lives. Let’s face it. Not everyone is driven to
improve themselves.

There is, I suspect, a common follow-your-nose aptitude and see-ya-later
attitude driving the masses of today’s world nowhere. A few folks
naturally improve with each step they take; a few struggle with all their
heart, a few are successfully coaxed and the swelling remainder take the
path of least resistance. Mediocrity, lethargy and poor fitness are their
companions. Tsk, tsk! Thankfully, we are not associated with that bunch.

The disappointing, yet encouraging thing is so little needs to be done to
accomplish so much. Here are six no-brainers that could revolutionize the
world: Dump the smokes, regulate the booze, eat right, exercise daily,
drop the bodyfat and think positively. Think about it. It’s not like I
said earn a million, acquire a degree, conquer cancer, make love not war,
get a real job and give 10% of your paycheck to the poor and needy. I
didn’t even suggest we stop corruption, stealing and cheating, drive-by
shootings, serial murder or child molestation.

The benefits gained immediately and gathered over time would include
sounder bodies, longer and healthier lives, brighter minds, clearer
thinking, higher self-esteem, greater productivity, lower medical and
insurance costs and bigger smiles. The closest we’re gonna get to heaven
on earth, brothers and sisters.

I could go on and on -- take the soda pop and junk-vending machines out of
schools, bring back phys-ed, ban violent video games (if not all) and
encourage wholesome disciplined activities -- extending the list of New
Year’s resolutions that should be naturally be in place.

The world, sometimes, looks like a pimple on the face of the universe.

Well, I guess that’s about as negative as one can get: the world’s zit and
its inhabitants are little festering germs. Surely, I jest. You know I
love this place and am grateful to be a resident. And to contribute to the
world’s marvelous cause I shall be more tolerant on the runway, make clear
paths for young bombers, keep my craft well lubed and in good repair, and
fly high and swift and far, an example to those less capable, needier. I
expect to see you at my wing, bombers.

Here’s to a Grand New Year, 2006. Go with God... DD

One closing thought: If you’re seeking or struggling to maintain a lower
bodyweight or smaller waistline, why bother?

As Americans grow heftier, automakers are making seats wider, adding more
space to interiors. Automakers have seats for increasingly rotund
motorists. The average larger man grew 27 pounds heavier and nearly an
inch-and-a-half wider in the hips from 1962 to 2000.

Why not enlarge the seat space behind the controls in the cockpit?

Only to allow for increased shoulder width, my child. Drink your Bomber
Blend. Use your thick bars. Grow!"

You too, Dave. Never stop growing(in all senses of the word). And Happy New Year to you!!! Fly high, Blond Bomber! God bless.

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[Запись для всех] 28-12-2005 10:56
"Mistletoe and wine..."
…Christmas time. The omni consuming madness of gift buying, house decorating, office parties going, turkey roasting, food devouring, wine drinking, under the mistletoe kissing and sales attending.
I have, probably, lived in England for too long now, as contrary to my own despising of all this “tradition-turned-commerce” rubbish, I, nevertheless, succumb to this seasonal bacchanalia of merriment and enjoyment. And how could I not, if my son informed me, two weeks before Christmas, that “we are having a traditional dinner and that’s it! Oh, and don’t worry about cooking, mum. I will help!” “As if!”- as he, himself used to say, when this phrase was considered “cool” by all his school mates. And the truth is, I can’t stand intruders in my kitchen, messing about, not knowing, how the things are done, eating half of the starters, while the main course is getting ready, etc., etc., etc. Maybe Santa Clause does need his little helpers and get along with them, but, then again, maybe, first, his kitchen is a little bit bigger, than mine; and, second, Santa has NEVER in his life had to endure my son’s so called “help”. Turns me into Gordon Ramsay, the mere thought of our mother-son cooking tandem, and, had I have a swear box next to the gas stove, it would’ve been full within 5 minutes of our proposed “cheftainship” Thank you, but, no, thank you. My not so polite rejection of his help didn’t sway my son’s determination to “have fun” even for a second. Having been deprived of the opportunity to burn, spill or break something in the kitchen, he has immediately chosen the next best thing: assigned himself, as a un-chief house decorator. And I immediately started regretting my original decision of not accepting his offer of “stuffing the bird” (“I would’ve thought you’ve had enough of this back at yours”,-Sashka’s NOT such a subtle remark. To give my boy credit, he took it in his stride, and even laughed at this very fine example of barrack humour.)
After an hour of my child’s attempts at creativity, our sitting room started resembling one of those realities TV series, showing DIY decorating disasters: garish, flashy,loud, with all the colours of the rainbow clashing with one another. To my shy probes at constructive criticism, all the response I’ve got was the condescending: ”Relax, mum. This is a masterpiece. "Avant-garde cum kitsch" example of the latest word in interior design”. Well, what could I do, but RELAX and enjoy our rare family get-together, Christmas dinner, traditional, yes, with all the usual—--turkey with chestnut stuffing, brussel sprouts, parsnip, roasted potatoes, cranberry sauce and a few frivolities in the form of stuffed vegetables, Greek salad and, for dessert, alongside with Christmas pudding, my very own chocolate cake.
My husband, for some reason, got into the festive spirit too, and put mistletoe all over the house—--above the kitchen door, above the dinner table, above the sofa, and, his che d’ouevre of a joke—-in the bedroom, above the bed. Not, that I had any objections to the last one(or, to any of them, come to think about it).
This is all on the “plus” side of my Christmas this year. Another two things, which made it a very pleasant experience: our gym will start working 24 hours 5 days a week from January (“The only bodybuilding gym in the UK to offer 24 hours service 5 days a week”, as they proudly put it.) AND, Enfield Council has finally come through and granted us our planning permission (The letter from them dropped on our door mat right on Christmas Eve. If this is not the best Christmas present ever, then I don't know, what is). Meaning, that from the middle of January it will be nothing, but a hard slog and manual labour, as we’ll be doing lots of preparatory work ourselves (Every silver lining comes with a cloud, ne's pas?)
On the “minus” side: my allergic reaction to the finally tasted birthday gift—“White Muscat” from the Crimean Massandra Cellar. It was so sickly-sweet, almost undrinkable, that the only way to improve the situation was juice of half a lemon to the half glass of wine. Hence my red, itchy and swollen ankles an hour after drinking the unfortunate concoction.
Another not such a cheering thing—the weather. Every year the whole of England is “dreaming of a white Christmas”. And almost every year the elements unfailingly let the country down. It was nice, bright, clear if somewhat cold 3 days. And then, when we’ve given up all the hopes of “Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow...”, on the morning of Bank holiday, it started. The snow. It didn’t last long, and true enough, it’s never settled. Started melting almost straight after making the contact with the grownd. But for a brief fifteen minutes everything around—the houses, the cars, the trees, the garden benches---looked very picturesque and almost fairy tale like. Our feeble attempts at building a snow man in the garden didn’t yield much success, as the amount of snow, collected from the whole lawn, was barely enough for moulding some pitiful approximation of a snow rat.
And last, but not least, in the list of not such positive things about this year’s Christmas, is the very heavy cold I am still lumbered with. I’ve had it on and off since my birthday and, unfortunately, haven’t given it any proper attention or treatment. If the things keep going the way they are going now, I will be celebrating New Year in bed. Not such a bad idea, actually, considering, that the mistletoe is still hanging in the bedroom, and my husband never has any second thoughts of joining me in it.
As for the cold… Well, could it be, that together, he and I, will find a cure for it? And if not…--- never mind. You simply can’t have it all, can you?


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[Запись для всех] 23-12-2005 09:50
Ho! Ho! Ho!
Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer.

Grandma got run over by a reindeer
Walking home from our house Christmas eve.
You can say there's no such thing as Santa,
But as for me and Grandpa, we believe.
She'd been drinkin' too much egg nog,
And we'd begged her not to go.
But she'd left her medication,
So she stumbled out the door into the snow.
When they found her Christmas mornin',
At the scene of the attack.
There were hoof prints on her forehead,
And incriminatin' Claus marks on her back.

Grandma got run over by a reindeer,
Walkin' home from our house Christmas eve.
You can say there's no such thing as Santa,
But as for me and Grandpa, we believe.

Now were all so proud of Grandpa,
He's been takin' this so well.
See him in there watchin' football,
Drinkin' beer and playin' cards with cousin Belle.
It's not Christmas without Grandma.
All the family's dressed in black.

And we just can't help but wonder:
Should we open up her gifts or send them back?

Grandma got run over by a reindeer,
Walkin' home from our house Christmas eve.
You can say there's no such thing as Santa,
But as for me and Grandpa, we believe.

Now the goose is on the table
And the pudding made of fig.
And a blue and silver candle,
That would just have matched the hair in Grandma'swig.
I've warned all my friends and neighbours.
Better watch out for yourselves."
They should never give a license,
To a man who drives a sleigh and plays with elves.

Grandma got run over by a reindeer,
Walkin' home from our house, Christmas eve.
You can say there's no such thing as Santa,
But as for me and Grandpa, we believe.


(Written by Randy Brooks.)


Never come across this one before. Thought it was quite funny, the whole Christmas murder mystery affair, with hoofprints of the culprit reindeer and the accomplice Santa's "marks" on the poor victim's back. Just what DID they do, I wonder?
AND it looks, like at least someone got their Christmas wish granted.




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[Запись для всех] 21-12-2005 16:55
Christmas carol.
Jingle Bells

Dashing through the snow, in a one-horse open sleigh,
Over the fields we go, laughing all the way.
Bells on bobtails ring, making spirits bright,
What fun it is to ride and sing a sleighing song tonight.

Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way!
O what fun it is to ride in a one-horse open sleigh.
Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way!
O what fun it is to ride in a one-horse open sleigh.

A day or two ago, I thought I'd take a ride
And soon Miss Fanny Bright, was seated by my side;
The horse was lean and lank, misfortune seemed his lot;
He got into a drifted bank and we got up sot

Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way!
O what fun it is to ride in a one-horse open sleigh.
Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way!
O what fun it is to ride in a one-horse open sleigh.

A day or two ago, the story I must tell
I went out on the snow, and on my back I fell;
A gent was riding by, in a one-horse open sleigh
He laughed as there I sprawling lie but quickly drove away

Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way!
O what fun it is to ride in a one-horse open sleigh.
Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way!
O what fun it is to ride in a one-horse open sleigh.

Now the ground is white, go it while you're young
Take the girls tonight, and sing this sleighing song;
Just get a bob-tailed bay, two-forty as his speed
Hitch him to an open sleigh and crack! you'll take the lead

Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way!
O what fun it is to ride in a one-horse open sleigh.
Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way!
O what fun it is to ride in a one-horse open sleigh.

**************************************************
***************


Just trying to put myself into a festive mood, as so far failed miserably to feel any joy or excitement in the view of the approaching holidays.

Everybody seems to be in a celebrating mood, going to various Christmas parties, having pub lunches (mostly consisting of vast quantities of liquor), enjoying themselves and having fun.
Call me a spoilsport, if you wish, but I am simply not up to joining in. Christmas and New Year always put me in the black mood. First, they bring back all the painful memories; the realization of how cold and empty my life has become five years ago and how we‘re never going to be together again, and, then, how little I appreciated, what I’ve come to think of now, as happiness, and what, at present, I miss more than anything else in the world.
As for the second reason of my bad temper, it’s the usual: the total profanation of one of the most important Christian celebrations; the commercialese of the whole affair; the agitated crowds in the shops; the greedy glint in the eyes of people, looking for pre-Christmas sales or hunting for bargains; the offers and deals most of the traders already having, etc, etc, etc…The meaning and the values of the event are totally forgotten, the ideas behind it completely trivialized and cashed upon. I hope, that at least myself and my family, and a few more people I know, will remember, what Christmas is all about. Love, faith, unity, support, forgiveness, miracle of life, glory of Good, defeat of Evil; hopefully---lots of white snow, decorated fur-tree, smell of apple logs in the hearth, all your loved ones around you and, of course, “JINGLE ALL THE WAY”.


Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 21-12-2005 09:00
Having it off...or the course of INTERCOURSE.

Source of info---Marina's diary(AGAIN!!!). I must be in my pre-Christmas slumber, or at the beginning of the wintery hybernation, hence the "borrowing"(polite word for "stealing" from the more creative people's journals. Poor excuse, I know, for the laziness and the brain-deadness I am experiencing right now, but haven't got any others to offer. Anyway, I enjoyed reading it. Hope a few more people will too.


Minks have intercourse that lasts an average of eight hours.


The chimpanzee holds the record for the quickest mammal sexual intercourse
session at an average of three seconds.

Most turkeys and giraffes are bisexual.

An adult gorilla's penis is only two inches long.

Humans, fish and porpoises share a common sexual practice -- fellatio

The penis of a dragonfly is shaped like a shovel, and has the ability to scoop out a male rivals semen.

The word pornography comes from the Greek meaning the writings of prostitutes.

In Ancient Greece, women would expose their vaginas to ward off storms at sea.

In ancient Greece and Rome, dildos were made out of animal horns, gold, silver, ivory and glass.

While nudity was considered commonplace to the ancient Greeks, a man was considered indecent if he had an exposed erection.

Both humans and porpoises have one social sex practice in common - group sex.

The penguin only has one single orgasm in a year.

The rhinoceros has a penis about two feet long.

The Black Widow spider eats her mate during or after sex.

A bull can inseminate 300 cows from one single ejaculation.

The sperm of a mouse is actually longer than the sperm of an elephant.

Sex education was first introduced into English schools in 1889.

Cleopatra invented her own diaphragm from camel's poop.

Еating the heart of a male partridge was the cure for impotence in ancient Babylon.

The left testicle usually hangs lower than the right for right-handed men. The opposite is true for lefties.

It takes a sperm one hour to swim seven inches.

The initial spurt of ejaculate travels at 28 miles per hour. By way of comparison, the world record for the 100 yard dash is 27.1 miles per hour.

Honking of car horns for a couple that just got married is an old superstition to insure great sex.

The most successful X-rated movie of all time is 'Deep Throat'. It cost less than $50,000 to make it and has earned more than $100 million dollars.

Women are most likely to want to have sex when they are ovulating.

30% of women over the age of 80 still have sexual intercourse either with their spouse or boyfriends.

Fellatio ranks as the number one sexual act desired by heterosexual men (no surprise there!)

Australian women have sex on the first date more than women the same age in the USA and Canada.

Women who went to college are more likely to enjoy both the giving and receiving of oral sex than high school dropouts. (Amazing what one learns in college).

60% of women say they did not enjoy sex their first time.

A "buckle bunny" is a woman who goes to rodeos with the express intent of having sex with a rodeo cowboy.

For every 35 pounds of weight a man carries over his ideal weight, his penis will appear to be one inch smaller.

It takes a sperm one hour to swim seven inches.

The Geisha of Japan would not perform fellatio because it was considered demeaning for the cultured to do so. "Venus observa" is the technical term for the "missionary position."

A man will ejaculate approximately 18 quarts of semen, containing half a trillion sperm, in his lifetime.

John Harvey Kellogg, the man who gave the world Corn Flakes, was an avid advocate for chastity.

A pig's orgasm can last up to 30 minutes.

The Bible mentions dildos. Ezekiel 16:17 says, "Thou hast also taken thy fair jewels of my gold and of my silver, which I had given thee, and madest to thyself images of men, and didst commit whoredom with them."

"Eurotophobia" is the fear of female genitalia.

The origin of the modern day confessional box comes from the Middle Ages. Before then, prostitutes who visited priests to confess their sins were often sexually assaulted.

The female bedbug has no sexual opening. To get around this dilemma, the male uses his curved penis to drill a vagina into the female.

Male bats have the highest rate of homosexuality of any mammal.

"Formicophilia" is the fetish for having small insects crawl on your genitals.

A man's beard grows fastest when he anticipates sex.

According to a U.S. market research firm, the most popular American bra size is currently 36C, up from 1991 when it was 34B.

In the Aztec culture avocados were considered so sexually powerful, virgins were restricted from contact with them.

Marilyn Monroe, the most celebrated sex icon of the 20th century, confessed to a friend that despite her three husbands and a parade of lovers, she had never had an orgasm.

According to a survey of sex shop owners, cherry is the most popular flavor of edible underwear. Chocolate is the least popular.

"Ithyphallophobia" is a morbid fear of seeing, thinking about or having an erect penis.

A sow will always have an even number of teats, usually 12.

The average shelf-life of a latex condom is about two years.

14% of Americans have skinny-dipped with a member of the opposite sex at least once.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------





Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 19-12-2005 11:37
'Tis the season to be jolly...
But, as it transpire from the following little essey, not EVERYBODY and not ALWAYS "eat, drink and get merry" at the Merriest of Holidays.

(Pinched, as it's become already a good custom of mine, from Marina D's diary in "Live Journal". Thanks, pal! Keep them coming!)

"When four of Santa's elves got sick, and the trainee elves did not produce the toys as fast as the regular ones, Santa was beginning to feel the pressure of being behind schedule.
Then Mrs. Claus told Santa that her Mom was coming to visit. This stressed Santa even more.
When he went to harness the reindeer, he found that three of them were about to give birth and two had jumped the fence and were out, heaven knows where. More stress.

Then when he began to load the sleigh one of the boards cracked, and the toy bag fell to the ground and scattered the toys. So, frustrated, Santa went into the house for a cup of apple cider and a shot of rum. When he went to the cupboard, he discovered that the elves had hidden the liquor, and there was nothing to drink. In his frustration, he accidentally dropped the cider pot, and it broke into hundreds of little pieces all over the kitchen floor. He went to get the broom and found that mice had eaten the straw end of the broom.

Just then the doorbell rang, and irritable Santa trudged to the door. He opened the door, and there was a little angel with a great big Christmas tree. The angel said, very cheerfully, "Merry Christmas, Santa. Isn't it a lovely day? I have a beautiful tree for you. Where would you like me to stick it?"



And so began the tradition of the little angel on top of the Christmas tree.


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[Запись для всех] 17-12-2005 12:07
" Beauty is in the eye of the beholder " or "Girls night out".
Actually, it meant to be blow-by-blow account of yesterday’s REAL meeting of VIRTUAL friends and acquaintances, starting with my and Masha workout in the "Mirror" gym and ending with our ante-pub, homeless style meal, consisted of "Tesco"s eggs mayonnaise and salami, on the steps of the locked office block's doorway (sort of a late "business lunch". Just another “night on the tiles” conducted under the slogan “Girls’ power!!!” A mere description of “Ladies’ pub session”, heavy on gossip and light on alcohol. But two significant encounters changed my mind as to the subject of this entry and made me write, what you might be reading now. On my way home from the pub last night I saw a girl on the train, whose appearance would impact the imagination of a person even less impressionable and cynical, than I am. She was tall and slender, with the coffee-coloured skin of a mulatto, delicate European features, thick sensual Negro lips and striking blue eyes of the Norway fjord’s water. Her head was completely bold, shaved to the perfect smoothness of a snooker ball, save for the little wisp of plated hair above the forehead, decorated with tiny purple silk bow. The outfit of this remarkable lady deserves the entry of its’ own right, but I simply satisfy myself with stating her style, as “colourful goth” , if there ever was such a thing: fuchsia-pink yeti boots, long, flowing purple/yellow/turquoise column of a dress, fake fur pink/yellow/black fluffy coat and spiky pink shoulder bag. With her small-boned face, slightly aquiline nose, contrasting shades of skin and eyes, with her traffic-stopping hues of clothing, on the screeching and swinging contraption of the train, she looked quite out of place, like a bird of Paradise, trapped amongst grey and dull sparrows, represented by us, ordinary passengers, around her. I couldn’t help my eyes being drawn to this creature from another planet, from different Universe altogether, and noticed, that it wasn’t just me, she had this effect upon: the whole carriage centred their attention on the girl, pretending, that they were not looking and, that for THEM, it’s an every day occurrence to meet such an extraordinary beauty, offset by such an arresting sense of style.
The second “fatal” meeting took place this morning, on the Underground (again) and, even though, it's engaged my full attention for the space of not more, than 5 seconds, but directed my thoughts in a very specific way afterwards. I was getting off the train at “Bank” station, and walking alongside the platform towards “DLR” exit, when I saw a girl, sitting on the bench and attending to her “morning make-up” appliance. So engrossed and absorbed she was in her task, so completely removed from the crowd of Saturday travellers around her, so entirely natural and unembarrassed in her occupation, that, again, I couldn’t but “stumble” and delay my purposeful busy stride for nanosecond to have a better look at such a “marvel” of ingenuity. It promptly brought back the memories from my teenage years, spent buying my first make-up items with my lunch money, hiding them from my parents(my father, mostly), painting my face in our building block lobby before going to school, with the aid of tiny compact mirror, and wiping it away before returning home. Well, as “natural beauty” goes, I wasn’t overblessed in this department, and, therefore, never leave the house without certain amount of work done on my face beforehand. But NEVER,EVER in the public eye. It must've stemmed from those bygone years, my sense of guilt, with which I am "decorating the truth", daily, in front of the bathroom mirror, still fearing my dad's beady eye and his hatred of my attempts at any improvements of the Nature's shortcomings, regarding my looks.
Such confidence and self-assurance, as the girl on the bench possessed, requires also lots of inner poise and equal amounts of arrogance and indifference of other people's judgement. Enviable qualities, which I might greatly benefit from and never tire of working on accumulating.
And for some reason, while I was passing this little scene of “non of your damn business, mind your own” exercise, the words “You are beautiful, no matter, what you are. Words can’t bring you down…” started sounding in my head, bringing back the events of the night before. And with it the faces of the four such different women, gathered together at the table of one of the Central London’s pubs, namely the “Brew master”. (Have to say, their brew of “Guinness and blackcurrant” deserves top marks any time of any day. Not too overdone on the fruitiness and sweetness of the berry. Just enough to compliment the richness and smoothness of the beer and keep its’ characteristical taste and richness in.)
Sitting at the table I couldn’t help, but marvel at how different we all looked, and yet, how similar we were in our beauty and individuality: raven haired Masha (aka DireHtor), with her Oriental orchid-like prettiness and long, streamline body, belonging on the cat-walk; Olya (Vindetta), small, warm, femininely curvy, dimply-smiley, creamy complexioned, with the most beautiful eyes of china-blue; unexpected, but pleasant addition to our power meeting, Olya’s friend Esther, the girl of rare and delicate appearance, exquisite bone structure , features of one of the Renaissance Madonnas , with the kind of a body any of us would kill to have: aristocratically elongated, willowy, graceful, and, which, unfortunately is given by the spiteful Mother Nature to one in a thousand. And last, but not least, myself---powerfully built, athletic, strong-featured, tawny skinned, copper-haired, hazel-eyed red head, sitting back in one of my "Woman of the World" moods (not sure, which one this time, for I've got several, ranging from indulgently benign to sharpen-clawed, murderingly sarcastic); listening, observing, making mental notes, and, every now and then dropping my "tuppense worth" of remark into the conversation. I was not jealous in the slightest of the others’ fortunes in the beauty’s stakes. I was happy with myself and contended in the knowlege, that with all our differences, as a group, we confirmed an old wisdom, that “beauty is all around us, coming in multitude of forms, shapes and sizes,” and they, who’s got the eyes, will see it.

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[Запись для всех] 16-12-2005 08:05
Eleven Days Till Christmas . And All's Well
December, as we noted last year and the year before that, spins us in
circles, leaving us dizzy and out of shape. It comes on like one of those wild Gulf hurricanes with a pretty name, Jasmine or Collette. You hear the rumble and see the distant wind approaching as objects fly from a dark ominous sky. You hasten to prepare but it’s too late; you’re swirling amid debris and out of control.

Somehow, against promises, commitments and carefully laid plans, you are, once again, lost and confused among bright lights, lost causes and an ever-growing frazzled mob. You are on a treadmill that bears no resemblance to the one at the gym, that dreadful contraption you mock yet would die for at this delirious moment. Ah, the privacy and wisdom of a humming treadmill.

One more gift, another party, a little more holiday refreshment and,
hopefully, one last trip to the ATM. No time to eat; I’ll have a cookie, one shaped like Santa, and an eggnog. The mall’s parking lot is full tonight, but it won’t be tomorrow at the crack of dawn.
Clever plan...

Good morning, World, I’m here to shop.

More like, stop the world, I wanna get off.

Life’s a rascal. We’ve gotta corner the restless creature and make him sit for a spell. But, then, he who sits grows mold in the most peculiar places. Where are you at this precarious juncture in time, space and reckoning? Whatever you do, don’t submit to the year-end chaos. Keep your head (White Rabbit -- Jefferson Airplane, 1974). Don’t compromise your values (discipline and order) or your valuables (muscle and might).

December comes and goes like lightening; don’t flash across the sky with your backside on fire.

You can still salvage the month, the remaining 18 days, should you have faltered thus far. Get a workout before nightfall; accept that you won’t make vast musclebuilding gains in the next 30 days; go with the flow of the season while clutching discipline and clinging to order. The world around you cannot be tamed, but you need not be subject to it.
Let the busybodies buzz busily. Busy is good -- burns calories, is often a positive distraction, adds to the economy, gets the job done and stuff like that. Busy bees make lots of honey. Find contentment in your appreciation and understanding of them and your unique separation from them.

During the vital "before nightfall" workout, expect little more than a gratifying pump with an eye on training efficiency and delight. This is not the time to set records or achieve maximum muscular exertion. You’re before the iron; isn’t that enough? Embrace the oneness of the moment.
Observe your surroundings and be grateful for the 60 minutes to wallow in the good fight, engage the muscles, stimulate your mind and body and visit your soul, if only briefly.

You’ve gotta visit your soul, your center, your spirit at least once a day lest it shrivel and die. And while you’re visiting, make a promise to visit again in a day or two... and to watch what you eat, for goodness sake.

Shopping, if it can’t be accomplished online, should be done with good humor, efficiency and high hopes. Courage and decisiveness and a pocket full of cash often help, though the latter is one of those mystery items hidden from me over the years.

Huh! Come to think of it, decision making is another elusive possession missing from my sparse collection of important things. I also lack courage -- courage and hopefulness. What a mess! Gee.

Nevermind that. This is not about me. It’s about you. Be positive, bombers.

Make a list, be strong, go and buy. Do not eat junk available in amazing abundance and colorful variety at every turn in the merry mall and along the cheery boulevards. Remember your promise, the Christmas Promise: Watch what you eat, which was prefaced by the other promise: Train again in a day or two. Look sharp! Straighten up!

I feel like I’m sitting at a chess board moving the pawns back and forth without a plan to advance or take control. I don’t want you to drop the ball, or the barbells, as the case may be, during this precious yet hectic month of the year. You relate and perform so much better in the world of people, places and things when you work out regularly. You know, "Ho Ho Ho, Merry Christmas everybody," not "Get outta my way before I belt ya one." And your health and fitness remain vibrant and sharp. Zoom zoom,lean machine! No gut on that Santa and his reindeer.

What can I say to lure you, beckon and coax you, inspire you -- ensure you will apply yourself to the art and responsibility of training through the frantic weeks ahead? "What if you don’t?" is a good line -- works on anyone with the merest of imaginations. "You’ll be sorry" is about as adult as the talking Mommy Barbie doll. You wanna grab the squealing source by the neck and give it a quick twist. See what happens when you miss a few workouts? Keep your hands in your pockets until you can wrap
them around a pair of 45-pound dumbbells and start counting reps.

Remember this: A training gap appears like a loose thread at the end of a garment. The thread is barely visible at first and if left unattended, unmended, it inevitably gets hooked on this and snagged on that. In a short time the tattered thread extends its work to the entire garment and your pants fall off while your fiancee introduces you to her mom and dad at the family Christmas party. "Oh, my, what skinny legs you have, dear lad. Have you ever considered weight training?"

You can spend next January trying to catch up to last November. Oh, I just got a shot of indescribable pain through my entire body... like the moment you hit a pile of rocks after freefalling 90 feet, or stick your wet nose in an electric outlet or drop a 65-pound dumbbell onto you bare toes from an overhead triceps extension... training next year to make up for this year... horrors.

Tell me the truth. Did you look down to see if your pants were still on? I did. What a relief. Look: You’re safe for now. It’s only the middle of the month. The destruction has not yet occurred. Take a deep breath and thank the starry hosts and sunny heavens above. Hitting regular training sessions from now on will be a thrill. And about eating right -- tuna and water sound like dessert.

This is what I’m going to do between now and, say, January 5th. I’m
maintaining my bodyweight plus or minus three pounds by eating as I always do, but with a 10- or 11-percent margin for error -- Holiday Leeway. I shall allow the three-hours-between-meals rule to slacken according to good instincts or common sense and joy of the season. I shall occasionally eat something that is neither protein nor a living vegetable or fruit -- something almost sugary. I shall train to 80-percent output and be content. It’s hard writing this stuff down. I’m sweating and twitching. I shall allow myself to miss one out of four... no... one out of five workouts without sending myself to my room without TV. I shall lighten up, loosen up... I shall be set free.

I shall, accompanied by the brave and the bold, fly higher and farther and faster from here to next year... There’s no stopping us now.

God’s speed... Dave Draper

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[Запись для всех] 15-12-2005 07:17
A haiku a day...

keeps Alzheimer's away.




Unexpected and sweet
Trill of bird in the dark.
And feeling of Spring...


And a little bit more about Alzheimer’s.


“Glucose (blood sugar) is the most important fuel for the brain and nervous system. The brain can also use ketones for fuel—--chemicals, formed from the incomplete breakdown of fats. People, consuming diets high in fat and protein and low in carbohydrates, produce plenty of ketones, which give your breath slightly acetone odour. Scientists are finding, that increasing blood ketones by restricting carbohydrates, may help patients with Alzheimer’s disease; disease of mitochondria (power house of the cells) and degenerative nerve diseases. Alzheimer’s disease is a degenerative brain and nervous system disease, which strikes primarily older adults, that is linked to the accumulation of chemicals, called amyloid-beta (AB) in the brain. British scientists found a 25 percent decrease in AB in rats, fed a low-carbohydrate diet, that resulted in high ketone levels. The scientists haven’t noticed any behavioural changes in animals. The cause of Alzheimer’s is not understood, but you can reduce your risk of disease by eating fewer foods, high in saturated fats or sugars.”

(Nutrition and Metabolism, Oct. 17, 2005; published online)

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[Запись для всех] 13-12-2005 15:43
Show must go on.
Well, well, well…Second day at work. The week holiday is already as far away, as it could be, not even a distant memory, but a vague and improbable dream, that never happened: all this sitting around the house, listening to the sound of silence, doing nothing, going to the garden, looking up, watching the clouds swim in the vast empty faded winter skies and not minding in the least about the noiseless death of endless minutes, dropping down at my feet.
It was lovely, until it lasted and I enjoyed it enormously. Had no usual feeling of guilt about being lazy and no anxiety about having some “ME” time. Most of us, while getting a chance of a rest, we’ve dreamt of forever, spend this precious gift of leisure, being flooded with unfamiliar sensation of empty-handedness, of twitchy and itchy desire to keep running the “hamster wheel” race. Or, worse, start penalizing ourselves for daring to allow a little freedom and self-indulgence by performing all the horrid tasks we never have time or will to accomplish during our “working” time. It is very typical for a womankind, this guilt and self-denial and punishment for the crime of a “free” time. For most of us, it’s akin to hitting a stone wall, while traveling in a car at a high speed. Everything around suddenly stops moving,then, bit by bit, the reality very slowly reasserts itself, and, strangest of all things, the world keep going round, revolving at its customary speed, without you. It is slightly uncomfortable at first, this feeling of detachment, of not belonging, of being left aside, of missing out on something. But, in all honesty, there is NOTHING the world outside could offer you, that could be better, than this rare opportunity to “sit on the bank and watch the river flow”. All your worries will disappear, all the trouble will settle down, all the problems will sort themselves out, all the difficult questions will come up with the answers on their own, and even though it is for a short while, you will become yourself again. Not the perpetually busy, tired and irritable businesswoman, harassed and haggard wife and mother. NO. The REALL you of nineteen years old, on the fine sunny summer morning: free as a wind, and as cheerful, as a lark.
The truth is, most of us are either not used to being “duty free”, or don’t know, how to use our spare time to get the most out of it; or were never taught the art of leisure. I used to be just the same, never stepping back, never letting go of all the stuff, clattering and littering my head and my life, always leaving “spiritual feng-shui” for “AFTER”, for “when I am less busy”, for “tomorrow”, not realizing, that I OWE it to myself, this “nothing planned, nothing scheduled, nothing “on” time; and that this “TOMORROW”, I keep postponing all the fun for, might never ever come. I am a lot wiser now, a lot more “ME” orientated and without actually being ridden by guilt and beseeched by doubts of the legitimacy of my “wasting time in such an unproductive way”.
I know, that sooner or later I will get fed up with doing nothing, twiddling my thumbs and slobbing around and, refreshed and invigorated, arise, just like Phoenix from the ashes (well, this is my impartiality to flourish metaphors showing again), and it will be BACK TO BUSINESS. AS USUAL.

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[Запись для всех] 11-12-2005 08:55
Oh, ye're of a little faith.
As leather clad, tight jeans-bummed, spur heeled tapping George Michael put it : ”You’ve gotta have faith”. Well, Georgy, I wish you were right here, but, as birthdays always put me in a reflective, contemplative if somewhat pensive mood, for a few days after the “B” event, I lose whatever little faith and optimism I may have and turn into bitter cynical pessimist. With each advanced year birthdays take away more, then they bring: “fresh eye” approach to life and a “wow” factor, unsatiable curiosity and unabated enthusiasm are gradually replaced by disbelief, self-doubt, misanthropy, sarcasm and scepticism. It will go in a day or two, this gloomy state of mind, brought on, most probably, by the bout of heavy cold, I am fighting now. And with my holiday nearly over, and the working week due to begin tomorrow, and the good ol’ routine of busy and orderly life being resumed, everything will be as right, as rain again.
But putting away my birthday presents, breaking and folding the cardboard boxes, trimming the flowers and changing water in vases, my thoughts couldn’t help echoing those of the great one, obsessed with physical beauty, style, glamour and appearance in the way only women and gay men could be obsessed by all this, the sentiment of the One and Only, the Unique and Unparalleled, Oscar Wild: ”There is NO man rich enough to buy back his youth.”

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[Запись для всех] 08-12-2005 09:31
Timeo Danaeos...
I don’t believe, that there is anyone on earth, young or old, rich or poor, who doesn’t love presents. You may not be as extreme as late Barbara Skelton, whose sometime diary entry---“My birthday. Insufficient fuss made”---rings so achingly true for more, than a few of us, but that doesn’t mean, that the unnatural view of presents—as—ordeal is gaining ground. In my experience, people who say, “No, I honestly don’t want anything for my birthday, are a) falsely modest, b) nauseatingly holier-than-thou and c) letting you know in the coarsest manner imaginable, that they certainly won’t be remembering your birthday. Or---minute likelihood, but I suppose possible---so rich, that there is genuinely nothing, that they want. Even so, though, it’s awful to be so rich, that you are jaded. Even the grotesquely rich people should be able to appreciate a little bunch of perfect violets, or some chocolate—dipped apricots, or breakfast in bed, made for you by your nearest and dearest, and if they can’t , then there is nothing sadder, than rich spoilt brat with no joy of life.
Who on earth would genuinely want to wake up on their birthday morning bloomless, cardless, presentless? You would slash your wrists, surely? And yet, people don’t really understand this most fundamental human truth, and ignore or “forget” people’s birthdays, because they are too lazy to buy a bunch of daffs and stick a stamp on a card. We all want to be loved, and if we can’t be loved, with some fanfair, on our birthdays, then really, what hope is there? And don’t be fobbed off with the old “But you’re so special to me, that it’s your birthday every day, my love” trick. Bollocks to that. It’s not your birthday every day---it’s your birthday once a year, and trumpets need to sound, metaphorically at least.
If they don’t, “Insufficient fuss made” is about the measure of it: one’s disappointment needs to be made public and culprits educated. Sometimes, it’s really isn’t their fault. If you were brought up in the house where, on a good year, your birthday present was a box of chocolates, then obviously you may be likely to think that This Will Do. If you fall into this category, let me ask you---did it feel good to receive one box of “Black Magic” on your thirteen’s birthday? No, it did not. So don’t do it to anybody else. Don’t pass on the misery on the “if it was good enough for me” basis.
This is not, in any sense, meant to imply, that sufficient fuss equals diamond necklaces. The whole point of, and brilliance of, thoughtful presents is that you absolutely don’t need to spend a fortune. I am deeply suspicious of very expensive presents anyway, because I think they are often thoughtless: someone’s just phoned Tiffany’s and given them a top-limit figure and a credit card number. Some people may not care, as long, as they get the rocks, but I do. I think it’s sad and awful. Having said that, obviously not ALL monumentally expensive presents stem from this lame attitude, and some, of course, are worth dancing a jig of joy for. You can tell which fall into which category by the giver.
I don’t care much for “ice” ,to tell the whole truth. All I want is to be understood by the people I consider my friends and family. But it seem to me, that I will have to wait forever, till it actually happens. And, quite frankly, I’ve no time, nor patience for that. This is why four or five years ago I started TELLING people what I want, as a birthday present. Sad? Practical? Unromantic? I know. But I’d rather get something I desire this way, then sit around and wait for eternity for my surprise gift to materialise, or for the my “dearly beloved” to take a lucky guess and, finally, get it right---and give me just ONE, if not ALL of my favourite things. I am not even puzzled and baffled any more by the fact, which used to be the source of constant and unsolvable mystery to me---how come I always take time and put thoughts into buying presents for my friends and family, listening carefully to conversations, steering them into the “birthdays” directions, dropping hints and suggestions, and on the persons’ big "B" day ALWAYS get them what they want. And how come NOBODY out of my circle of so called “close friends” ever done the same to me? This is why, I've eventually, given up and now exchanged my jittery anticipation and high expectations for safe and boring ceremony of planned “Ta-daaaa!!!” party. Fear of disappointment, I guess,or call it even a phobia, but there you go.

And if anybody ask me, what my idea of a perfect birthday present would be, I would answer in the words of late Bob Hope, American comedian. Fair enough, it was not the question about birthday, he was answering. It was to his wife’ query about his funeral arrangements (what exactly he would like to have), that he said: ”SURPISE ME!!!”


PS. To ALL the girls, who said "Happy Birthday" to me, namely




DireHtor, Musya, Kukla, Rediska, SweetiePie


Thank you very much, guys!!! You are REAL not just VIRTUAL friends.

PPS.Have got two more friends to thank. Cheers, ladies!!!

Katya (Zhutik), 111Sophie111


And to two more lovely ladies Lyasya (kisroka) and Rura , thank you, very much for good timing and for the good wishes, thrown my way. Cake was OK. NOT baked by either of my two men. They are trained, but not THAT well. From the shop. Big, fat, seekly sweet chocolate cake. Half-an-hour after finishing it I ate the whole bunch of NICE, GREEN, FRESH CELERY STICKS.
Surprised? Shocked? Disgusted even? Well, you should know me by now. THIS is MY kinda food.
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[Запись для всех] 06-12-2005 10:38
LORRA FRONT.
Of course, if we are speaking metaphorically, I do have a LOT OF FRONT. I am UP FRONT, over the top and right into your face, if the situation requires. And not exactly what you would call meek, modest and subdued in any other circumstances.
Speaking literary though, we are looking at a slightly different story. I haven’t got all THAT much in the FRONT department. When you start pumping iron, and I mean SERIOUSLY pumping, first thing to go are your boobs. And with my mileage, or rather poundage (or should it be a “tonnage”?), of weight lifting, shifting and pulling behind me, or over me or underneath me, or… oh, whatever, two thirds of life spent under the barbell anyway, the results are not really “carrying abreast”. More of what you might want to call “PAIRSHAPED”. Don’t get me wrong, they are still a lovely pair. Just on the smaller side. On the PLUS side though, I’ve never had a problem with finding a good bra or needing one, actually. I wear sports ones most of the time—stretchy, elastic things, of the crop top variety. The supportive layer of the chest muscles under the breast glands take care of the ” gravity taking its’ tall, everything start facing south” situation. All my two little beauties have to do is sit TIGHT on the TOP, sticking out and looking PINKY and PERKY.
All this flashed in my mind on Saturday morning, in one of our Market’s clothing shops on my way to the Post Office to send a few Christmas and birthday cards. I just happened to set my eyes on the most unusual and therefore simply “must have” top I’ve ever seen. Would be casting my mind around for the words, describing its’ colour. One of the shades of pink. On the paler side. I would even call it “faded”. The hue of the diluted mulberry wine in a glass held against the fire on the bleak, chilly winter morning. It’s a finely knitted jersey with the long sleeves and high “turtle neck” collar. The sleeves and the body of the top are made of thin, stretchy, glittery mesh with leaves and flowers embroidered on it. The front of the sweater has a lining under it, so you’ve got your back almost bare but for the flowery, sparkly pattern, covering it. And because the colour is so pale and delicate, it warms up the skin and makes your body look beautifully fragile and irresistibly vulnerable. “It‘s alive and expressive”—that was what I thinking, while taking little “quarter turns to the right” in front of the bedroom mirror. Perfect item for our Latino dancing outing. And who knows, with a few drinks, sexy salsa moves, passionate music and lots of hot, dark and good looking men around, I might blow of my TOP, decide to start “Living La Vida Loca” and wear the sweater BACK to FRONT.
I think, everything about my, er…, pecks, written above, is enough to BACK up such a crazy idea. Is it not? Oh, who cares?
IF YOU’VE GOT IT ---- FLAUNT IT!!!

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[Запись для всех] 04-12-2005 15:15
The Winter Tale (NOT by Shakespear).
Once upon a time, when I was a little girl, my mum gave me a magical book for one of my birthdays. Book, which had all the right ingredients to make a child’s imagination work and to fill their heads with dreams and fantasies: Netherlands, frozen water canals, wooden clogs, poverty, friendship, suffering and sacrifies, love and happy ending. The book was called “Silver skates”. The actual events and the story line are now very vague in my memories, but I remember very vividly the effect it had on me at the time and a short obsession with skating it born---two or three winters on the row were spent skating almost every day on our Stadium’s skating rink under my parents supervision. And since I always had a strong will, certain leadership tendencies and appropriate amount of power of persuasion, two thirds of my class mates accompanied me in this slippery, “icy” outings.
Judging by the Thursday’s, 01/12/05, events not much changed since. All “leader of the pack” qualities, listed above, are still present and in good working order, as I am still able to drag people into whatever venture or avanture I, myself, am embarking into.
To be fair though, have to admit, it failed spectacularly on the members of my family: Sashka , agreeing to come with me initially, had to work till late on the very night of the planned(and paid for!) event. And my “little one” flatly refused to go, referring to the activity as “I-S-I-L-L-Y entertainment”.
And so it was down to me and three of my female friends to open the winter season by braving the frozen stretch of the ice skating rink under the foot of Tower of London. Girls night out. In the depth of Central London, in the historical place, in the neighbourhood of one of the most famous buildings in the world AND in the midst of, hopefully, glamorous and sophisticated crowd of fellow ice skaters. What could be better? Well, a few things, actually, might do with a bit of improvement. The weather, for starters, left a lot to be desired for: it was mild, true enough. But is it a right condition for the winter sport? Do you really want it warm, when you are out skating? I don’t think so. The perfect weather for me would be a bright, clear, cold and crispy day to make the exercise a proper fun and joy. And what did we have on the day? The exact opposite---mild, grey, cloudy, windy weather with constant outbreaks of wintry showers.
The other downside was Masha’s and mine “public convenience adventure”. First, the toilets were too far away from the Tower, and by the time I found their location, my bladder was full and about to burst(sorry for such an intimate detail. Oh, and I’ve got another one for ya. My bladder is one of the things in my body I would change, given the chance. It keeps overflowing with the regularity of an inefficient water tank and urges me to rush to a loo every 40 or so minutes). But the Wicked Witch Nigerian toilet cleaner wouldn’t give two monkeys for my suffering and aggressively removed me from the cubicle( with my trousers and knickers around my ankles and almost mid-flow), by banging on the door with her mop and screaming abuse. The customers were not allowed to use already cleaned toilets and were forced into three remaining filthy ones. After dancing and hopping from foot to foot in front of the locked doors for what seemed, like an eternity, I, finally attended to my need and run back to the rink, upset, blind with shock and, as a consequence, bumping into Masha and her two sisters on the steps, leading to the ice-rink.
My poor friend’s toilet experience was even worse, than mine. Not grateful in the least to be in the presence of one of the “Harbor”s DireHtors’ Board members and not caring in the slightest for the “mess on the floor” accident about to happen, this mean black creature shooed our celebrity out of the “Ladies” in fruitless search of paid for facilities. And after Masha’s return and brave, desperate AND successful attempt to use the “Men’s” loo, the Nasty One called the security and chased my friend outside, all the time swearing and brandishing her tried and tested weapon—the mop. It wouldn’t surprise me, I thought, while recounting all this afterwards, if the Black Fury would saddle her broom and flew above the Tower, sending thunderbolts and lightning on to the unsuspecting heads of her enemies. It’s a very likely occurrence, if you consider the location we were at. The Tower of London—place, where so many people were imprisoned, murdered and executed; where every wall is a witness to their long perish, silent tears, powerless suffering; where every stone still remembers the cold-hearted deceit and treachery as well as blood curling torture and killing.
But even with all the Evil spirits of the Tower still at work and all the satanic magic and diabolical witchcraft in full force behind her, little did the Black Witch realize, that where the fights and rows are concerned, inch for inch of courage, pound for pound of sell assertiveness, blow for blow of expletives, Nigerians, with all their rudeness and boldness, were NEVER the true match to Russians(and NEVER will be), and whatever filth she got thrown at her, my gutsy friend returned right back ten thousand fold and more. Masha, my dear wronged girl, I applaud you for that!!!
Upset and stressed out by the course of our "night out" in so far, we were nevertheless determined to enjoy ourselves the best we could. On the top of it all, my mental and physical strengths were completely exhausted by a very hard week: training every day from last week’s Saturday, two early rises—at 4:30 am, two nights with less, than 5 hours sleep; two 20km walks: 3 classes on Thursday, before coming to our skating session. By the time we came out from the pavilion, kited out in skates, I felt, that the adrenalin I was running on, has become a mere trickle in my blood, rather than the strong current, and the drastic measures were required to keep me from sitting down on the ice in the middle of the merry crowd and nodding off.
To stop myself from becoming a pubic ridicule I had to bring out the best of my minxy nature and started flirting with some of the more eligible male skaters. “Outrageously, embarrassingly and shamefacedly”, as Masha put it after. It did, however, paid off, as men aren't that much attuned to the subtleties and nuances of flattery, as women are; and, as my experience shows ( with the men, at least), it WILL get you everywhere. As the object of my "harassment", a good looking, if somewhat shy, gentleman expressed it: ” You could never get TOO MUCH female attention”. So pleased and happy he was with it, that at the end of the skating session I found the poor sod dropping down at my feet, if not exactly seeking my hand in marriage, then asking for it in help to get up from the supine position, he suddenly found himself in.
Don’t get me wrong, I was merely tried to BREAK THE ICE. And what is a better way of accomplishing this little trick, than cunningly dropping a men right on it?
As the title of my essay suggests, it meant to be a fairy tale night, this little wintry party of ours. Well, it had the right mixture of all the magical elements: the stunning setting, with the magnificent backdrop of the Tower. The whole set up of the ice rink, flooded with the spooky, eerie lime-green light was like something out of the “Harry Potter” or “Lord of the Rings” movies' scene. Unfortunately, no hobbits, dangling their big, hairy feet from the medieval Tower walls, no game of "Quiditch", played above our heads in the night sky, did materialise.
But to make up for the absence of the fictional characters we had four real life Ice-Maidens, the Black Wicked Witch and Deathly Dragon's Den(bear it in mind next time you are using a public loo!!!) and the Knight in shiny armour kneeling down in front of the Fair Lady.

And, in my opinion, since the theme of the evening could be defined as “GIRLS JUST WANNA HAVE FUN”, this was exactly, what we had.

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[Запись для всех] 01-12-2005 09:32
You can't be too careful?
Tried to open my beloved bodybuilding site “Ironage.us” this morning and failed spectacularly. A little window popped up on the screen with the message “Access denied.” Due to contents of the site classified, under the company’s Internet Policy, as “nudity”. It’s too much, apparently, for the vigilant and hypocritical “Lloyds” modesty zealots to BEAR the sight of the muscular men in tiny posing trunks (and the pun WAS intended). Or is it insecurity and jealousy, pure and simple? Or downright stupidity and ignorance? Or, and this one is the most likely, bloody POLITICAL CORRECTNESS, taken one step too far?
People are so scared nowadays of being accused of “racism”, “sexism”, “chauvinism”, “nationalism,” etc., that they start loosing sense of proportion and, what’s more important (and scary), sense of humour.
A piece in yesterday’s “Metro” about Metropolitan Police rejecting white applicants for the fear of being branded “segregationists” and “racists”, didn’t come as a complete surprise to me. Life simply starts copying jokes and anecdotes, twisting and exaggerating them to the point of complete and utter absurd.
If this is the way things keep going, soon we will be REALLY forced to refer to, say, “brown bread”, as an “ethnical loaf,” and saying words “dark chocolate” would be considered punishable offence.
It’s all reminds me of a cartoon I’ve seen once in a newspaper or magazine somewhere. A man and a woman are in bed. Naked. Ready for sex. Protected sex, has to be said. Wearing condoms on every orifice of their bodies: heads, ears, noses, lips, hands, feet, the obvious part of man’s anatomy. The woman has two condoms pulled on her boobs and one—over her genitalia, tied around with a ribbon, made in a little coquettish bow on the front.
Thus prepared for ANY eventuality of the intercourse, they sit in bed, looking at each other, and the woman has a babble, coming out of her head with the words: ”And I am still not TOO sure !!!”

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[Запись для всех] 29-11-2005 14:57
It's all in your head.
"Feeling fat or thin is an illusion, created by the brain. Using a mind trick, called the “Pinocchio illusion”, scientists scanned volunteers’ brains, while they experienced the sensation, that their waists were shrinking.
They found people frequently over- or under-estimated their body size. Volunteers, who placed their hands on their waists were able to feel their wrists seemingly bending into their bodies.
University College of London scientists say the results give clues about why people suffer from anorexia."


"METRO". Tue. Nov. 29th 05.
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[Запись для всех] 28-11-2005 16:51
You are what you eat.
True or false—"ALL the food you eat is going to waste"? Well, if I would have this question in my “Nutrition/weight management" test I would’ve definitely said ”False“, as your body absorbs certain amount of food after breaking it down to micro-nutrients and uses it for build-up, maintenance and repair. Or deposits it for any emergencies to come, and stores it for a rainy day. But last night has overruled pretty much everything I was taught about nutrition, digestion and waste evacuation. Whatever it was, that I ate, disagreed with me and was rejected by my system, loudly and protestingly. And whatever it was, that caused this embarrassing problem, made my body indignantly turn EVERYTHING entering it into waste almost immediately after consumption. Needless to say—I had a very busy night and for the want of anything better to do (apart from the obvious) tried to see funny side of the situation and to draw some philosophical conclusions out of it as well.
“Serves you right”, -I thought. “You can’t have heavy, stodgy meal at dinner and get away with it. If you stuff your face—you will pay for it. Whichever way---either by spending night on the toilet seat or by putting the weight on and getting fat and flabby.” Fair enough, in my case it was a one-off. An allowed indulgence, a planned “carb-loading” day. Turning wrong, admittedly, but still…
But there are crowds and crowds of people out there, who keep making the same mistake of wanting things, which contradict each other; things, mutually illiminating; non-compatible things. And I am not necessarily talking about food. Wouldn’t it be simply beautiful, if our job and hobby were one and the same thing ? And the words “work” and “pleasure” were synonyms? And is it not true we all imagine our “love” and “marriage” to be a part of one another? And how often does it happens? And last? And how many women want to have babies and stay as slim, as they used to in their pre-children days? I always thought THIS one the silliest thing EVER. You live your life, you change your ideas about it, your views, your tastes, why not the body? Look at the trees. With each year they add up a ring to their trunks. Does it make them less beautiful? Do we expect a silver-birch tree have the same “waste” circumference year after year after year? Same with humans. Why would you want to keep your teen weight, forms and vital statistics? Nobody said you have to give up and become fat and die happily obese in front of the telly. Keep working out, exercise, and you will stay fit and trim. This, however, where another contradiction is lurking. Exercising? For most people I’ve met it is just “TOO HARD”, apparently. Yes, they would like a nice toned body, but NOT by the price of sweating their guts out on the treadmill. Yes it would be infinitely preferable to have a “six-pack” and a peaked biceps, rather than beer belly and “bingo-wings”, but could it be done in an easier, less painful, more enjoyable way? Afraid not, my dear crafty friends. Exercises are sometimes pain in the butt, but if you want the results, you will see sense and do them. That’s the short and the long of it. AND you will have to eat right. Right food, right amount, right combinations. There is no escaping the truth again—one of the various reasons of joining the gym (and it’s a very popular one amongst the females) is to be able to eat as much, as they want and to get away with it. To all my disillusioned and confused sisters out there---it’s never going to work!!! You WILL gain weight, you WILL put it on, you WILL become if not exactly “fat”, but “stocky” and “square”. No beating about the bush, no two ways about it---have seen it happen once too often.
The conclusion of my night-time toilet philosophy—prioritise. Out of the two or more things you think you want the most---choose ONE. And choose wisely. Think long-term. Don’t get tempted by your “urgent needs” and “burning yearnings”. Don’t get seduced by an imaginary benefits and awards. That chocolate cake you think you desire, might look nice and smell and taste delicious, but five minutes after eating it aren’t you going to regret this action, wouldn’t it leave sickly-sweet, nasty aftertaste in your mouth for hours, and as for insulin spike in your blood, giving you’re an immediate energy release and then throwing you into a sleepy sluggish stupor…
Is it what you REALLY want? I don’t think so. You better make sure once and for all, that the old wisdom is still THE wisdom and it's YOURS:

You CAN'T have your cake AND eat it!!!



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[Запись для всех] 27-11-2005 16:49
Iron on my mind.
On my way to the supermarket today very unwisely turned the car’s radio on. It’s always tuned on “Magic FM”—mellow classical tunes, golden oldies from 70’s and 80’s. Disappointingly though, got my ears assaulted with a barrage of depressing, grim and gloomy account of latest happenings—in the world in general and in England in particular. Murders, child abuse, rape, bullying in the Royal Navy---the list could go on and on and on… Thankfully, it only takes 5 minutes to drive to our local “Tesco” and all this events are so much commonplace nowadays, jumping at one from the newspapers’ pages, television screens and Internet web sites, that I habitually switched my hearing off and kept my eyes on the road and my mind on the most urgent and important matter-food shopping.
This activity did not, however, restore my faith in the humankind, but directed my thoughts onto the old well-worn track---how pathetic, greedy and sometimes stupid people are, when it’s come to buying food, and how unwise and unappetising(well, for me, anyway) most of their choices and preferences are. All the shopping trolleys around me were packed to the brims with six or twelve packs of beers, gallons of fizzy drinks, family-sized bags of sweets and crisps, equally big chocolate bars, packets and packets of frozen ready-made meals, trays of TV dinners and boxes of supermarket’s own take away meals. “Whatever happened to good old home cooking?”—I asked myself for the umpteenth time, resting my eyes on my own pleasingly clean and “stylish” shopping. Nothing packaged or processed, nothing ready-made, nothing “fast” or convenient. Various meats,fish, eggs, veggies, extra-virgin olive oil, green tea and red wine. “No wonder,---I kept on thinking, while piling everything on the conveyer belt,--- the kids are having tantrums and teenagers bullying each others at school, high on E-numbers and packed to the eye balls full of sugar, no wonder, they grow-up with a firm believe, that “food comes from a packet”; no wonder, they don’t know, what “healthy choice” means and it’s a small wonder, some of them actually aware of the fact, that a “family dinner” does not necessarily consists of the “fish and chips” from a nearest take away shop in front of the telly.
To avoid this usual, but nevertheless depressing train of thoughts and not to spoil my only day off any further, I escaped to the one place, where the life becomes normal again, all my efforts seem worthwhile and pay off and the mankind doesn’t look, like a bunch of psychotic parasites, occupying this beautiful planet for no particular reason at all. The place, where all my worries and anxieties disappear, once I put my foot over its threshold and take a lungful of air, smelling of sweat, leather, chicken, coffee and, dominating it all---the smell of cold, heavy iron. What a heady mixture!
The gym. Place, where I am amongst my own kind, where I fill, that I belong and will be accepted always. It’s calming and gratifying just standing here, leaning against the counter, talking to the guy behind it, leafing through the latest fitness magazines, hearing the sounds of heavy plates being slid on to the barbells and feeling the floor beneath your feet vibrating from somebody’s dumbbells being dropped on it after the last, forced rep.
Legs workout today. The body part I love training and don’t need any encouragement or help with, whatever the exercise: squats, "Hack", lunges or dead lifts. All starts making sense, hands come into contact with cool metal, mind concentrates and connects with the body. My world is in perfect harmony again. Life’s worth living after all.
Warm-up sets. Two or three. Sip of water. Stick another plate onto the barbell. Take a deep breath. “Bloody heavy. Go!” Legs shaking, knees buckling, breath coming in and out in deep shuddering gulps. Another twenty on each end. Hundred kilos now. Some more water. Focus on the great bulk of the weight on your shoulders, compressing your spine and making it a struggle even standing upright, not mentioning two steps back away from the rack AND the squats themselves. “Will you spot me?” It’s more mental, then physical, this spotting is. It’s all in your head---all you "can’s" and "can’ts", "do’s" and "don’ts". And when somebody you trust is standing behind you, watching you intently, ready to step in, attuned to your every move, you know, that, yes, you could, and, that, of course, you would. “Seven, eight..." Heart jumping, veins popping, head spinning, every tendon and sinew in you body is tensed and ringing, like a tight guitar string. "Two more..." “I am here, don’t worry”... Nine, ten...” Done! Throat dry, legs shaking, drug yourself from the squatting area, mop your sweaty eyebrow, catch up your breath, sip some water, staring in space and avoiding any eye contact with the people around you. Next one. “Hack” machine. Start all over again. Warm-up sets. Two or three. Stick twenty on each side. Will it be seventy or eighty today? How heavy could I go? That we are about to find out. Come on! Move it!
This is my shrine and my sanctuary. This is my shelter, my church and my monastery. This is my haven, refuge and asylem. My Pergatory, Hell and Heaven. This is, where I pray and get my prayers answered. This is,where my soul is purefied and my spirit soar, where my beliefs are restored and my faith renovated.
An hour and a half later, back at the counter, drinking coffee, chewing half-frozen protein bar from the fridge, chatting to the gym owner, the peace with myself and the world around me almost made, can’t help thinking, that my thoughts and feelings could be summoned in one statement, I’ve read in somebody’s journal, here, in “Harbor”:

YESTERDAY IS A HISTORY, TOMORROW IS A MISTERY, AND TODAY IS A GIFT. THAT’S WHY WE CALL IT “PRESENT”.


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[Запись для всех] 25-11-2005 17:49
You' re simply THE BEST.
The great footballer, the genius of the goal, the person, who changed the face of modern soccer, the fashion icon, the notorious womaniser, George Best died today at 12:55 after what was describes by the Hospital's bulletin, as "a long and valiant fight".

Well, I hope, George, they've got nice astro-turf pitch ready for you on the other side.

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[Запись для всех] 24-11-2005 11:07
DO's and DON'Ts of a gym rat.
DON'Tspend hours exercising.

Recent studies proves, that fitness enthusiasts, who cut their workout times by two thirds got the same results, as those, who sweated for longer.

DO quick, intense workouts.
Instead of exercising for an hour at about 60% of your maximum aerobic capacity, aim instead for 30 mins. at 80%. By getting the same benefits without spending hours at the gym, you will be less likely to get bored and more likely to stick with it.

DON'T bother doing sit-ups.
Sit-ups won’t slim your stomach. They do strengthen and firm the area, but they don’t burn fat, so you’ll be stuck with that spare tyre, however many you manage.

DO concentrate on the cardio.

Unlike sit-ups, swimming, walking, cycling and running all burn fat, which helps trim your waist. Running is your best bet as the overall action also tones abs.

DON'T force yoga postures.

It takes time to achieve many yoga positions. By pushing your body before it’s ready, you are likely to hold your breath and tense your muscles, risking injury.

DO remember to breathe.

Spend one yoga lesson focusing on your breathing, rather than the posture. Deep breathing make a huge difference. Not only your muscles relax, enabling you to stretch further, but you will release tension and find the workout more relaxing.

DON'T limit your stroke.

After the few lengths of any one swimming stroke, technique deteriorates and pace slows, making your workout less effective.

DO fewer lengths and mix it up.

Cut your time in the pool and alternate every two lengths between front crawl, breaststroke and backstroke. This has a cross-training effect, using different muscle groups, so you get an all-over workout.

DON'T just pound the treadmill.

Although running is an effective way to burn fat, if you stopped seeing results, add resistance training. This increases muscle mass, and the more muscle you have, the greater your metabolism rate, so you’ll burn more calories even when you’re doing nothing.

DON'Tgo to the gym every day.


Too much exercise can lead to injury, illness or burnout. It might sound impressive to workout that often, but chances are you’ll get bored and give it up anyway.

DO enjoy rest days.


A day off lets your body repair and rebuild muscle, which you need to get stronger. Take at least two days off a week and relax knowing you’re actually boosting your fitness by doing it.
Just don’t relax with a family – sized chocolate bar.



"Glamour" mag. Oct. 2005
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[Запись для всех] 23-11-2005 19:32
You B-O-W-L-E-D me over!!!
Marin, this one is for you. Again. Got your present today. Could’ve been yesterday, but the Post Office van just missed me, and all I found coming home, was a delivery note with the words “parcel” and order “to collect,” written on it. I did have a pretty good idea, what it was and who it was from, but still felt exited and happy. I love getting presents, and show me anybody, please, who does not.
I popped into our Post Office on my way to work this morning, and got your box. The man behind the window smiled: ”You are getting your Christmas present early this year, I see.” “It’s not.”—I said.—This is even better though. It’s my early birthday present . From my friend. In America”. I would’ve stayed and chatted to him even more, but the queue behind was not kindly inclined towards intimate stories about pen-pals and Internet friendship. So I had to withdraw from the window and got myself busy with the tricky task of arranging a way of transporting the box from the Post Office to my work place. Since the parcel wouldn’t fit into my overstuffed rucksack, I had to improvise. THIS the people in queue did enjoy, there was no doubt about it. The male part of it in particular. I was rooting through my "satchel" in search of a decent size carrier bag. Found two. One, lime green in colour, contained the food, and the other, dark red,---lifting gloves, training clothes and two sets of underwear. Well, if you teach classes(and I do), you can’t avoid having those “bare necessities” in your luggage. Highly amused, the queue was watching me, taking EVERYTHING (LAUNGERY INCLUDED) out of the rucksack and trying to fit my parcel into the each one of the carrier bags. Got my knickers in the twist, literally, while solving this little dilemma. It was a mixed success. The lime green one was way too small. And the dark red one simply refused to be pulled onto the box, popping at the seems. Finally, I pushed my present down its' plasticy depths enough to be able to join the handles above it and to carry it to the train station.
40 mins. later, in the “Mirror” cafe, I was sitting at the table taking out the contents of the box, reading my friend's letter, admiring the bowl, trying to sniff the flavoured coffees and restraining myself from eating, or at the very least, nibbling on the each one of the chocolate bars. Still haven’t tasted it, by the way. Will wait till the “B” day.
Allowed myself a little sentimentality and let my eyes go misty with emotions at the thought of somebody I’ve never met, and who, nevertheless, despite the huge stretch of the Ocean between us, is able “TO REACH FOR MY HAND, BUT TO TOUCH MY HEART”.

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[Запись для всех] 22-11-2005 17:30
A calorie is still not a calorie.
"Mascular Development" mag. USA. Dec 05.
(edited version)


Low-Carb/High-Protein Diet Decreases hunger and Promotes Fat loss.


In a resent, well controlled study by Dr. Nickols-Richardson and colleagues, the impact of a low-carb/high-protein diet compared with a high-carb/low-fat diet on ratings of hunger and cognitive eating restraint were examined. Women were randomized to a low-carb/high-protein or high-carb-low-fat diet for six weeks. Bodyweight/body fat were measured and the eating inventory(e.g., self-reported hunger score) was completed at baseline, weeks one to four and week six.
The results indicated, that women in the low-carb/high-protein diet group lost more body fat(5,7%), compared to women in high-carb/low-fat diet group(3,3,percent) after six weeks of dietary intervention. Further more, self-rated hunger decreased in women in the low-carb/high-protein, but not in the high-carb/low-fat group from baseline to week six.
For some reason, the authors didn’t point out, the fact, that the high-carb/low-fat group had greater reductions in energy intake, but still lost less body fat, than the low-carb/high-protein group.
In conclusion, a calorie is certainly not a calorie. Low-carb/high protein diets provide “metabolic advantage”, a greater weight loss/fat loss per calorie consumed, compared to isocaloriac high-carb diets. In fact, some studies suggest, that calorie content may not be as predictive of fat loss as is reduced carbohydrate consumption.


Health Effects of Low-Carb Diets.

A comprehensive literature review by Drs. Arora and McFarlane discussed the current evidence for a low-carb diet versus a low-fat diet in the management of obesity and other metabolic disorders. The key take-home messages were as follows:
1, Significant reduction in fat mass, including truncal fat, which is a marker for visceral obesity, have been demonstrated in many low-carb studies.
2. A low-carb diet is associated with significant improvement in blood sugar control. This is especially important for diabetics, as it has the potential for the reduction in need for diabetic medication.
3. A low-carb diet is more effective , than a low-fat diet at improving blood lipids(HDL, triglycerides, etc).
4.Low-carb diets have been reported to lower blood pressure by causing weight loss and improving insulin sensitivity, though the magnitude of effect on blood pressure has been small.


Very-Low-Carb Diet and Muscle Protein Synthesis.

A study by Harber and co-workers at the University of Michigan examined the influence of a very-low carb-high-protein diet on skeletal muscle protein synthesis(i.e., anabolism) and whole body protein degradation. Eight healthy subjects volunteered for participation in this study. After being admitted to the hospital, the subjects ate a standardized diet for two days, consisting of 60 percent energy from carbs; 30 percent from fat and 10 percent from protein. During the one-week, very low-carb/high-protein diet, the subjects consumed a weight-maintaining diet, consisting of five percent of total energy from carbs, 60 percent from fat and 35 percent from protein.
The main finding of this study was, that skeletal muscle protein synthesis increased despite strict carb restriction and a dramatic reduction in insulin levels. The oncrease in skeletal muscles anabolism was accompanied by an increase in whole-body protein degradation. So, what’s the bottom line? Well, the study confirmed, that a very-low-carb/high-protein diet certainly doesn’t lead to progressive loss of muscle mass.
However, this study also suggest, that a very-low-carb diet isn’t ideal, if your primary goal is to increase muscle mass, as the increase in muscle anabolism was accompanied by an increase in whole-body protein break-down.
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[Запись для всех] 21-11-2005 15:52
Violence is NOT the answer.
Popped out of the gym to buy some food in a little Greek delicatessen on the “Cockfosters parade” .
I like the shop. They have most authentic Greek salad you could get in London, most stinking sheep milk feta cheese, that I’ve ever come across, biggest and freshest black olives from the owner’s brother’s olive grove in Greece and best Cox apples anywhere in the Universe. They are my all time favourites, but always make me sad too, as they were my mum’s preferred kind, and seeing them, smelling them and touching their slightly rough red-yellow-greenish skin reminds me of her. The way she used to smile, while holding a fruit next to her cheek, the way she used to say “I like them so. Don’t you?”
In a reflective mood I was walking back to the gym, peeping into the shops windows, already decorated for Christmas, with little glittering fur trees, snowmen, baubles and tinsel.
And then I saw a scene, that under other circumstances might’ve amuse me or even provoke a smile. But for the reasons of my own it distressed me and made me feel somewhat uneasy and restless.
It was not much. Birds’ fight (never, actually, seen anything like it before). Two magpies were attacking one another, up in the air and down on the ground, pecking each other’s chests, taking big clamps of feathers and down; and trying to gouge the eyes of the “enemy” with their beaks. The third one was keeping nearby all the time, circling around the two hooligans, rattling something non-stop in the magpie language.
Whether it was a referee or one of the brawlers’ supporters, was very hard for me to decide. Lots of other black-and-white members of the gang were placed on all the nearby trees, quite high, for better observance, no doubt, and were expressing their either support or hatred with very noisy energy.
The fight ended with the birds on the ground, two monochrome spots amongst the bronze and red of the fallen leaves, with the winner sitting on the loser’s chest, digging its claws into the pray, like a hawk and hammering the victim’s head,like a wood-pecker, aiming for the eye.
The one on its’ back would’ve probably ended up dead, if I haven’t stepped in. Making as much noise, as I could on the thick carpet of soft brown leafy mush, waving my shopping bag in the air, I run to the fighters and almost had to grab the top one to get it off . It flew up on the tree slowly and unwillingly, swearing at me still in “magpie”. The other one got on its’ feet unsteadily, shook itself exactly the way dogs do after the fight, adopted indifferent and slightly insolent air and flew into the opposite direction.
The viewers up on the tree were chatting agitatedly. I, most likely, upset their plans for winning a huge bet on one of the birds---fighters.

I was walking back to the gym, thinking, that everybody seems to be at war: humans, animals, even birds. If it’s not bombs and arms, then it’s boxing gloves, or fangs or beaks. And if it’s not all of the above, then it’s words. And sometimes they are worse, than the most sophisticated weapon, the most powerful nuclear device on Earth. Words could and do kill. Not physically, no. But they diminish our confidence, destroy our faith in ourselves and all the Good in the world, and, eventually, demolish our personality, leaving us with low self-esteem, no dreams, ideals or believes. There are no winners in the war of the words. Nobody comes unscathed out of it, with the dignity intacked and the self-respect still in place.
When are we going to realise one simple thing, once expressed by the “Famous Four” in the way nobody has expressed it better since:

"ALL YOU NEED IS LOVE?"

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[Запись для всех] 20-11-2005 09:24
"This shoes are made for A-WALKING"..
Walking may not seem, like the fastest way to lose weght, since it is low impact and low intensity. But fitness trainers will tell you, that a brisk walk, particularly uphill, willmake your heart beat at just the right speed to burn fat most effectively without having to overdo it. And that where the latest word in sport footwear, Masai Barefoot Technology(MBT),are stepping in to give your walking a little extra spring and add a little "impact" to it. Sure, they are a far cry from the killer heels found on the red carpet, but if you can loose weight going shopping, it's worth knowing about it.

What is it?

MBTs were developed by Karl Muller, a Swiss engineer, who had been affected severely by back, knee and Achilles tendon problems. He designed the shoe to mimic the foot movement of the Masai Tribes in Kenya, who are famed for their perfect posture, therefore helping to reduce aches and paines, as well as tone up muscles and even fight cellulite.

What does it do?

The shoes' rolling soles force the wearer to stand up straight and use muscles, that are usually neglected. But first, you have to be fitted for YOUR MBTs, and then shown, how to stand and walk in them correctly. They need to be worn for half an hour a day, eventually building up to an hour.

What does it feel like?

The first few times you walk in them, you may feel, like a baby giraffe, set to take a tumble at any moment. But after a while, it's like riding a bike.

Does it work?

Judging by aching legs after the first half-hour walk, they definitely do something. The thighs have the tight toned feeling you get from a workout on a bike or a stepping machine, and they are buzzing from newly improved circulation. The results aren't instant, but after wearing them a few times, your legsWILL look more toned.

How much does it cost?

MBT shoes or sportshoes are 129pounds a pair and the sandals --119 pounds.

The website.

www.mbt-uk.com
Комментарии к записи:
[Запись для всех] 18-11-2005 08:14
Nothing better, than Dave's letter.
He remindes me every Friday, of what's important, he sets my priorities straight, he gives me a jump-start on cold winter mornings, recharges my batteries and refuels my engine with his unbeatable sense of humour, singlemindedness and optimism.



"Weight training plays an important role in my life. I could live without it, but who wants to be strapped to a bed in a barren room, sedated and spoon-fed? Thus, I train hard. More than that, I insist on training hard every workout when, perhaps, I should lighten up. That it took 20 minutes to force the words "lighten up" onto the computer screen attests to my bullheadedness. Lighten up is for them, those other people, the lightweights, the sweet-smelling spa-sters, the smiley playful crowd -- the no blood, no sweat, no tears, no pain, no gain bunch. Not me. I dare say, not us.

Intense training gets the job done. No argument. So I blast it.

Blasting.

It is a relative term meaning as hard as I can without popping a cork, pulling a bi, ripping a tri or tearing a rotator. Today’s blasting is a crackle compared to, say, 1965, but blasting is blasting. Blasting is not only effective, it’s fun, seductive and habit forming. It is also a fanged beast and will take a bite out of your backside.

Three, four or five wonderful weeks of training, hard-hitting and
relatively injury-free, cause solid hypertrophy and allow enthusiasm to lead the way to climactic muscle saturation and fulfillment. Now this is a sensational place to be, bombers, but not the place to remain. The wise man knows this place and visits with respect; the fool visits this place and tries to move in.

Outta my way, I’m takin' over the joint...

Training insensitivity and greed cause me to push beyond my limits and I begin to regress. Aches and pains in muscles and joints bully me as I fight back with antagonism. Invariably I push on, insisting upon overcoming lifting thresholds and boundaries, striving to reach the outermost regions of growth and advancement. Throughout my training years the same thing happened regularly and didn’t register on the Body Richter Scale (BRS). Friday I blasted it and the BRS registered red and an obnoxious buzzer went off.

I hate this high-tech stuff.

The signals gained my undivided attention. They require a response. Today, Monday, I stand in the center of the gym (I made it) and look full-circle about me. What can I do that won’t hurt a lot... a little? I sting from head to toe, my fingertips throb, I can’t reach my nose to scratch it.
Sitting is difficult, bending is out of the question. Standing begins to take its toll and I move like a caterpillar to an inconspicuous flat bench. I sit, applauding myself for the dazzling display physical agility, and consider my next move. There’s no rush, I wait and wonder. What? Do what?

No anger, no fear, no danger, no action movement -- just waiting and
wondering, and a ringing in the center of my head. It’s shoulder and chest day, which is laughable since the pecs are mushy mounds and the deltoids spasm uncontrollably. Patience and persistence void of love and hate.
That’s me. Eyes open, reactions ready. Time is the coach, the pause a
referee. What isn’t answered in the action is resolved in the wait.

I’m here and doubt I’ll leave without hanging somewhere by the thumbs for 45 minutes. It’s mandatory, the unwritten code. I can do abs, if I can get into the darn convoluted preliminary position -- lying on my back. From that vantage point I can attempt crunches and leg raises. The stimulation will be healthy and indicate my level of inability. Swell. I can attain a bearable rhythm and continue to wonder privately and, perhaps, discover the direction to travel. I feel like Magellan.

By the twentieth crunch it becomes clear that bombing and blasting are addictive and enthusiasm is internally contagious and, unless governed, they lead to overtraining. Brilliant, though I’m turning light blue with torso soreness. The solutions are various and zip through my ringing head like BBs:

Maintain status quo: Continue same bulldog methodology and respond
appropriately when overtraining (OT) occurs -- moan, recede minimally, pretend pain is gone and carry on like a fool.

Moderate training:

Inject a day of thoughtful stimulation, throttle back
training to moderate pace with moderate weight and moderate intensity.
Moderate reminds me of the masses on Sunday morning, the slow lane on
Interstate 5, half sunny days, quarter-pounders, a four-foot Christmas tree... no tinsel.

Preemptive training: Appropriately temper training input -- intensity
within set and rep, weight used -- and upon restoration resume
forcefulness with new intelligence, sensitivity and intuition. I don’t trust my deep inner feelers, exactly. Loose fuse, short in the over-ride mechanism, erosion due to time...

Bridle training:

Sensitively alternate high intensity and moderate
intensity training to overload muscles, yet not load the muscles
excessively. This has real possibilities.

Reconsider training goals: Train for health, longevity and pleasure
without compromising hard core integrity. Sounds suspiciously like
maintenance training, which is smart, yet invariably leads to accepting lower levels of strength, muscle size and hardness, and physical conditioning. Soon you’re back where you started and nobody gets out of your way or does what you tell them to do. Well worth a month or two in the winter or summer, but as a steady program, unacceptable.

Pharmacy training, a last resort:

Drugs and painkillers and deflammatories
--this is not an uncommon route to go. You begin easing aches by ingesting a variety of over-the-counter pain killers and anti-inflammatories. As pain increases and minor-league treatments lose their effectiveness, the logical move is to the big leagues where trade-offs are serious. The health of the system is compromised and ugly symptoms rear their head in due time. Organs like kidneys, stomach, intestines and liver don’t tolerate the stuff like they do fresh vegetables, fruit and fish.

Of course, in certain circles muscle-enhancers are considered and tried and grab hold like a monkey on your back. A healthy sport and constructive pursuit transforms into a destructive ego trip. Integrity and wholesome vitality are sacrificed. An unfamiliar being emerges and life goes up in smoke or down like a house of cards. Reality has a way of disappointing us with the hard, cold truth.

Oh, no, Captain Dave -- that’s 575 crunches, five or six solutions and you’re deep blue, tinged with gray. The gym owner called my closest living relative, Laree, and she suggested they pour a bucket of water on me and drag me to the back door... no problemo. She’d pick me up after the freeway traffic subsides. That’s my girl.

Leave the flying to us. We deliver. DD"

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[Запись для всех] 17-11-2005 11:55
LOST IN TRANSLATION.
Watched “Joe Black” again yesterday, on one of our innumerable channels. Like the film. Like Brad Pitt. Always amazes me, for some reason, how he is not just a pretty face but a very good actor. And astonishingly versatile too. Comedy, drama, romance, action—you name it, he could do it all.
But it’s not about former Mr. Aniston performing abilities I usually think, while watching this film.
There is the scene in the hospital with Joe and dying Jamaican woman, where Brad (The Death) speaks with perfect Caribbean accent. How do you interpret this very specific pronunciation into other languages? Jamaicans have very funny way with English: theirs is lilted and lisping, and they “swallow” the “h”, where it’s supposed to be sound and “vocalise” it, where it’s suppose to be mute. Makes you feel almost sorry for the poor foreign actors, providing behind the screen voices. They clearly have their work cut out for them!
The same with the jokes. Not just in this film. In any. Take “James Bond” movies, for instance. I love them, watched every one of them hundreds and hundreds of times and simply can not imagine the famous phrases, such as “The name’s Bond. J-a-m-e-s B-o-n-d.” or “Vodka Martini. S-h-a-k-e-n n-o-t s-t-i-r-r-e-d.” It would sound awkward converted to any other language. It would lose all it’s charm and wit and appeal. Bond’s films are simply packed with one-liners and double entendres, which play one of the most important parts in these iconic creations of cinematic art. And, translated word by word or taken out of the dialogs or monologues altogether, it would rob the pictures of its humour and irony, make it lose the sparkle, and some scenes would make no sense at all.
I get this very often with the books or films I’ve watched or read before in another language. “Master and Margarita”, one of my all time favourites, which I would most probably run into the burning house to save from a fire, disappointed me dreadfully in its English version. I guess anything with THAT much Russian character and very specific attributes of our country’s life, should be left well alone by interpreters and be read in the original language only.
It was quite a different story with “Doctor Zhivago”. I got familiar with the novel at a tender age of sixteen. And this might be partly the reason of my dislike of the book then. What could a mere slip of a girl understand about life, love, death, grief and suffering? But it wasn’t just absence of experience, that made the book boring and “heavy going”. It was the style, the manner of Pasternak’s in presenting the events and characters—slow, dry and almost documentative. Paradoxically for a poet, facts, rather, than emotions, and sketches and graphics, rather than paintings and colours.
Not most suitable literature for the Russian language, whereas, while reading it in more dry and technical English I found it impossible to put the book down and even shed a sneaky tear once a twice.
Languages are queer things. What is hilariously funny in one is unbearably dull in the other, what make perfect sense in English would be a complete nonsense in Russian.
And what’s rude in your own native tongue would be simply a sound for a foreigner, unimportant and inoffensive.
And speaking of offensive: in one of my gyms I’ve got a female member called Pryah N-A-H-E-R.




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[Запись для всех] 16-11-2005 17:55
"Tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies".
Very appropriate song for brushing up your CV with. Everybody, who ever had an ungreatful task of composing a "Curicculum Vitae" will know, what I mean. They are not lies, as such. They are, what could be called a slight exaggerations, or "reality decoration". You not leading anybody astray with tale telling, you are simply curbing the truth ever so subtly, presenting yourself in the best light possible, AND giving the prospective employers, what they expect.
Where there is a demand, there is always the offer. And THAT should keep my mind at ease and my conscience clean.
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[Запись для всех] 15-11-2005 11:25
Mixing business with pleasure.
Staying at home today, waiting for a delivery of something. Don't ask me, what it is, 'cos I've NO idea. Not mine, my husabands' thingy. Something he bought on the e-BAY, something, that, apparently, WILL be arriving today, but MIGHT take the whole day travelling from up North. Wish it was a magic lamp, or a ginnie in a bottle. Then I might, finally, start learning how to mix pleasure with pleasure. Somewhere hot and sunny.
Well, that my BUSINESS for today, anyway. And I guess, one hour on the X-trainer could be classified, as business as well--the business of attending to my body daily need of cardiovascular exercise. Done and dusted (or,rather, sweated) now.
On to the pleasure agenda. "NOT WORKING" is the most pleasing occupation I could imagine. And I intend to enjoy myself, while engaging in it, as much, as I am capable of.
Right now switching alternately between watching "Less, than perfect" on "ABC 1" and reading two books. One, what was once described by "Sunday Times" as "A masterly piece of literary resurrection"---"Rebecca's Tale" by Sally Beauman. Have read it in Russian long time ago. Think, I was 15 at the time. Much darker and more atmospheric in English.
The other one called "Mars. Venus" by Lohn Gray and belongs to my "other half", believe it, or not. Some things in it I would regard as questionable, some would dismiss, as nonsense, pure and simple. But a few have drawn my attention and deserve to be quoted.

**************************************************
**************

When we mistakenly think men and women are the same,our relationship are filled with unrealistic expectations.

**************************************************
**************

When a woman is able to face the part of herself, that needs love, it is easy for a man to be attracted to her.

**************************************************
******

What makes a man most attractive to a woman, is his ability to make her feel, like a woman.

**************************************************
*****************

Love can last a lifetime, but it requires the ability to continually let go of our expectations about how our partner should be and behave, and to find a greater understanding and acceptance.

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[Запись для всех] 14-11-2005 09:12
The touch of frost.
Very cold day. Dark blue clear sky with the big shaggy stars and tarmac, gleaming with “black ice”. Passengers on my bus at 6 o’clock in the morning resemble the remains of Napoleon Army after the defeat at Borodino battle: shivering in their skinny fleeces, pulling the thin useless fabric tighter around them, the lucky ones with the scarves, tagging them up to their eyes.
I, in contrast, feeling as smug, snug and cosy, as Russian partisan of the same era, in my ” nearly new” sheep-skin, bought at a car-boot sale for one pound and fifty pens, huge sloppy sweater, knitted little hat and leather gloves.
It does pay off, does it not, being born close to Arctic Circle, and knowing how to deal with the tricks of the Old Man Frost.

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[Запись для всех] 11-11-2005 08:32
The Marathon Anthem.
To a tough girl marathon runner.

To the one, whom I was fortunate enough to meet here, at "Harbor". To the one, whom I consider a friend.
To the one, whose dedication and srength I admire.
To ONE and ONLY "Sweetie Pie" (you still are to me, Marin).

**************************************************
*************

A Marathon-Force to be reconed
With.
It doesn't relate
To your shoulders'
Width.


It doesn't consider
The hardship
You get.
It only deals
With the mileage
Ahead.

You pounding tarmac.
Your breathing is hard.
Your tactics and strategy
Have to be smart.

Your strenghs must sustain you
The lenghs of the course.
And last kilometre
Is always the worst.

You panting and sweating,
Your feet are a blurr.
Fatigue and frustration
Just wait to occur.

And tiredness setting,
And courage might wane.
Keep fighting it over
Again and again.

The whole of "Harbor"
Is holding its' breath.
"Come on, Sweetie Pie,
Do you ultimate best!!!"

"Well done!"-we will scream,
Stomp and clap,
Sing and woop.
And, oh, I still hope
To taste "ГРИБНОЙ СУП".



It's NOT for weakhearted,
And YOU not the one.
"Extreem" is your utmost
Idea of F-U-N.

Come first, or come last-
NOT important, my friend.
You've proven your worth.
Laugh and cry.
Happy end.

**************************************************
*****************

Послесловие-Посвящение. Почти тост.

Бегали ли вы когда-нибудь Марафон? Если да, то вы знаете, что это такое, и лишние слова здесь ни к чему(и какие-либо слова вообще). Если нет, то, надеюсь, что вместе со мной вы осознаёте всю огромность и тяжесть задачи, доборовольно взваленной на подчас совсем не широкие и мускулистые, а хрупкие и женские плечи. И какое количество времени(чаще всего ГОД тренировок),сил, энергии, самодисциплины,слёз, пота и крови(иногда самой настоящей, красной и горячей)принесено на алтарь и посвящено единой цели---пробежать 42,185 км.
Никогда не одолев одну из самых знаменитых дистанций сама, я, тем не менее, работаю с людьми, которые имеют за плечами одну(или даже несколько)таких "побед".
Независимо от того первый ты, десятый или последний, марафон-это всегда победа. Победа над расстоянием, временем, усталостью, болью, изнеможением---победа над собой. И мне очень хочется верит, что в победах этих людей есть и моя, пусть незначительная, но всё же часть. Подготовка, режим тренировок, питание, поддержка и мотивация--всё это я.И сегодня мне бы очень хотелось попросить всех, кто сюда заглянет оказать такую помощь и поддержку, стать частью победы одной удивительной женщины. Человек, которого я, надеюсь, имею право назвать своим другом, в Субботу, 12/11/05, бежит первый в своей жизни марафон. И если каждый, прочитавший эти строки, мысленно присоединится ко мне в пожелании ей удачи, успеха, лёгкого пути и ветра в спину, я знаю, в своей далёкой Атланте наша Марина это почувствует.
Слышишь, Марин? Мы с тобой. Мы берём на себя самое тяжелое--настроиться и сопереживать, оставляя тебе самое лёгкое---пробежать.
И поскольку всё, написанное выше, является тОстом, хотите верьте, хотите нет, то мне бы не хотелось забыть хорошую традицию: после тОстов (и возлияний) обычно следуют песни. Ну а поскольку я(и надеюсь, хотя бы часть здесь присутствующх)человек скучный и нездорОво придерживающийся здорОвого образа жизни, категорически исключив "алкогольную" стадию, перейдём к "песенной".
Произведения ритмичные, энергичные и мотивационные, как-то "Нам ли стоять на месте", "Наш паровоз вперёд лети", "Мы рождены, чтоб сказку сделать былью", приветствуются и поощряются. Так же, если позволяют знание языка и голосовые данные, не возбраняется пение "We are the Champions".
Ну,и обязательными номерами нашего застольного марафона являются шедевры "именинного" репертуара, как отечественные, так и зарубежные:"Каравай", "Пусть бегут неуклюже" и "Happy Birthday".
Последние в ознаменование ещё одного события в жизни нашего отважного марафонца ---Дня Рождения, отмечаемого на следующий после "пробежки" день. C Днeм Рождения!!! Happy Birthday!!!

Well, I said it all. Nothing for it but to drink our friend's good health.

Поднимая бокал(с водой):За тех, кто в пути. За тех, кто на бегу. За тебя, Марин.

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[Запись для всех] 10-11-2005 10:11
Hair we go--2 !!!
The great one was right(aren’t they always?)---our life IS one big theatre. We conduct most of our daily deeds on stage without quite realising it, vulnerable to the outside hostile world, subjected to its' ridicule and cruelty, and representing an endless source of the spectators’ joy and amusement.
Last night there were two people on the train from “Liverpool Street Station” to “Hertford East” , two strangers, sitting next to each other and providing most delightful entertainment for the fellow passengers.
The female part of the “odd couple” was represented by yours, truly, me, myself, the one and the only, etc.
The male part---by a young (ish) Polish musician. The occupation wasn’t hard to establish, as the guy was holding a cello case in between his knees. The nationality was even easier to guess, as all the way , till I left the train, his ear was glued to mobile phone, and his conversation consisted mainly of that most famous Polish word: “k-u-r-v-a “.
Sitting together, our shoulders almost touching, our heads close, we cut one of the most bizarre pictures you could observe in the great theatrical show, produced, by the most imaginative director ever---the LIFE itself.
My head after severe treatment, applied to it by my very own hand, armed with kitchen scissors, now reminds a billiard ball, which suddenly started sprouting brownish--ginger tuff. Took half an hour of jumping in front of the kitchen mirror on Tuesday morning, the whole day of neck aching after craning it, trying to see the back of my head in the tiny compact, and, most importantly, saved me a bundle I would’ve paid, have I gone to a hair-dressing salon.
My Eastern-European neighbour, however, managed to look even more exotic. He was sporting “Medusa head”--- long, V-E-R-Y long, dark blond dreadlocks, snaking down his military jacketed shoulders and hanging below the waist.
People around us kept looking, grinning and smirking, restraining themselves from staring openly. Well, I guess, the contrast was just too obvious and the contradiction of the traditional view of “masculine” and “feminine” proved just too much for the public to bear.
With slight blush in my cheeks, have a grace to admit, that I enjoyed myself immensely during 20 mins. ride home, being the centre of such a controversy and sitting next to a V-E-R-Y cute guy (despite the revolting hair). My only regret, he was too engrossed into all that “kurva” business, to puzzle him with the question: ”Out of two of us, which one do you think would be a raging feminist, and which one---a right candidate for a Turkish Sultan’s Harem ?”

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[Запись для всех] 10-11-2005 07:52
Hare we go!
Just saw one. The hare. On my way to work this lovely, warm, slightly damp morning. The animal was busily loping about amongst the yellow leaves on the ground of Cockfosters’ rugby field. Almost invisible, almost merging into the background of tawny, grey and brown, camouflaged by the same colour coat.
It was the tail, that gave the creature away. Snowy-white, fluffy and going side to side, it jumped into my sight and stopped me on my tracks for a good look. Once it noticed me, the hare left the important business of searching for breakfast and began studying "the intruder" with unashamed curiosity and completely unscared. I was almost expecting a grumpy:"Well, what do you think you looking at? Don't you see, I haven't got time for stupid idle passers-by. I'm trying to find something to eat!""
What DO wild bunnies feed themselves on? Unlike their domestic cousins, they don’t have the luxury of “carrots in bed” , provided for them by adoring humans-owners. Well, whatever the little eary one was looking for, hope it would be enough to keep it through the day of hopping, jumping and running.
After regarding each other with our respective inquisitive stares for a bit(hare's was almost a challenging one), we both went back to our respective tasks. Hare---to its food quest, and I—-- to what eventually will put carrots (and more) on my table.

[Запись для всех] 09-11-2005 14:45
Is it all in the stars?
I don't believe in horoscopes, but this two predictions strike me as something of a reality approximation.
Guide for November 6th to 12th. "Sunday Mirror" newspaper.



Leo.

DireXtor

"Your instincts are probably spot on and anything to go with love or romance
is feeling the benefit of the good luck planet Jupiter. There is a lot of potential and a real chance to move in closer. Listen a bit harder to your inner voice from now on and take that crucial step forwards. You can care, share and fall in love".


Sagittarius.

Me.


"It’s possible, that someone needs to save face. You can try to keep things together---if you can’t provide a solution, they’ll probably walk away for good. The ball is in your court and only you can make that decision. You are not expecting much, and the stars say, that you’ll soon have more freedom to do, what you want and the right people to share it with".

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[Запись для всех] 08-11-2005 13:25
If he is worth having, I am worth waiting for...
This little essey, borrowed again, (as it seems to have become my custom) from my "journalist" pal, still "Sweetie Pie" to me, echoes my thoughts of the previous entry.

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Women....
Women are like apples on trees. The best ones are at the top of the tree. Most men don't want to reach for the good ones because they are afraid of falling and getting hurt. Instead, they sometimes take the apples from the ground that aren't as good, but easy. The apples at the top think something is wrong with them, when in reality, they're amazing. They just have to wait for the right man to come along, the one who's brave enough to climb all the way to the top of the tree.

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Now Men....
Men are like a fine wine. They begin as grapes, and it's up to women to stomp the shit out of them until they turn into something acceptable to have dinner with.
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