“Blood, sweat and tears”

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from the Endomorph :
the replay …

If this were a journal I think it would have to read something like this:

May 14th 2013

Traffic, strikes and a country in turmoil .
Chaos has followed me around the entire week , robbing me of my spare time, trapping me in a situation that I cannot change as
an individual, leaving me frustrated and angry!
I am not alone, I share this frustration with thousands of others.
Again in an already failing economy our entire public transportation system has been sabotaged by nationwide strikes.
Thousands of people are left stranded and battle to find their way to work and back home again.
The roads are flooded with cars and jammed from one end to the other.
A 30 min journey is taking 2 hours to complete, sometimes more.
Our governments sits back, takes little notice of the man trying to put food on his table, why should they, when they have been put there
to govern without cause.
It’s known that they are escorted during their travels with brigades of armoured cars flashing blue lights so that all must stand aside and let them pass.
Not so easy for the rest of us.
South-Africa is infected with corruption, a disease spreading so deep into her core that I doubt if she will ever be cured again.
South-Africa is dying.
Even the beautiful die. A beautiful country has collapsed, left alone to die, with no one to care for her in the last years of her life.
Most of us don’t know how, we’re not qualified.
The ones who are ¬†qualified steal her last riches while she is down and use her weakness against her. It’s the perfect time,
the world is too busy to care. Too many countries are ill with the same infection. And unfortunately for us South-Africa does not belong to the debutantes of Europe.
She is left, no one noticing as she comes crashing down the flight of stairs. The pretty girls from the right side of the tracks steal the show, no one will help her up, eventually it will be too late.
People who no longer live here make documentaries of what a miracle the transition was. How amazing it was to see a country change it’s values. They ran from the transition though, they do not suffer with the rest of us, there is no miracle in corruption.
There is no democracy if the only change is changing the victim.
There is no democracy if the initial victim has never been healed.
There is no democracy if hate has just changed colour.
The miracle most of us wanted was just a magic trick, flawlessly executed, fooling us into believing we will become strong together, when the plan was to separate us even more.
The smart ones saw it coming and left quickly, before the world closed their doors to us.
The rest of us are sitting in traffic, wondering when the price of fuel will increase again, and how our president will spend foreign aid on his family home instead of the desperately hungry and homeless.
Then again we won’t know, because after the great “miracle” the #SECRECY ACT of South Africa prevents us talking about it.
Our leaders have convinced the world that they are now looking after their own, that we are singing and dancing hand in hand in the street, the rest is a secret to everyone.
My friend from Zimbabwe tells me their country had caught the same kind of flu many years ago for which there was no cure until the day of her death.
Make a documentary about that miss Theron and Bishop Tutu.
Tell the world how we have come together as a nation, together in our equal neglect, our equal desperation, our equal devastation.
Tell them from your home in Miami and your lounge on the hill.
Another magic trick! Forget to interview the man and woman living in an informal settlement, still living there since the “miracle”,
still without running water, still without a toilet , still without a school, a doctor or bed.
Show me the miracle of this while we are standing in a road lined with homes made from garbage and scrap, and I will show you
a magic trick too…
but this is not a journal, this is a blog about fitness, so whats my point.
Point is … fuckers robbed me of my gym time and it was virtually impossible to get to do something that ads meaning to my life because of the ripple effect caused by my current every day situation.

fast forward …

I get that all the “super-hero’s” say fitness is the mentality to create time to accommodate a dedicated lifestyle.
I failed terribly at this, I could barley manage to accommodate brushing my teeth never mind my fitness routine.
They never tell you what to do when that happens in the “body for life” and “super abs in 60 second” books.
I was going strong, and then I just couldn’t get to gym.
Did I gain a pound. Perhaps I did.
Did I suffer the wrath of the gym gods, n0 I didn’t !
Things happen to normal people.
The blood, sweat and tears we spend just getting through the average day is enough to show us that we are not quitters!
We are already dedicated to the impossible, SURVIVAL!
So I have to go to gym on a Sunday to catch up, same as working late to catch up.
So I lost a day or two and ate inconsistently, but those were the circumstances, and that was the best I managed to do.
The one thing I have learned from excepting a glitch here and there is that it is easier to get back into balance as soon as things even out a bit.
When the ocean is rough you can’t fish.
When life is rough you can’t always get to gym.
Try and restore the balance (***note to self) first by calming yourself down,
this will have better results when your working out anyway!
However fess up and grow a pair, don’t just walk away forever, a few days or a week is not forever!
As “Dori” says in #Finding Nemo “JUST KEEP SWIMMING!”
There is a truth to gym, and life and dieting that we should never forget,
“FALL DOWN 7 TIMES, GET UP 8!! “,
Sorry it’s not the secret to getting abs in 60 seconds that I just dedicated to myself more than any one else here, but perhaps I have talked myself into getting my ass back on the treadmill today and getting back to beating that unsightly bulge that makes flying coach even more terrible than …. well flying coach !

“Just keep swimming dudes!”

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Metamorphosis – the missing fitness mag link … ?

metamorphosis – wikipedia:
Metamorphosis is a biological process by which an animal develops after birth or hatching,
involving a conspicuous and abrupt change in the animals body structure through cell growth and differentiation .
Some insects, cnidarians, amphibians, molluscs, and tunicates undergo metamorphosis,
which is usually accompanied by a change of habitat or behaviour.

from the Endomorph:

I bought my first fitness mag when I was still googly-eyed and at school.
I was picked on for being arty and different and thought that if I went to gym to gain some muscle,
I would be able to swing things in my favour a little.
The first magazine I ever purchased was a “Mens Workout” mag, and there it was, page after page of shiny genetically amplified muscle.
My first thoughts about the guy on the inside middle page was…
“ain’t no one gonna get up in your face !” and
“whoa, them are some short, shorts ya all wearing!”
Unfortunately for me I never quite understood that most of the guys in fitness mags where “metamorphosed” creatures belonging to a select group of only perhaps a few thousand on this great big turning ball of a planet inhabited by 5.99988887777666 billion other
people.
It was a pity that the particular magazine I had bought only sported images of super-humans and didn’t come with a content warning!

After reading about weight-lifting and supplements, I ran to gym, joined (for the first of a million times) and nearly pitched a tent the first week from not wanting to leave.
By week two my enthusiasm decreased, and by week three, I was ready to move back home.
And for f**k sake I still didn’t look anything like anyone in those mags – not possible !
(I did however look half anorexic as I ate barely anything and dropped weight like a good habit . FYI this don’t happen after 30 no more.)
I had the same routine throughout my 20’s.
Each time I would catch the fever – I would run to gym and want it to happen overnight.
I wanted to be a magazine boy !
I would have also probably achieved more if I started selling them on street corners.
My weight yo-yoed out of control – I added and lost muscle like Hue lost Bunnies and I became despondent and depressed.

There were a couple of things missing from my “routine”:
1) actually having a routine
2)doing my homework regarding fitness
3)figuring out what a proper diet consisted of = 80% of what working out is about.
4)learning not to waste my time if I thought it was a waste of time
5)what my body type was,
6)”magazine boys” didn’t rock the pages after working out for 12 weeks.

Fact is, “magazine guys” are great motivation for fitness and weight training. Fitness magazines also wouldn’t sell if say, you put me on the cover without a shirt on. Fact is that fitness is a huge business and all about the selling products, equipment and beauty.
Thats ok , it creates employment and gives us something to look at.
It would however just be really great for once just to add a dash of reality, and by looking at all the reality crap they kill television with, there must be a market.
I would have been a lot more grateful if somewhere along the line they included an average guy , who didn’t get the chance to spend his life in the gym, who had a lot of stress and a big old fat belly and said, “right lets see if any of this works”.
And then make him write an article about it, so that we could learn about the absolute hell it is to go through a metamorphosis of the body and more importantly the mind.
How to keep going at it when real things happen like,
your company is in trouble,
your boss is an asshole,
your business is not breaking even,
your drive by 2000 fast food holes on your way home
your partner doesn’t want to touch you with a broom in the basement
your cost of living spirals into orbit each day.

I find it hard to train when bad things are happening, or when I am sad.
This is the most important time to train because of the whole endorphin thing blah, blah.
But you know what?…
It’s hard to drive to gym, when you can go home and loose yourself in another crap episode of “The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills” (those people need Jesus)
It’s easy to say, later, tomorrow and not now.
It’s hard to say ok, 45mins and burnout.
Ripping your muscles apart and drowning in sweat – sucks, it really does, and what sucks even more is squats and that you look like you
have pooped yourself the day after because you can’t climb the stairs to your office.
The biggest suck-fest is that it all happens quite slowly if you have the body type that was put together when God was not in character that particular day and your DNA spiral is a little bent.

We can only ever do our best.
Sometimes doing our best means doing something out of character.
Sometimes we have to change the habitat that we are comfortable in, displace ourselves to such and extent that we are uncomfortable and even in pain.
I cannot guarantee it, but I am almost certain that this will initiate a change of energy, and to be honest at this point in time I pray that I am right, because right now I am in that uncomfortable place.

Today I have poop-legs and an extremely stressful reality weighing down on my life, that makes lifting more weight look like such an insignificant part of the process.
I am uncomfortable in my personal life,
but I am going to go to gym anyway, because I would really LIKE to loose some inches off this 43 inch belly and because it’s uncomfortable and I can still choose to do it,
makes me a little more free today than I was a week ago.