Absurd

Whether stepping up my weight training or starting to run so I don't die like Pheidippides did after his run from the Battle of Marathon during the MCM in October, one word has been used a fair amount recently to describe my efforts: "Absurd."

In a country where over 34% of the adults (and 17% of the adolescents) are clinically obese, and another 34% are overweight...more than two-thirds of our country... being fat is the norm.

You know what? If being fat and out of shape is the norm, then being "absurd" not a bad thing.

I used to fit in that statistic, and if you use BMI, I still am by 0.2 points. Side note: BMI is bullshit. Body fat percentage should be used instead of height/weight calcs, but that's a rant for another time. At 6ft tall and 260+lbs, I was the epitome of the new norm. I lived my life being lazy and eating foods that were shitty nutritionally. It became habit.

"First we make our habits, then our habits make us." - Charles C. Noble

I would sit on my ass, play video games all day, and eat junk food. Don't get me wrong, I still game with the best of them, but instead of chips and fast food, I choose chicken and veggies. Instead of planting myself on my couch for the whole weekend, I get up and play football, lift, run....and then sit on my couch (don't worry, I shower first!). I changed my habits, and then my habits changed me.

I now make my habits to continually grow stronger, faster, and leaner. To not be average. To be the best I can. This means not being content and stopping just because I can pull the full stack on the lat pull down. That I can go a mile further than I could before. That, what used to be my max, I do now for reps. To always be making progress.

So I'll take it as a compliment. I'm completely absurd.

Challenge

Let’s get one thing straight: I. Hate. Running.

Running around while playing football or soccer or doing wind-sprints – I can handle. In fact, it’s rather enjoyable, then. There’s a short term goal: sack the qb, get the TD, beat your opponent to the ball, there’s something usually within 5-30 seconds. What can I say; I have a short attention span.

Distance running, however, is the bane of my existence - I mean, aside from doing laundry - which is exactly why I’m going to run the Marine Corps Marathon.

Waithuhwha? Didn’t you just…

Yup. I just told you that I hate running with the fire of a thousand suns.

It’s all too easy to stick to the stuff you’re good at. For me, that’s lifting weights. You’re in your comfort zone. You’ll most likely get better and better at it, sure, and hey, if your paycheck depends on that skill, then by all means stick with it. For most of us though, fitness is a hobby, and complete mastery of a sport isn’t needed for our day to day. We get confident, perhaps overly so, in the things were good at. Believe it or not, there was a day not too long ago where I couldn’t deadlift more than 95lbs, I was benching only the bar, could only do 5 pull-ups. I sucked up my pride and worked at it. With the challenge, I grew stronger, I became knowledgeable, my confidence increased. The challenge is trying your hand at something that you suck at.

Enter: the marathon.

Sure, I can challenge myself to lift heavier, to get stronger, and get more reps. But functionally speaking, why would I ever need to leg press more than 700lbs? to do dips with an additional 200lbs strapped around my waist? to row over 300? I’m not competing in a strong-man, I won’t be pulling any 18-wheelers. It’s time to develop a new set of physical skills. Don’t get me wrong, I’m going to keep lifting – I love the “holy shit, I just did that” feeling I get when I get a new PR too much…now I’m just going to get that from running a new max distance or keeping a quicker pace.

I'm going to become *gasp* a runner.

So what are you doing to challenge yourself?

Passion

(Warning, this isn’t a fitness post!)

Christmas day, my oldest - but not old! - sister, Brooke, and I were rolling the dough to make Grandma Shealy’s infamous monkey bread. Usually Eryn, my other sister, and Brooke do this while my brother-in-law and I gorge ourselves on his’s mom’s cheese ball. Eryn, sadly, couldn’t make it out for Christmas this year, so I stepped up and channeled my former baker to complete the task, which basically consisted of Brooke and me snickering over rolling dough balls…haha…balls. Yes, that Bevis and Butthead-esque back and forth went on for about an hour.

“So what’s your power word for 2012?” Brooke asked. I obviously had been playing too much Elder Scrolls: Skyrim recently, because that’s where I immediately went when I heard that question. “Your one word motto. What is it?”

In 2011, my word was “Proactive,” and that I was. At the end of 2010, I was frustrated with where my life was. I love Richmond, but I had stagnated, I had stopped developing as a person. I came across the DCGFFL, and signed up – making that commitment to come up to DC every weekend in order to meet and develop friendships with other masculine, athletic gay men (and ended up meeting some pretty awesome straights and lesbians, too!). About half way through the season, I decided that DC was where I needed to be. I became proactive about finding a job up here, and ended up doing so. Everything fell into place because I actively sought out the things I wanted and went after them. Some of them I got, others I didn’t, but the important thing is that I tried for them and if I hadn’t I would have always wondered.

After some thought – and a few more obvious “balls” comments – “Passion” came out. This coming year, I’m going to follow my passions. I’ll be growing this blog to a more developed site, I’ll expanding my physical repertoire to include running the Marine Corps Marathon in October (more on this later), learn to be a better cook, a better writer, a more versatile football player. I’m going to train harder & teach others to do the same. I’m going to be more involved with LBGT activism and with volunteering and fundraising for cancer research. For me, my passion is making myself the best person that I can, whether that be setting new personal records in the gym or positively affecting someone else’s life.

Following your passion makes you a happier person.

So what are your passions and what are you doing to pursue them? Take some time while things are slow at work this week (because let’s face it, nothing’s getting done until after New Year's) and figure out what you enjoy doing, what makes you happy.

Follow your passion.

Excuses

“I’m too tired”

“I don’t have the time”

“I’m too sore from yesterday”

Here, let me get you your passy and blankey.

Rationalizations and excuses are extremely powerful. It’s all too easy to make ourselves believe that we can’t do something, especially when we don’t necessarily want to. Any kind of body transformation requires a steadfast will – almost unbreakable – in order to be completely successful. It’ll require the strength to not give in to our innate ability to go the easy route and lay on our couch and completely veg out.

“I’m too tired”:

“A body at in motion will remain in motion unless an outside force acts upon it.” Thank you, Sir Isaac Newton. Who knew the 18th century physicist would be so spot on when it comes to the gym? The more consistently active you are, the more energy you’ll have in order to remain being active. The First Law of Motion also works in the other direction. “A body at rest will remain at rest…” The more you sit around and do nothing, the harder it is to actually get started. That outside force: your Drive. How much you want to achieve your goal. Is your Drive strong enough to get you off your couch after work? To get you out of bed an hour earlier? (Let’s be honest, me getting out of bed earlier will not be happening. If you know me, you know that there is an ongoing war between me and my alarm clock)

“I don’t have the time”:

You know that hour where you were catching up on the latest housewives? What about that 2 you spent playing video games? There ya go. Very few people are so pressed for time to not get outside and go for a run or hit the gym for some weight training. If you look hard enough and want it bad enough, you’ll find the time. Throw in the fact that you’ll extend your life expectancy by years by getting in shape; you really don’t have the time NOT to!

“I’m too sore from yesterday”:

If it’s not an actual injury and it’s just normal “I lifted hard and can feel it” soreness, then man – or woman - up. You shouldn’t be working that muscle group anyway the next day, that leaves a whole slew of other muscles to work that aren’t sore (that’s what she said). Stop your whining and get to it.

The next time you catch yourself trying to talk yourself out of going to work out or to allow yourself something you know is unhealthy take a step back and call yourself out on it. Refocus your Drive, steel your will, and stay true to the path.

Either that or I’ll make sure your bottle’s the right temperature.

Control

There are only two things that you have 100% control over: what you choose eat and what you decide to do with your time. Everything else relies, to some degree, on someone else.

For the majority of my life, even my time was spoken for. Whether it be by school, work, the administration or even family, I had very little free time. I chose to spend it playing video games, watching movies, and otherwise being lazy.

I had been raised to value chivalry, say “please” and “thank you,” and to always do what I was told. The first two, I’m extremely thankful for, as they – for the most part – are a lost art. The last helped me while I was at VMI – or so I thought.

While I was in college, every. single. decision. was being made for me. Where to be and when, what to wear, even my grooming habits. In hindsight, I appreciate the structure. At the time, I grew more and more agitated by it. So I rebelled the only way I knew how; with the one thing I had complete control over.

And so I ate.

Everything I was told not to growing up, I ate in obscene quantities. Not quite the most active way to rebel. It’s not like I’d go and intentionally break rules or bring someone home to meet mom that I know she’d disapprove of, but it’s what I did, and for me, it served its purpose.

I grew, not surprisingly, and as I did, I felt less and less in control. The one thing I did to demonstrate some sort of control in turn made me feel less in control. By my peak, I had just accepted that was who I was supposed to be. At graduation, I got pissed. I caught fire. I took control.

I changed what I ate from pizza and ice cream to chicken and veggies. I chose to go to the gym instead of playing video games. To go for a run instead of watching that 30 minutes of TV. I took back control of my life from the person I grew to despise - the (now) old me.

We always have the control to choose to live our lives healthier. To decide the better options for ourselves.

We are the results of our decisions.

Take control.

Drive

"300" Bill said to me as he was standing under the pullup bar.

"What? The movie? Awesomesauce, when are we watching it?"

"No, we're not leaving here until we each do 300 pullups."

"....waithuhwha?"

"shut up and get to it"

Bill was an amazing lifting partner, and I had the pleasure of working out with him during my stint in the very...industrial Allentown, PA. Yes, there's a Springsteen song about it. No, I didn't know that until I lived there...for a week.

Almost every day, Bill and I met after work and we lifted our hearts out. Our leg day motto was "squat till you puke," which luckily never happened to me. Obviously, I'm a slacker.

Bill was an amazing motivator. I came into the gym having already met my then goal of sub 10% body fat and was honestly aimless. It wasn't until I met him that I realized how clueless I was about lifting. My new goal: learn everything I could from him. He needed someone with a positive attitude and drive to improve, I needed someone to teach me and push me past my limits. It was a match made in weight room heaven.

When you spend so much time with a person, you learn what drives them. Not just for their physical goals, but professionally, personally, and even emotionally. Bill had a pure, internal motivation: to constantly push himself to become stronger, faster, bigger and leaner...to be the best he could possibly be.

Internal motivations are the best kind. They're pure and unwavering. External motivators have their purpose, and there is nothing wrong with them, but they tend to be temporary: Look good for summer, photoshoot coming up (the boys in the DCGFFL Calendar - which is raising money for scholarships for LBGT high school athletes - know what I'm talking about), or that reunion that's around the corner...these are all fine and good. With hard work and dedication, you'll achieve your goal. But what happens after that date? What will you work to achieve?

Bill instilled in me the want to always improve myself. Until then, I was driven by the externals, which is why I was wavering when I met him. I'd go to the gym, do my routine, and do decently, but I never achieved anything. My motivator - which was external - was complete. Now, I see that every lift session makes me stronger, every mile logged makes me faster, every healthy meal - leaner.

I'm on the path towards a better version of me.

So, what drives you?

A Swift, Pre-Holiday Season, Kick in the Ass

One of my favorite pre-holiday season articles.

Disclaimer: Not for the easily offended.

Merry Christmas, Bob
by Chris Shugart


"So, what are you doing for a living these days?" Bob asked me. We're sitting on the couch at one of those tedious holiday get-togethers, you know, the ones where you're supposed to be nice to family members you never see except during major holidays and funerals. I think Bob is my wife's brother-in-law's second cousin or something.

"I'm the assistant editor and a writer for Testosterone magazine," I say. Bob looks at me with a blank expression on his face, as if I'd just told him I sell handmade testicle warmers beside the freeway and was looking to open franchises across the nation.

"It's a bodybuilding magazine," I say.

Blank expression. Deer caught in the headlights. Ronnie Coleman doing trigonometry.

"Oh," Bob finally says, "I heard you were, like, one of those bodybuilder guys or something. So, what's that like, you know, working out every day and stuff? I just don't have time to lift weights all day, but I have been meaning to get rid of this beer belly." He takes another sip of beer. "What do you suggest?" Sip.

At first I was a little offended. I wanted to grab him up and say, "You can't tell I'm a bodybuilder?! Look at my ass! Now, if that's not a nice round squat-built piece of sirloin, I don't know what is! You think that comes naturally? I can crack walnuts with this puppy! Wanna see? Huh, punk? Do ya? Do ya?"

Then I realize this just might cause a scene and could cost me several Christmas presents. I was planning on returning any presents I got and using the money to buy a power rack, so I didn't want to jeopardize this gift getting opportunity. I also realized that old Bob probably had a certain preconceived image of a bodybuilder and I just didn't fit that image. I'm not gorilla huge; I weigh about 205 at 5'11" right now. (When I first started lifting I was a pudgy 159, so that's not too shabby.) Also, I wasn't wearing clown pants, a fluorescent string tank top, a hanky on my head and one of those little fanny packs. And isn't that what real bodybuilders are supposed to wear?

Bob continued to sit there drinking his Natural Light, smoking a cigarette and waiting for an answer, oblivious to the fact that he'd come this close to seeing some serious walnut- crunching ass power. I tried to figure out how I could explain to the average guy what the typical T-Man does and why he does it. How could I get him to understand what it is we do, how we feel, how we live? So I took a deep breath and told him something like this:

"Well, Bob, I guess you could use the term bodybuilder if you really need a label for what it is we do. Most of us actually don't stand on stage and compete, though. We lift weights and manipulate our diets so that we'll look good naked. Sure, it's healthy too, and we'll probably live a longer and more productive life than the average guy, but mostly it's about the naked thing. Truthfully, it goes beyond even that.

"Let's be honest here. We do it because of people like you, Bob. We look at you sitting there with your gut hanging over your belt and we watch you grunt and groan just getting out of a chair. Guys like you are our inspiration, Bob. You're better than Anthony Robbins, Bill Phillips, Deepak Chopra, and Zig fucking Ziglar all wrapped up into one. We love it when guys like you talk about not having time to exercise. Every time we see you munching on a bag of potato chips, you inspire us. You're my shot in the arm, Bob, my living and breathing wake-up call, my own personal success coach.

"You want to know what it is we do? We overcome. We're too busy to train, too, but we overcome. We're too busy to prepare healthy meals and eat them five or six times a day, but we overcome. We can't always afford supplements, our genetics aren't perfect, and we don't always feel like going to the gym. Some of us used to be just like you, Bob, but guess what? We've overcome.

"We like to watch 'normal' people like you tell us about how they can't get in shape. We smile and nod sympathetically like we feel your pain, but actually, we're thinking that you're a pathetic piece of shit that needs to grow a spine and join a gym. You smile sheepishly and say that you just can't stay motivated and just can't stand that feeling of being sore. (For some reason you think that admitting your weaknesses somehow justifies them.) We listen to you bitch and moan. We watch you look for the easy way out. Because of people like you, Bob, we never miss a workout.

"You ask us for advice about diet and training and usually we politely offer some guidance, but deep inside we know you won't take our advice. You know that too. We smile and say, 'Hope that helps. Good luck,' but actually we're thinking, 'Boy, it would suck to be you.' We know that 99% of people won't listen to us. Once they hear that it takes hard work, sacrifice and discipline, they stop listening and tune us out.

"We know they wanted us to say that building a great body is easy, but it just isn't. This did not take five minutes a day on a TorsoTrack. We did not get this way in 12 short weeks using a Bowflex and the Suzanne Somers' 'Get Skinny' diet. A good body does not cost five easy payments of $39.95.

"We like it that while you're eating a candy bar and drinking Mountain Dew, we're sucking down a protein shake. You see, that makes it taste even better to us. While you're asleep we're either getting up early or staying up late, hitting the iron, pushing ourselves, learning, succeeding and failing and rising above the norm with every rep. Can you feel that, Bob? Can you relate? No? Good. This wouldn't be half as fun if you could.

"We do it because we absolutely and totally get off on it. We do it because people like you, Bob, either can't or won't. We do it because what we do in the gym transfers over into the rest of our lives and changes us, physically, mentally, maybe even spiritually. We do it because it beats watching fishing and golf on TV. By the way, do you know what it's like to turn the head of a beautiful woman because of the way you're built? It feels good, Bob. Damned good.

"When we're in the gym, we're in this indescribable euphoria zone. It's a feeling of being on, of being completely alive and aware. If you haven't been there, then it's like trying to describe color to a person who's been blind since birth. Within this haze of pleasure and pain, there's knowledge and power, self-discipline and self-reliance. If you do it long enough, Bob, there's even enlightenment. Sometimes, the answers to questions you didn't even know you had are sitting there on those rubber mats, wrapped up in a neat package of iron plates and bars.

"Want to lose that beer belly, Bob? I have a nutty idea. Put down the fucking beer. I'll tell you what, Bob. Christmas morning I'm getting up real early and hitting the iron. I want to watch my daughter open her presents and spend the whole day with her, so this is the only time I have to train. The gym will be closed, so I'm going out in my garage to workout. You be at my house at six in the morning, okay? I'll be glad to help you get started on a weight training program. It'll be colder than Hillary Clinton's coochie in there, so dress warm.

"But let me tell you something, Bob. If you don't show up, don't bother asking me again. And don't you ever sit there and let me hear you bitch about your beer belly again. This is your chance, your big opportunity to break out of that rut. If you don't show up, Bob, you've learned a very important lesson about yourself, haven't you? You won't like that lesson.

"You won't like that feeling in the pit of your stomach either or that taste in your mouth. It will taste worse than defeat, Bob. Defeat tastes pretty goddamned nasty, but what you'll be experiencing will be much worse. It will be the knowledge that you're weak, mentally and physically. What's worse is that you'll have accepted that feeling. The feeling will always be with you. In the happiest moments of your life, it'll be there, lying under the surface like a malignant tumor. Ignore it at your own peril, Bob.

"Don't look at me like that either. This just may be the best Christmas present you'll get this year. Next Christmas, Bob, when I see you again, I'm going to be a little bigger, a little stronger, and a little leaner. What will you be? Will you still be making excuses? This is a gift, Bob, from me to you. I'm giving you the chance to look fate in those pretty eyes of hers and say, 'Step off, bitch. This is my party and you're not invited.' What do you say, Bob? Monday, Christmas morning, 6am, my house. The ball's in your court."

Okay, so maybe that's not the exact words I used with Bob, but you get the picture. Will Bob show up Monday? I don't know, but I kind of doubt it. In fact, Bob will probably take me off his Christmas card list. He probably thinks I've got "too much Testosterone," like that's a bad thing. I think Bob is just stuck in a rut, and as the saying goes, the only difference between a rut and a grave is depth.

The way out of the rut is to make major changes in your life, most of which won't be too pleasant in the beginning. The opportunity to make those changes seldom comes as bluntly as I put it to Bob. Most of the time, that opportunity knocks very softly. What I did was basically give Bob a verbal slap in the face. You can react two ways to a slap. You can get angry at the person doing the slapping, or you can realize that he was just trying to get you to wake up and focus on what you really want and, more importantly, what it'll take to get it.

If you're a regular T-mag reader, I doubt you need to be called out like Bob. But maybe you've caught yourself slacking a little here lately. Maybe you've missed a few workouts or maybe you started a little too early on the usual holiday feasting, like, say, back in September. Just remember that the time to start working on that summer body is now. The time to get rid of those bad habits that hold you back in the gym is now. You want to look totally different by next Christmas? Start now. This isn't because of the holidays or any corny New Year's resolutions either. The best time is always now.

Christmas day I want you to enjoy being with your family and friends. I want you to open presents, sip a little eggnog and have a good meal. But if your regularily scheduled workout happens to fall on December 25th, what will you be doing at six o'clock that morning?

That's what separates us from guys like Bob.

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