Not a Fluke: A Series

I went to the doctor today. I'm just barely shy of the cusp of men who have to bend over and sing "Moon River" whenever they visit a MD. Mine was a followup for my moderately high blood pressure, thankfully sans the gratuitous rectal/prostate exam.

At the nurse screening, I stepped on the scale. It read 199. I'm still reeling from weighing in less than 200 pounds, so much so I assumed the scale at the gym was malfunctioning. Turns out it's not. I am a wisp of my former self.

She also took my blood pressure. Last checkup, my systolic (the top number) was around 150, my diastolic (the bottom) 65. The top number had my doctor all in a tizzy. I've been on quinapril for three years now and when he saw my 150 systolic, he doubled my dosage, ordered me to exercise, and eat less salt.

I did all that and today my blood pressure came in at a staggering 120/66. I don't think I've ever seen my doctor smile, but today he was all grins.

So was I.

I hit the gym again this afternoon. Lifting 185 eight times was also not a fluke. I only managed three reps of 195 though. I got a tetanus shot in my left arm, a flu shot in my right, so my upper shoulder region was unusually stiff and unresponsive.

That didn't keep the honnies away. Once again, scantily clad females harassed me on my way out to the truck. I'm going to have to start wearing bulky, saggy gym clothes to help ward them off better. If that's even possible which I seriously doubt.

The Price of Fitness

I benched eight reps of 185 yesterday. I had plateaued at five reps for weeks, but powered out eight fairly easily after a three day rest. I immediately slapped ten more pounds and did four reps of 195. I stepped on a scale at the end of my work out and did a double take; for the first time in a decade, I weigh less than 200 pounds. The scale said 199. Three months ago, it said 208.

All this raw, physical power I now wield has dramatically changed how I interact with the human race. For instance, when I was done benching 195, some hulking, tattooed punk looked at me cross-eyed. I said, “What the *@#$ are you lookin’ at?”

He looked down to the ground as he murmured, “Nothing sir.”

I flexed reflexively, nearly pushing over with my rippling sinews a passing gym-goer. I lowered my voice and said, “You’re damn right nothing. Now get the hell out of here.”

He scurried away as fast as he could before the shadow of my brawny physique.

A bit later, as I left the gym, a swarm of lingerie clad honnies mobbed me just outside the door. They begged me to come with them to an undisclosed location that they insisted contained lots of beer, a 50” HD TV, a video camera, and mirrored walls. I demurred, of course, but the honnies wouldn’t take no for an answer until I held up my left hand and displayed my wedding band.

They pouted as they left, to which I could only say, “Hate the game, babes, not the playa. Not the playa.”

I don’t enjoy intimidating roided-out punks or fending off the unsolicited advances of hot babes. But if that’s the price I must pay for being fit, then so be it.

No License for Badass in Texas

I benched consecutive sets of 175 today, eight reps the first set, only seven the second. This officially makes me hot s*%^ around the gym. I deal with my new prestige gracefully, with dignity, strutting about the gym floor (always within mirror reflection), my arms slightly bent, my elbows pointed out. I know the honnies dig muscly types like myself. They're drawn to me like Wifezilla is to Sawyer, the Kid Rock wannabe on Lost. They pretend not to stare at me but I know they sneak furtive glances. Dodge to their feint, I deliberately drop my towel and bend over to pick it up, all for their benefit. When I stand back up, I notice the gym honnies do a great job feigning disinterest. Most aren't even looking my way. But I know they looked. Oh yes, I know.

When I start doing reps of 185, I'm going to have to fend them off with my rolled up wife-beater shirt; sweat-logged, it's got surprising heft to it. It has occurred to me, as it must you as well gentle reader, that I might have to slow down my rapid strength gain until I'm better able to control the sheer power I'm harnessing; there's no licensing procedure for badass in the state of Texas. The public at large just has to trust that people like me responsibly manage the raw, carnal strength that we develop, mine directly from a strict regimen of power lifting, Mountain Dew, and Reese's Peanut Butter Cups.

Incline Bench Report: 145

After two days off from a slave-driver work schedule, I returned to the gym this afternoon ready to move weights around for small, controlled distances. As always, I began with incline bench. After a quick warm-up, I pumped out eight reps of 115. I moved up to 135 and lifted eight no problem. At 145, I did eight, but with some effort.

So Sunday, I plan to start at 135 and range up to 155. When I get started doing reps with 165, I'll go back and check my maximum regular bench weight. I'm hoping for something in the 215 to 225 range.

Incline Bench Press Unless . . .

When I strode into the gym today, I found some tool already "lifting" on my incline bench. Yes, mine. I made it clear to the gym owners that all gym equipment I use must be abandoned upon my entering the facilities. So I'll be having a talk with the manager later.

Since I couldn't start with incline, I loaded up a regular bench press. I've been focusing my free weight chest exercise exclusively with incline, so I haven't done regular bench since restarting my new regimen. I started with 135 and lifted it easily so I moved up to 155. I managed eight reps, though not effortlessly. Intrigued, I bumped up to 185. I did three reps, though I could have squeezed out more if I had a spotter. After that, the poser abandoned the incline press like he should have done when I first entered so I switched to that.

So that's pretty good progress. With a bit more iron pumping, I should be back to doing full reps with 185, which would in turn put my max at 210 plus. In the meantime though, I'm going to continue favoring incline over regular, at least until I'm happy with my upper chest and shoulder region.

Fitness 19

I joined a health club again. Not the Y, but Fitness 19. My complaint all along with the Y was that I was paying for service I never used, like basketball courts, swimming pools, aerobic classes, pilates, etc. Fitness 19 doesn't have any of that crap. They've got step, bike, and tred machines, free weights, and weight machines. And that's it. No less than I want, no more than I need.

The monthly price difference between the two is pronounced. I signed up with Fitness 19 for nothing down and $18 a month. The Y charges a $25 service fee and my monthly dues were around $65.

A few months back I vowed to get my weight down to 190 or so before I started lifting again. I chucked that out the door while in Minneapolis weeks back. My father-in-law bought Wifezilla and I passes to his club and we faithfully attended every day we were there. I got bored with just sweating to the step machine, so I started fooling around with the incline bench. The day I made a beeline for other free weights and I've been going steady on them ever since. I still do a cardio workout every other day, it's just not the sole focus of my new fitness regimen.

Unfortunately, I'm not losing any weight. In fact, I'm gaining. I was around 205 and now I'm at 207. Muscle weighs more than fat so lifting weights is going to nullify any weight loss plans I had. I knew when I prematurely started lifting again that I was essentially kissing 190 goodbye. A small price to pay I should think since I likely would have grown bored with just running or stepping and risked quitting exercise all together.

I haven't been doing any straight bench press since I've started lifting again. Instead, I'm doing only incline bench for my main upper body workout. I combine that with military press and some shoulder weight machines to better focus on the very top of my upper body. Once I'm happy with my shoulders and upper chest, I'll start working some straight bench press back into my routine.

This is all pie-in-the-sky during the summer. My concern is how consistent I'll be once school starts up again. I obviously won't be able to go everyday like I have been. My goal is to go Saturdays and Sundays and at least one other day in the middle of the week. Two if I'm feeling motivated. That would three to four times a week which would be great over the long haul.

I tell you though, I'm really going to miss my man-bosoms. Email me for a beautiful collection of Manziers, a wide assortment of colors and trim.