Jolly Holiday Mumbo Jumbo

We're up to our ears in good cheer, jingle bells and jolly, ho ho TV
ads featuring Wal-Mart, Macy's, Target, Penney's, K-Mart, Mervyn's,
Toyota, Ford, Chevy, GMC, Cadillac, Lexus and Honda for the entire
family, including those that bark, purr and tweet. Bursting plastic
snowmen are tethered to front yards and bulging Santas cling
precariously from rooftops, while a team of puffy reindeer dislodged
by winter winds dangle by an electric cord from a rooftop at the end
of the block. Animal rights activists have formed a small, non-violent
crowd.

What's this, a lone nativity scene sharing a patchy lawn with a
house-for-rent sign? Come all ye faithful.

We may be up to our ears, bombers, but we're not buried. Not yet.
That's what the final two weeks of 2007 are for -- incontrovertible,
indisputable, undeniable burial. Last-minute shopping, more wrapping,
the office party, Christmas Eve here and Christmas Day there, the old
year and the New Year and a candlelight vigil... all amid hard
training, plenty of rest and right eating. Yeah, right!

Training hard and eating right? Ha! Rest? What's that? You pause for a
moment, trying to recall the friendly faces at the gym, the sounds,
the feelings, the routine. Where is the old place anyhow, you wonder,
as a warm and comfortable flush comes over your body? Curls, presses,
the clang of plates and the rare unspoken bond you share with other
lifters dance through your head like gingerbread. The imaginings are
quickly replaced by a sense of loss and guilt, embarrassment and
disappointment and chubbiness.

Did I touch a nerve, Lardo? The gym, the place with the barbells and
benches... has it been a while? It's not too late. It's never too
late. Unless you're thinking of tomorrow, then it's too late. Do not
skip your workouts or smart eating another day, Chubs.

Till now your... umm... change of pace has sort of fit the festive
holiday spirits; it's excusable, forgivable and understandable. It is
what it is. Done! Time to grasp the iron with a year-end expression of
aggression and hail the New Year with supersonic commitment. Bomb it,
blast it... or, at least, contain the reckless excess and adorn a
stationary bike for five or ten, here and there... do some
commemorative curls and presses for old time's sake. Push ‘n pull, or
you'll forget how.

Of course, there are those who read my message and grin because they
never miss their training. They miss work, their anniversary, the
ferry, the target, alimony, child support and car payments, but there
they are astride the bench, wrists strapped, elbows wrapped and bar in
hand, on time, every time, eight days a week . "On three... one, two,
three...oooff!"

And who are you, might I ask?

Johnny One Note here with another zealous endorsement of rippling
muscles. Hold on to your rockets, boys and girls, we're off to the
dumbbell rack. You can't go wrong at the dumbbell rack. It's where the
iron lines up like silent soldiers, noble warriors, staunch
combatants. Or maybe they're weapons, implements of war, and we're the
honorable warriors. We're the ones engaged in battle, the good fight
for the freedom of health and strength and un-caged muscle.

Some call dumbbells -- those awesome fistfuls of cold, gravity-packed
steel -- defenders of life, guardians of honor and first-line
protectors against the encroaching enemy. The enemy appears in
numerous shapes and sizes, and the enemy is everywhere. A weak back is
man's obstinate foe, and a bulging belly and a jiggly butt are not far
behind. He hides in heavy breathing, a racing heart and struggling
lungs. Low self-esteem and poor disciplines join the cruel mob that
rob. Beware!

The compact hand-held implements are no less builders and developers,
artists and artisans. They make things, important things (strong backs
and flat stomachs, horseshoe triceps and baseball biceps), and they
make things happen (workouts rumble, muscles burn).

I stumbled upon dumbbells 55 years ago. I mistook them for toys (I
suffer from poor perception, among other things) and like an overgrown
kid, I've been playing with them ever since.

Here are my favorite five-star movements with the beloved devices. I
do these exercises regularly and, come to think of it, have for 50 of
those oddly-spent years. Those I don't do, I can't do because injury
frustrates their performance, or they are just plain flat and
undesirable.

Biceps:
~ Seated alternate curl
~ 20-degree incline curl
~ Standing thumbs-up curl

Triceps:
~ Two hand, one dumbbell, seated and back-supported, overhead triceps
extension, or the THODSABSOTE for short.
~ Lying triceps extension, both arms at once

Pec and delt region:
~ Any dumbbell press, from flat bench to 75 degrees
~ Flat bench and low incline fly
~ Bent-over lateral raise
~ Leaning, one-arm lateral raise -- before torso and behind torso

Back and lat region:
~ Stiffarm pullover
~ One-arm row
~ Deadlift
~ Shrug

You can do the whole musclebuilding job with these dumbbell exercises,
even legs by adding dumbbell-held squats, lunges and calf raises,
without leaving the general vicinity. But there's nothing like the
adjunct of accessory equipment -- racks, appropriate benches and cable
machines -- and the encouraging atmosphere of a good gym.

A good gym, you say, who can find one? There's an increasingly
perplexing problem. It's near impossible to find a place where we are
inspired to grab a pair of dumbbells and go hard, instincts and daring
our guides, desire and need our stimuli, that homey, homely corner
where we are bound to press on with resolve and intensity and a gritty
grin. Do girls have gritty grins?

How hard, how daring and how intense, that is the question. That you
press on is important, but there are too many variables for a single
answer.

Some days I have the urge and the energy and, once warmed up, I train
with all my might every rep, every set. Other days pain or injury or
lack of muscle-response cause me to seek another route to training
satisfaction -- focused and paced reps or limited exertion and range
of motion to stimulate and heal, or concentration on form in discovery
of a creative groove. Occasionally, it's very good to simply observe
yourself at three-quarter output and go home in one piece.

Certain exercises I take to failure with a groan of exhausted strength
-- all pressing, for example. Other exercises, including all pulling
exercises, I take to failure with the risk of overtraining, or
overloading a muscle or tendon or joint. Here I moderate my intensity
and approach maximum effort without risking damage. Finesse!

Some days my training methodology is modified to suit my multiple
needs -- enjoyment, change of pace, freedom from pressure, cowardice.
Stimulation and pace, feel and form take precedent over set-to-failure
output. Still, training intensity is strived for or maintained.

Mostly I become my partner in training and we talk things over as we
proceed. Intensity is always in the 8s and 9s, few 10s. If this
practice becomes wrong, hateful or angry, I back off. I don't enjoy
backing off.

For a simple and basic and straight forward subject, this lifting
stuff can sure get complicated. Sometimes it's good to lift and shut
up. That is, bombers, lift and keep your hatch shut.

Bombs away... DD

Merry Christmas, dear friends. Be joyful always.


Source: davedraper.com