It Takes a Dumbbell to Know One

It's the Fourth of July season, that time of year Americans celebrate
their priceless independence. Let freedom ring, liberty to all, every
man and woman is created equal. These cherished values are not to be
scoffed, taken for granted or compromised. They are to be revered, if
not worshiped.

I'm a bona fide daydreamer, made in the USA. I occasionally envision a
community, if not the land of the free, where each of us is
responsible for our own health and strength, a community that
regularly exercises and eats right, as opposed to slothing about and
completely abusing itself. This same community then carries on its
business with the traits established by such unremarkable, yet
absolutely incredible and admirable behavior. I see energy and action,
harmony and order, appreciation and goodness and agreeability in
disagreeing. I see self-respect and confidence, honor and pride and
humility.

Herein the roots of true freedom are established and grown.

I also dream of stacks of hundreds stashed in my sock drawer or being
stalked by starlets and beauty queens, cheerleaders and calendar girls
and roving mobs of naked women. Scuz me, got a little carried away
there.

Life's a struggle. We're entitled to dream.

Earlier this week I went to the gym at the same time the
record-breaking California sun was cooking the gym's rooftop. I
loosened the body of its stiffness with a variety of pulley movements
and slowly engaged the muscles. I'm one of those marvels who enters
the gym a small train wreck (perhaps, you can identify) and, after
stretching out and warming up, becomes a large train wreck disguised
as an Iron Horse pulling endless steel cars with great exertion. I
build momentum, unloose a few endorphins, accumulate sufficient
determination, revive some inspiring old memories, ignore the fading
pain and unleash traces of calcified energy, endurance and might.

Kachunk, kachunk, hiss, kachunk, kachunk, hiss... faster... Kachunk,
kachunk, hiss...

And then there's the distinct lurch to the length of cars, as I gasp
and pant and bend forward in slow motion. Are you still with me? Have
I lost the whackos who can relate? Have I embarrassed myself once
again with my training madness and revelation of my moronic
misbehavior over the internet? Am I alone? No. I still have a few
followers (they're wearing white jackets), but it's getting lonely.

Well, to continue my torrid tale, I dragged my warmed-up -- now hot
and wilted -- body around the gym like I was its drill instructor. My
previous two workouts were of the two-step-back variety and I was not
going for three. Three steps back and you fall on your butt, never to
rise again. Ever! You're done. It's over. They put you in a bag and
haul you away. Where's Draper? Gone. The dumps!

Aware I was lifting weights amid a scorching July 4th holiday, a
statement of considerable training devotion in itself, I agreed
training slowly was permissible. The sets and reps and iron hung in
the thick sultry air. I sweated and strained and steamed and stared.
Going slow bore penalties, of course; thou must perform extra sets.
It's the law. Three sets of one-arm dumbbell rows were willfully
designated.

It was at the last half of the final set of six reps that I felt the
earth go soft. Six reps to go, no way shall I end the rout with only
six reps to go. It's a rule. What would they think?

Don't ask me who "they" are... okay, so I invent an imaginary audience
when the going gets tough.

I pulled six good reps and with each rep knew it was a mistake, a big
mistake. I let the dumbbell go and went to the floor on one knee, a
hand on the rack and a hand on the dumbbell. I was as dark and still
as night; movement was impossible, intolerable and unthinkable.
Thought as I know it ceased, replaced by moment-to-moment grasping for
survival. I could breathe, but only with caution and will. I could
see, but dared not focus. My world went around and around, dark and
vague, yet real and near.

I was in a battle for survival like I've never known. Overheated,
oxygen starved, system malfunctioning. With each spent second I groped
for the next. Wholeness and sanity would return (I was not convinced),
but it was far off. Three minutes -- I held on to time -- and I was in
deep getting deeper. The gym was next to empty and two young guys were
in my shadowy peripheral vision. A long time kneeling and hanging onto
a rack, lifeless. Should I call out? Could I? Was it pride that
prevented me from seeking help? Ignorance? Incapacity? What would I
say, what could they do? Oxygen, paramedic, water, cool air? I almost
threw up and fought to contain myself.

Five minutes and I began to believe I could make it, and not on my own
strength. God never leaves my side, nor did my request cease for his
sure strength as the moments slowly flashed by. One of the guys came
over after 15 minutes of impossible stillness.

"You okay, Dave?"

"Yeah, I over did it on my last set. I'll be alright." That was an
effort.

"Just let me know if you need anything."

I could speak. I felt assurance in my friend's presence. Movement is
next. To a bench, to another bench and another, till I secure my gym
bag near the rear door and breathe some cool air. It's 30 minutes
before the dedicated steps are accomplished and I'm alive as I know
living. The gym is deserted, except for the guy at the counter
stacking paper cups.

Sitting is good; no false moves, continued thanksgiving and grasping
for stability and soundness, and, lo, reality returns. Can I drive?
Yes, after careful consideration and a test drive. I'm home in 15
streamlined minutes. Moral to the story: One more rep can be your last
rep, Bomber. It is one gruesome place on the other side of smart, good
and safe. Don't go there, you might not come back.

Days later I still feel fuzzy.

You think that was funny; here are a few more chuckles I'd like to
pass your way (they're cute reminders, really, and they serve to
preface my closing thoughts). Energy is being expended like it was
free and endless, and the price of gas has gone up like smoke. The
cost of shipping and shipping materials has increased. Drought is
killing the farmer and his crops, cattle and cows. There's a war
against a godless enemy who believes good is evil and evil is good.
Great sums of money are spent building bridges to nowhere and Congress
just voted itself a $4,500 pay raise. There are floods, hurricanes,
disease and relief. Poor Africa, God help her and our own security and
borders and people.

Did you get your new iPhone, BTW? ;>)

Last but not least, the production cost of milk and milk by-products
have become scarce. The main ingredients for Bomber Blend are whey and
casein. These have doubled (Doubled) in price this month and are hard
to come by. Everyone feels the effect, from farmer to processor to
food manufacturer to wholesaler to retailer to consumer. Hello, high
flying bombers.

We have stalled for months in raising our Bomber Blend price, but the
time has come when stalling is falling out of the sky. This is what
Laree and I must do.

davedraper.com/url/whey-prices.php

Our wings were made for flying, bombers, and that's what we're gonna
do. Though pruning them in the shade has a calming effect -- very
nurturing. Gliding's fun. Ever try gliding... whoosh, whoosh?

Stay cool, don't drool... Draper

FREE AND UNOPPRESSED

231 years after establishing and demanding freedom and independence,
we forget we were once oppressed, and in doing so lead ourselves into
personal imprisonment. Woe to the apathetic and lawless and
uncompassionate.

I'd like to believe we're all trying, but too many are sitting back
assuming someone else will secure our freedom for us. After all, that
is freedom, is it not? Not even close; freedom is not free. Freedom
requires awareness and vigilance, contribution and appreciation, and
self-evident commonsense. Politicians, activists, gangsters and mobs
have known this and taken advantage of it for a long time. Of course,
I won't get into that hornet's nest. It's too sunny and breezy for
such prickly activity.

Instead, feel free to take five minutes. They're yours. Stray from the
norm and be lifted up. Review what the fourth of July celebrates, how
we got here, America, and why:

archives.gov/national-archives-experience/charters/declaration.html

These were the early strongmen hoisting the inestimable weight we must
continue to carry. No gyms, none. Just iron will.

Yeah, I'm full of wisdom. Just one more rep... still dizzy.

Source: davedraper.com