TEARS OF PERFECTION
Most of you know me as an asshole, as “brutally honest”, as “the guy who always spits it straight and tells it like it is”. Did you know I’m also the guy who sits here crying as I watch my clients top callouts at the shows?
Most of you know me as an asshole, as “brutally honest”, as “the guy who always spits it straight and tells it like it is”. Did you know I’m also the guy who sits here crying as I watch my clients top callouts at the shows?
I laughed at the Planet Fitness commercials. And then I remember Rand’s warning: “Kill by laughter. Laughter is an instrument of human joy. Learn to use it as a weapon of destruction. Turn it into a sneer.”
I am tired, but I look at the clock, and I count the minutes—not in misery, not in suffering, but in honor of a small goal accomplished. One minute down, only fifty-nine left; two minutes down, a mere fifty-eight left. The minutes pass one at a time. Nothing can speed them up. So my stride remains steady and true.
Some people simply wait for answers to fall from the sky and land on top of them. They don’t realize, nobody is going to give them that divine inspiration or leadership; there is no mystic force that is going to help them shuffle their feet from their current station towards their goal. Life doesn’t come with a handbook or a blueprint.
I searched the land far and wide for an appropriate queen. An African goddess—what else could possibly fit the bill? With golden skin and piercing eyes, and a similar love and passion for this world. A smile that fills the room, and flesh that tastes like melted caramel…
For anybody who has ever prepped successfully for a physique competition, you know that it pretty much takes your entire focus on a daily basis, just to be able to get through life and function. The combo of the training and the restrictive diet make it almost impossible to add in anything else demanding.
How many variations on a shaker cups do we really need? Is it such a complex piece of technology, so vital to one’s progress, that we require a minimum of four different companies willing to shell out multiple thousands of dollars, in order to show their new “innovative design”?
For those among you who compete, we all do it for different reasons. A personal challenge for some, or proving to the world that you can accomplish a Herculean task. A display of discipline and drive, focus and commitment.
As a trainer, you see a wide range of female clients. It gives you unique perspective into what the human body is capable of — physiologically of course, but more important here, audibly. An intimate insight into the sounds that men—but mostly women—might be making during times unseen. Shall we take a look ?
I have a friend who has a problem. She doesn’t know how to act. A strange syndrome: rationally, she knows what she should do—takes in the facts, processes them, integrates them—but there lies a disconnect between brain and body, between the thinking and the spirit that moves the flesh.
The average five-year-old child on the playground aspires to be: Superman, flying at freakish speed and saving the world; Wolverine, healing instantaneously & fighting villains; or a hero of real-world flesh and bone—LeBron James flying through the air, a scaled-down Superman in his own right. The honesty of youth recognizes the beauty of the superhero
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