My answer to all of this was to go to the gym, I ran 2 days a week and would work on a bench press machine, I did crunches, and I did dumbbells for my arms. I did everything I'd learned to do the fundamentals of body building.
My healthy diet and 1 hour a day, 5 days a week workout seemed to sustain my current physique.
It seemed I would never see myself in the kind of shape I wanted, at best I would work off what nutrition I consumed to get through my day. While I wasn't getting fatter I wasn't making any significant improvements. I simply did not have the kind of time required to keep my body in a constant state of improvement.
The big question was how do I quickly get my body into good shape.
In a wide search I found my best friend Shaunn had been doing P90X to get in better shape. I didn't have that kind of money nore could I do P90X in the same house as my wife and newborn.
The constant battle of balance never seemed to end, I wanted size in my arms, chest, back and legs, yet I want to rapidly loose fat, the two rarely coincide in the same plan.
Around this time another friend of mine stumbled onto a workout in Men's Health Magazine called The Spartacus Workout. It was examining this workout that made me realize what was missing from my routine.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Self pre-evalutaion
My first step was evaluating the damage, critically looking at my torso, arms and legs for the first time in a year I became very angry with how far I'd allowed myself to slip. Looking back in horror on my eating habits, even if I decided not to work out did I have to quadruple the suggested servings. I was fueling myself with gravy boats, cheese, and junk food with great excess. I was the walking garbage disposal and every amount crammed into the fridge and cabinets was devoured with great urgency by yours truly.
Well no more, even if I don't get the gym time like I want the eating is going to have to change. With an elevated sense of concern for my health I spoke to my wife (who is a hot Yoga instructor.) She was ecstatic that she wasn't the only nutrition conscious person in the house anymore.
It was a cold January in 2010, Obama had been in office for just over a yea, the news networks were making it a point to just how little change had happened. I dismissed all the negative vibes the world had to offer and set my mind to the new year. My son was due in February, I had just started my new job in the IT field, and I was determined to burn the tires off of my waste.
My first time running without being required to in more than 2 years. My goal was to adhere to the US Army standards for my age group and complete 2 miles in less than 16 minutes and 36 seconds. Within a mile I was profusely angry at myself I had absolutely no stamina, I charged through in the battle of my life my legs felt like I had climbed flight after flight of stairs. My heart was putting it's resume together, and there wasn't an ounce of blood to spare for my brain. I had to stop running, and turned around unbelievably frustrated I was not able to go beyond a mile and a half. It was at this point I pondered if it there was substantial medical evidence that running could spontaneously produce asthma.
I got back to the house, puzzled I could not run a mile without fear of taking an involuntary nap on the mean streets of Atlanta. The good news is at my rate of speed, if I would have finished I would have only failed by 3 minutes.
To further evaluate myself I stuck with the US Army standards and did pushups until I met muscle failure. Regulation gave me two entire minutes to complete as many as I could do. Luckily I only needed one to do all 49 until my arms gave out. Collapsing to the ground I took the opportunity to roll over and do 2 minutes of situps. I did surprisingly well for the first 40 seconds, I had managed to do a good 45 in just 45 seconds. I took the other 1 minute 20 seconds to crank out a very painful dozen situps.
I officially knew just how big of a piece of crap I was, 190 useless lbs of air pollution.
Well no more, even if I don't get the gym time like I want the eating is going to have to change. With an elevated sense of concern for my health I spoke to my wife (who is a hot Yoga instructor.) She was ecstatic that she wasn't the only nutrition conscious person in the house anymore.
It was a cold January in 2010, Obama had been in office for just over a yea, the news networks were making it a point to just how little change had happened. I dismissed all the negative vibes the world had to offer and set my mind to the new year. My son was due in February, I had just started my new job in the IT field, and I was determined to burn the tires off of my waste.
My first time running without being required to in more than 2 years. My goal was to adhere to the US Army standards for my age group and complete 2 miles in less than 16 minutes and 36 seconds. Within a mile I was profusely angry at myself I had absolutely no stamina, I charged through in the battle of my life my legs felt like I had climbed flight after flight of stairs. My heart was putting it's resume together, and there wasn't an ounce of blood to spare for my brain. I had to stop running, and turned around unbelievably frustrated I was not able to go beyond a mile and a half. It was at this point I pondered if it there was substantial medical evidence that running could spontaneously produce asthma.
I got back to the house, puzzled I could not run a mile without fear of taking an involuntary nap on the mean streets of Atlanta. The good news is at my rate of speed, if I would have finished I would have only failed by 3 minutes.
To further evaluate myself I stuck with the US Army standards and did pushups until I met muscle failure. Regulation gave me two entire minutes to complete as many as I could do. Luckily I only needed one to do all 49 until my arms gave out. Collapsing to the ground I took the opportunity to roll over and do 2 minutes of situps. I did surprisingly well for the first 40 seconds, I had managed to do a good 45 in just 45 seconds. I took the other 1 minute 20 seconds to crank out a very painful dozen situps.
I officially knew just how big of a piece of crap I was, 190 useless lbs of air pollution.
The demise and realization
Returning in March 2009 from a second tour overseas (Speicher aka Tikrit Iraq) I found myself in a state of complacency and my interest in exercising w
as nill. I wasn't (by definition) obese or what I considered fat, but absent were my life long aspirations of having a body comparable to and action film star (great in any light and from any angle.)
I was conscious and disappointed at my lack of motivation but not enough to do anything about it. I found myself using the national average BMI and the slovenly appearance of my successor generations as my opiate to numb my flaming mediocrity.
I maintained a pattern of overindulgence, eating and drinking with a sense it would all leave me one day. As 2009 came to an end I had the shoulders and chest of a sloth and a stomach larger than my 7 months pregnant wife. I resembled Fox's "Hank Hill" with four unremarkable sticks plugged into a marsh mellow.
Over the 2009 holidays my family and I were watching "X-men Origins Wolverine." My father recalled a time I had definition similar to Hugh Jackman. 22 Year old Dublin O exhibit A , exhibit B , exhibit C, exhibit D, Hugh Jackman 1.
I told him with a bit of work I could get back into that kind of shape and even better. He it was a virtual impossibility, with a newborn on the way and a new job I would simply not have time to dedicate.
My father is the one person who seems to know how to really push me whether I like it or not and his comment was just the boot I needed.
I considered it this it? Did I reach the pinnacle of my physique at 22? Am I now comfortably coasting towards a spare tire, with my appendages concealed within a mediocre layer of sedentary chunk.
Hugh Jackman was 40 when he took on a physique comparable to the steroid boosted over the top action heroes of the 80's.
The following day I pondered about what would be required, it was blatantly obvious I had to make several changes.
as nill. I wasn't (by definition) obese or what I considered fat, but absent were my life long aspirations of having a body comparable to and action film star (great in any light and from any angle.)
I was conscious and disappointed at my lack of motivation but not enough to do anything about it. I found myself using the national average BMI and the slovenly appearance of my successor generations as my opiate to numb my flaming mediocrity.
I maintained a pattern of overindulgence, eating and drinking with a sense it would all leave me one day. As 2009 came to an end I had the shoulders and chest of a sloth and a stomach larger than my 7 months pregnant wife. I resembled Fox's "Hank Hill" with four unremarkable sticks plugged into a marsh mellow.
Over the 2009 holidays my family and I were watching "X-men Origins Wolverine." My father recalled a time I had definition similar to Hugh Jackman. 22 Year old Dublin O exhibit A , exhibit B , exhibit C, exhibit D, Hugh Jackman 1.
I told him with a bit of work I could get back into that kind of shape and even better. He it was a virtual impossibility, with a newborn on the way and a new job I would simply not have time to dedicate.
My father is the one person who seems to know how to really push me whether I like it or not and his comment was just the boot I needed.
I considered it this it? Did I reach the pinnacle of my physique at 22? Am I now comfortably coasting towards a spare tire, with my appendages concealed within a mediocre layer of sedentary chunk.
Hugh Jackman was 40 when he took on a physique comparable to the steroid boosted over the top action heroes of the 80's.
The following day I pondered about what would be required, it was blatantly obvious I had to make several changes.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)