It Is A Nine Iron Into the Green

The time 11:45. No way am I going to make Spin Class, so settle down and put one down the pipe.
I tee it up looking at the tight chute known as the number 18th fairway at Helfrich Hills.
I close the club face, the ball lands within 110 yards of the green.
It is an elevated green, add 10 yards, it feels perfect, I hit the sweetest nine iron directly at the pin.
The ball rests about 10 feet above the pin and the green is canted crazily forward.
Even a soft tap could send the ball off the green, I am putting for a birdie, I am missing spin class, I want to walk away with at least a par, speed will be critical, the earth is turning at 1000 miles an hour, the wind out of the west, the grain against me, what if I get the "Yips" I try to “clear the machine”.
It looks straight in, the green is dry, fast and badly slanted (I am sure spin class has started) I tap the ball, very lightly, it is moving picking up speed, it looks like it is going in, suddenly jerks to the left by an inch and slides by the hole.
Bye, bye Birdie, a great musical but a lousy golf shot.
The next putt, up hill, about two feet and I just slam it into the back of the cup, par.
It feels good but spin class is in progress, I sprint to the car, load up and head to the gym.
The spinners are descending the stair as I arrive; sweat pouring off of glistening foreheads, arms, legs.
“Where were you, one of the spinners chastises, we just finished and it was all intervals, hard, Sparta handed off to “Mel-an-nee”, good class, too bad you missed”, yeah I thought, the Birdie and Spin.
Anyway, I am in gym clothes, I am not anxious to lift but if I get started I know it will be almost as sweet as the nine iron.
“What do you want to do today”, I mentally say to myself as I picture a golf ball softly landing 1 foot below the pin, a sure Birdie.
Yeah, but why settle for a little Birdie when an Eagle might be hiding in the iron of the gym and just as suddenly my mind is off, “Spinning” new images of golf balls dropping for Birds, Eagles and Hole-In-Ones.

The Smith Machine

Welcome to humiliation.
“What is the routine today”, the usual question from Sparta on training day.
“I need to do chest”, said I with unusual confidence. I have been feeling really comfortable with the free weights in the last few weeks.
Did she read my attitude or was it just time to show me how far I have to go?
“Lets go to the Smith Machine for some barbell incline bench presses”.
She loads the machine, two twenty-five pound plates per side; I am chuckling inside thinking no sweat.
I begin the activity, 10 reps and I am fighting hard to get the last one.
“Breathe” as she loads on more weight.
“I am humiliated,” I say.
“You want me to put on two of the large plates so it will look better?”
I don’t want to play the fool so I say, “no this is fine”.
More presses, hard, more weight, harder and now she is assisting with each press, then press and hold while she removes some weight, press and hold then continue, it is no longer fun, it has become serious.
In my heart I know she will not let the weight drop on me and crush something I love, like my ribs but there is a nagging suspicion that I have crossed into a new dimension.
Finally it is over and we go to a new machine, this one she helps me push out and then I am to let it down very slowly, one----two-------three---------four---------five then push out. Here she assists.
Each time it gets harder and harder and no whimpering is allowed.
I look; gratefully my time is up.
I always go in thinking I am mastering this new discipline; then I meet the Smith Machine and two new ways to torture muscle.
I am sure I will die before I am introduced to all of the vicissitudes of this challenge.
I only wish Granny Smith had invented this machine instead of naming an apple.
Grandmas tend to be nicer.

Good and Evil

Every now and then I really mess up and watch a 24-hour news channel.
I don’t mean to, it just happens; the news flashes by, I become mesmerized; it is overpowering, it is hypnotic and it causes a “Ball of Sorrow” to grow inside of me until I feel like I am going to burst.
If you have seen the movie, The Fifth Element, you might understand exactly what I am talking about.
An alien person is exposed to all of the evil on this earth, wars, murders, man’s continued inhumanity to man and decides that the world and it’s inhabitants are not worth saving.
This same story was played out in Sodom and Gomorrah in a biblical account ages ago.
Tibet has struggled, Haiti struggles, Pakistan is wracked by disaster, China is in trouble, Russia is on fire, children are murdered, women have ears and noses cut off because they want equality, Al Qaeda wants to destroy anything that is different form their version of the world, the Pope calls the ordination of women the “worst sin in the church” while avoiding the issue of abuse and a the crimes against individuals and humanity.
The world seems beset by evil and people that pursue it for their own pleasure and “grandification” when it would be so much easier to just, I hate to say it as Rodney King said, “Can’ t we just love one another?”
This is something that comes down to us from history, “Love one another” and we need Rodney King to remind us?
Good is necessary to advance civilization but for now if the news and the headlines are any indication, we are going the wrong way.
Evil seems to be way ahead if you are keeping score or maybe the recounting of it is what sells commercials.
I for one am going back to the gym, the pain is pure, the motive is self help and the people, they are excellent role models and easy to “love”.
I wish the world could spend more time getting fit.

Grasshopper Goes To School

“My lift partner is out of town, would you like to sub for a few days”?
Whoa! What a question! Does a Lion like to eat raw meat, is 16 ounces equal to a pound, is the cube root of eight two, does light travel 6 trillion miles a year?
The answer to all of the questions including subbing, you bet.
I answered with some mild trepidation because I know lifting for Sparta is different than lifting for most; it is a serious business.
“But what the hell”, I have always secretly hoped to be asked to lift with the trainer and here it was, Christmas in July, Free Gin and Tonics, I just hope I don’t break something important like my ego or a long bone.
Day one, the question, “What do you want to do”?
I stammer about and finally decide on shoulders.
“Good I can do shoulders but lets add a twist, 10 sets of 10 reps in each exercise; a quick multiplication, 100 reps per exercise.
“Pick your weight with some caution”, good advice I was later to learn because once you pick a weight you never want to be forced to drop down to a lesser weight, in fact the unofficial rule says you are always allowed to increase the weight but never decrease the amount you are lifting.
This is worse than the rules of golf.
Shoulders went very fast as Sparta was in a hurry and had new clients coming in for training so we barely talked, I grunted and sweated and did the lifts as I became more and more sore and unsure if I could make it to the end.
Then, it was over, “See you on Friday, if you can”?
“I will be here”.
Friday rolls around and I am back, “We will do biceps and triceps”.
Same game, 10 sets with 10 reps for a total of 100 reps per each individual lift.
We start with Biceps curls, 100 reps, triceps pushdowns, 100 reps and on and on until we have completed five exercises and 500 reps; I could tell just looking at her that number one, she was not in a hurry today and number two, we were not finished.
She looked around the gym and I saw her eyes linger on the Dip Machine, “Let’s do 5 sets of full body weight dips, 10 reps.
Two things, at least it isn’t 10 sets, secondly I out weigh her by at least 60 to 80 pounds so I am disadvantaged; but I guess that isn’t her problem.
We complete the 5 sets, 50 reps total and I am reaching out to shake her hand but she looks pensive and finally says, “Let’s not leave 50 on the table, let’s finish with the last 50.
They were not deep, they were not pretty but as the last one tore even more muscle, I knew I had left nothing on the table.
Right fist in left palm, I bow, “Thank you Master, When lift partner number one returns school will be out but know, Grasshopper is learning".

It’s A “Sparty”

It has been awhile since I last updated the Blog, writers block, lack of material, laziness; who knows but now a story to tell.
The time is July and Sparta is having a birthday.
This usually prompts the group to begin planning a party; everyone likes a good party and the occasion is perfect.
(A question-how old is Sparta?
Hint- on my sixty third birthday we started Boot Camp with sixty-three jump squats, so when we were recently asked to start Boot Camp with thirty-two jump squats, maybe)
Sparta is consulted as to the best opportunity to get together; a time and date are set, the place, where else but Evansville’s most up scale Nouveau Fusion Restaurant (my interpretation of their menu), Bar Louie.
I first met this restaurant in Hyde Park (Chicago) and it never disappoints.
It is hot and we have elected to sit outside since the total count was approaching forty.
My wife and I were ten minutes late but arrived just as the guest of honor was strolling up, Sparta.
The dress (Sex and The City has come to Evansville) ranged from cocktail formal, midsummer attire, off the shoulder tops, Caribbean casual, western chic to blow your mind beautiful.
The mood festive in-spite of the heat and sweat and the beverages were stout.
The fare was from the small plates side of the menu; Hummus, Tabbouleh & Tzatziki, Chicken Nachos, Bruschetta Pomodoro, Tempura Shrimp along with multiple types of salad and tender Sashimi Tuna.

But the best, the card, the gift and the Carrot Cake,

The card, the creative work of Cheshire, was meant to be sung to the tune of “Wendy”, this was accomplished by a smiling Sparta and an uninhibited Deb from Oakland, the city not in California but Indiana.

The Carrot Cake (Sparta's favorite), a rousing rendition of Happy Birthday followed by a heart felt thanks from Sparta summed up the reason we all came; a birthday, a party, but even more, a time together for fun, friendship but most of all to fête a friend, mentor and teacher for her commitment to us. As I have said before, it is more than just a job for Sparta.

In closing I certainly hope we don’t have to wait another full year for this much "good times" and you all best be in Boot Camp Saturday.

The Lyrics

Who keeps an eye on all of her victims
Watching for our slightest mistake
Who’s coming in to demand more effort
Everyone knows it’s Sparta

Who’s counting down the punches you deliver
Snickering as we all grimace in pain
Who’s kicked our asses and caused us great soreness
Everyone knows it’s Sparta

And Sparta has stormy eyes
That lights up with each of our lies
And Sparta has guns that shock
And Abs that rock
(Abs that rock)

And Sparta will take no shit
She wants power with every hit
And Sparta will help you out
With screams and shouts
(With screams and shouts)

And everyone knows how much we love Sparta!

I Have To Set The Record Straight

If you have read past Blogs, it would seem that exercise is painful, difficult to accomplish and led by a merciless instructor.
Exercise is difficult, it is painful, it is demanding of muscle, joint and “mind”.
The instructor, not merciless but an expert, exhorting everyone to achieve levels of performance never achieved before, only achieved in dreams or remembered as past glories; always trying to keep everyone from injury.
It is each of us that have to decide to push ourselves to new limits.
You can stop, drink every few minutes, jump rope slowly, run slowly, lift the smaller weights, count two punches for each one, cut yourself short and in the end gain less than is possible.
Good exercise really demands each deciding to take themselves to the limit, to muscle failure, to breathlessness, to sweat loses, measured in pounds.
So when I hear people muttering about “how she killed them” I really want to congratulate them for “killing” themselves.
Over the past several years I have seen so many people change so much that even they themselves could not fail to notice it.
Whole supermarkets of fat have been lost; endurance has continued to improve even in the eldest.
So in summary exercise is like sin; it frequently hurts but it is usually a whole lot of fun.
Unlike sin, it doesn’t send you to hell just makes you feel like it for a few days.

It Is Great To Be Back

Vacations help clear the mind, reset the machinery.
It is a time to re-connect with family, to re-establish the love and ties that bind forever.
But, vacations extract a toll, travel, new diet, different sleep patterns, toward the end trying to find something to occupy the time.
So I really mean it when I say, “it is great to be back”; especially since I am a "creature" of habit.
That is what having OCD does to you.
I was able to return to Boot Camp on Saturday.
But then I always wonder, who missed me, who really “loves me”, do I really contribute?
Ammo sent a note, “Hope you are having fun with family, miss you”.
Fierce, “Where were you, missed you”.
“Mel-an-nee”, I "luv" her, she goes all out, 150%, “really missed you, glad you are back”, I am flattered.
Ambassador, “great to see you, come see my new house, I am ecstatic”.
Cheshire smiled, talked to me; that was welcome enough.
Judy and Elmo, always ready to smile, I felt their welcome.
Two weeks away, solidifies connections.
I could also tell that being away for two weeks, endurance changes quite a bit.
The class was held outside in the parking lot and included flipping a large tractor tire, laps, two jump rope stations, a crunch station, jump squats, over the head ball toss with a twelve pound weighted ball, farmers carry with kettle bells and several other stations; the class has gotten quite big and peaked out at 24 while I was on vacation.
The music was supplied by car speakers and kept the pace intense.
There were no rest stations and the circuit was completed three times.
Sparta, agitated, driving the class, demanding performance and sweat, yet no welcome back just a large club beating, until you quit or succeed.
I didn’t quit.
I knew I would soon see how bad it was; I was scheduled to train at the end of class.
Then a surprise, “I gave your training time away”.
Something inside got a lot smaller.
I felt terrible for the reaction but that is life.
I trained anyway, with some joy, the new participant didn’t show, but the pain came a lot faster and was much deeper.
Great to be back but adjusting, that will take longer than vacation.