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A Cautionary Tale:
WHEN YOUR BREAKS DON’T WORK
FIX THEM..NOT YOUR HORN
To paraphrase George Bernard Shaw… Inside
of us all there are two opposing forces. One is logical,
one illogical. One is fed by reason, insight, willingness
to except the obvious for it own sake, unafraid of the uphill
path before him, seeing the truth for what it is, or as my
grandfather would say, ”good ole’ common horse
sense”. The other is fed by a seeming passion
to grasp at any straw that helps him hold on to his dream,
always looking for a secret, a shortcut, an easy path, unable
or unwilling to see or except the truth. These forces are
in a constant battle with each other. So, you ask, which
one will win the battle. The winner will always be … the
one you nurture, the one you feed.
Sitting in my office one day, around the
lunch hour, I was jostled from my near sleep state (us
old guys drop off from time to time) when a young man entered
or should I say "burst" in.
“I need help!” he almost shouted.
“Darn straight you do, and some manners
to boot, you trying to give an old man a heart attack?” |
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It was immediately apparent to me that the
young man before me was a gym rat of sorts. I guess it came
from my nearly 50 years involvement in the weight training
field myself, that and my constant addiction to MONK and CSI
on TV. Of course, the fact that he had on a T-shirt that read “Lift weights
or eat shit” was a pretty good indicator too.
“Calm down there young fellow, what
seems to be your urgent need?”
“I need your expertise, I need to pack on some size, and
I seem to have hit a wall, everyone says that you’re a
bit “nutty” but you seem to know the secret.”
“ Well nice to know people are referring me to others, what
with me being a NUT and all. I‘m not really nutty you know,
I have a PBS mind in an MTV world, is all”
“OH, no it is just that people
say your methods are strange.. You know what I mean.”
Oh Geezee I thought .. “Too many freaks
and not enough circuses”
“Well no son, I don’t, but I
think we might better leave this part of the conversation alone,
before all this nutty and strange stuff gets you in trouble.”
The young fellow went on to explain how he
had been “training” for
almost three years, and just wasn’t happy with his results.
He stated several times his desire to gain weight, and how all
his training was directed toward that purpose.
“But I really seem to be having a lot of difficulty packing
on some weight, that’s where I need your help. You know,
to find out the secret that the big guys use.”
I slowly nodded my head in agreement, and
all the while I silently thought to myself, Secret, dear Iron gods of Olympus
help me, don’t let me strangle this kid,… secrets
.. When will they learn?
He had with him some three tattered and worn notebooks, which
he said were his training journals, so I could get a good look
at his work. He seemed very proud of the fact that he had been
keeping records of a type, and that he could provide this valuable
insights into the workings of his struggles in pursuit of his
goal.
I asked him what program protocol he was
following and the exercises he utilized. He began to rattle
them off with all the skill of tobacco auctioneer. As he reached
his peak speed, two thoughts raced through my head, First: I sure hope this kids vocal
cords don’t explode, will be heard to explain to the EMS
guys.. Second: He may just have missed his calling, before
me was a natural at the auction circuit. That is if he could
keep from causing his lungs to explode.
I listened to his long winded explanation
of all the “High
Tec” training he was putting himself through as I thumbed
my way through his journals.
When he paused for a brief second to gulp down enough air to
hit the final stretch in his list of seemingly endless exercise,
I quickly took advantage to inject a question into this seemingly
endless parade of exercises.
“Does this train of thought have a
caboose?”
“What?” He looked totally confused
at this point.
‘Well to keep things simple and so this doesn’t
take until Jesus comes back, how long does this marathon of torture
take?”
“About three hours.”
“And how often?” I quickly injected
before his auctioneer mode kicked in again.
“Oh I can normally be out by 9p.m.
so three hours.”
“A session? Three hours per training session or
total per week?”
“Oh, per session of course, just like
the guys in the magazines, I start at 6p.m. and I am normally
finished up by 9p.m.”
“Hmmmmm I see, and how many of these “sessions” do
you subject yourself to a week?”
“Six.” he boomed back at me,
with obvious pride as he puffed out his massive 32 inch chest.
“Ah, you are aware there are seven days in a week, aren’t
you? What happen to day seven?” I snapped back, with what
I thought was very obvious sarcasm.
“Oh sure, I know how many days in a week, but I got to
get some rest, don’t want to over train you know.”
“Oh NO, Heaven forbid, you can’t have that, now
can we.” I was at my sarcastic best ,and yet it all
appeared to fall of deaf ears.
“NO, I can’t gain weight if I
over train.”
“Pardon me, but from what I am looking at, you don’t
seem to be gaining a lot from this training approach either,
now are you? That is unless you spent a few years in a concentration
camp I am not aware of”
“Well I am a bit thin, I guess you’d
say”
“Thin, my guess is I could open a beer
can on your knees.”
From the look in his eyes you’d have
thought he had just been kicked in the groin.
“Can I ask where you got this “super routine” you
follow?”
“Oh out of Muscle and Fiction of course,
it has a lot of articles about packing on mass.”
“And how much of this MASS have you “packed on”?”
“Well none .. Not yet.. But I’m
sticking to it. I am determined, I know if I stay with it results
will come, just takes time. I got a lot of heart as they say.”
“Time.. Heart… three years is a lot of time, don’t
you think? Heck you could pack muscle on an asthmatic parking
meter in three years. And as far as heart, you may have all the
heart you need but seems to this old man you have an equal
amount of rocks in your head. Three years with NO results isn‘t
a lack of heart , it is a waste of time, if you ask me. I am
sure your intentions are pure, but well.
I had a cousin once who had just as much
heart, and his intentions were pure too. And regardless, when
he jumped off the barn roof, with that Superman cape around
his neck, his arm was just as broken as if he had little or
none. Good intentions and desire, can often lead to outcomes
you may not really be happy with, if the path you choose leads
elsewhere.”
“Well, I have to stick to it if I expect it to work, don’t
I?”
“Look, whatever you name is, and by
the way .. What IS your name?”
‘Andy” was his immediate reply.
Ahh I thought that explains this whole thing,
I am in the middle of a rerun of an old Andy Hardy movie..
Only it isn’t in
black and white, and I can’t find the remote to turn the
darn thing off.
“Stop a minute Andy and think… you
have spent three years digging your self into a hole, what
is the first thing you need to do here?”
A curious look came over my new young friend,
almost as if he was in the middle of a deep and very “painful” process
totally new to him, it could have been mistaken by many as thought,
but then he cleared that up, when he spoke.
“Add some cleans or maybe a few more
sets of benches?”
“Oh my. You remind me of a sign I once saw in a small
car repair shop out in Tennessee. The sign was simple and to
the point. If we can’t fix your brakes, we’ll make
your horn louder.
Look, if you want to get out of a hole Andy,
the first thing you need to do is STOP digging. You don’t swap your shovel
for a bigger one, you exchange it for a ladder and get OUT. If
your breaks don‘t work, you need to FIX them for God‘s
sakes, not make the horn louder. ”
“Okay, okay .. so how do I get
out of this hole?”
I kicked back a bit in my chair, looked him
straight in the eye and gave him the single best advice he
could possibly receive. ‘Take
two weeks off Andy”
“WHAT? Take two weeks off? You’re
kidding right?”
“Why did you come in here today Andy?” I
asked receiving a very puzzled look.
“I came for help, for guidance, to find out what I wasn’t
doing right.” was Andy’s reply.
“And I just gave you the best possible
advice anyone could at the point you have reached.”
“But I need exercise to shock my body
into growth, I need to know how you get all the guys here so
big.”
“Read my lips Andy … REST.”
“But..”
“No buts, just do what the old man tells you.” came a sudden injection
of sanity into this situation.
We both turned toward the voice and the now open front door.
In the open door stood one of my clients. Actually he was blocking
the entire door opening with a very large and impressive frame.
Something that was not lost on my new and small friend Andy.
With a swift move forward, Mark entered the
office, and as he pasted by Andy again stated, “Listen
to him, if he says rest then rest, always has worked for me.”
Andy was obviously taken back by the size of the person walking
by him, and slowly nodded his head in agreement.
“Two weeks Andy, two weeks of total rest. Relax, eat good
and stay out of the gym. When you have accomplished this Herculean
feat, then come back, and we’ll set you up a simple and
result oriented routine.”
Mark paused as he passed my desk long enough
to comment on his physical well being. “I’m so damn sore ole’ man, wow,
what a great workout, and now I’m ready for more, what
say we build some muscle.”
“Gotta go to work Andy, need to put this young fellow
through his paces, see you in two weeks, okay? Now, rest, and
then we’ll solve all these problems you seem to have cultivated
over the past three years.”
Andy simply nodded his head in compliance with my request, and
moved toward the door. I knew he was still very confused, but
with some luck maybe we had accomplished one very critical thing,
maybe we had made him stop and THINK.
ONLY TIME WOULD TELL. Which of the items
broken would Andy “repair”?
Which force within him would he feed?
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