HM. I’m nearing my 10th anniversary of digging at the gym, which I typically call it, ‘Gym Class Heroes’ action. Generally confuses everyone, which is fine with me. I’m almost 39 years old, and I remember when I was 29 …
It was 2005. I was barreling down my dirty thirties. My co-workers and friends who were already in their 30’s were in the best shape of their lives. At least from my perspective. And here I was in the worst shape of my life. Now then, I was still killing burgers, brew, and quad-mochas like they were going out of style. I knew deep down I needed to take action then, or I’m doomed to fitness failure later in my life.
And I promised myself I wouldn’t be.
I don’t make promises that I don’t keep, especially to myself! I sought out assistance, and through a complicated, even longer story, I met up Ken Lipparelli. Or Big Kenny as the gym rats would call him. I approached with my fitness goals, and how I thought they could be met. He smiled with that tolerant yet you-clearly-don’t-know-what-you’re-doing look. I told him no holds barred, nothing is too much.
I was in for a treat!! I did everything he asked. I wouldn’t quit either, and I didn’t give up, but my body did. The next morning, every single muscle mush. I swear on a stack of Bibles that each one had been separated from the bone. I literally couldn’t bend my arms enough to put a fork to my face, wash myself in the shower, and more. Like wipe my own ass – don’t ask. I looked like a life-sized version of G.I. Joe action figures with the ‘bendable elbow’ and Kung-Fu grip.
It was ridiculous! My wife (at the time) actually took pity on me (rarity) She literally grabbed my wrist, lend against me to fold my arm back.
The next week, I met up with Kenny.
I asked him, practically crying, “What did you do to me?”
“Set up you and your body for the future,” he smiled.
“By killing me?”
He instructed, “Not at all. Muscle memory. You see there’s a thin membrane around each of your muscles. And muscles grow only from tiny tears being regrown as scar tissue. And now that I’ve broken you down to an elementary state, your muscles will never feel this excruciating kind of pain ever again. Trust me. You do still trust me, right?”
I begrudgingly agreed, “Yes.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you above your mumbling. Do you?”
I barked, “YES!”
… and sure enough, Kenny was right. Never felt that kind of pain once it dissipated. I continued to work out with a meal plan (proper fuel), and a regimented weight work so I could achieve 15” guns, broad shoulders, nice chest, and a V-shape to me.
Based on my gym observations, I submitted a word to Urban Dictionary dot com: January Joiner, February Failure. Basically a majority of folks have a NYE resolution to hit the gym! But they usually do so with no plan, no PT, and no specific goal other than to ‘lose weight’. So they tough it out for a month, and quit by February only to return the gym back to its sleepy ambiance.
I digress.
Long story made short [I can hear you cry, TOO LATE] I’m grateful to have pulled the trigger, and have kept digging years before I tattooed my leg up. It’s been 10 years, and let’s see if I can make it yet another 10 years!
This has been MY C Note.
‘los; out
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