Yep, Kelly made my ass go to the gym from 2,400 or so miles away. Somehow she managed to guilt me into it because she needed a blog post. Fine. Here's your blog post.
Wanna know why I think staying home on my ass is a better idea?
I don't want to deal with people after work. I use more than my daily allotment of indoor voice and public manners by noon. The afternoons are somewhat sketchy and by the drive home I really wish I had that go-go-gadget arm coming out of the sunroof of my Jeep to move morons out of my way. So what's the problem? The problems are actually quite simple.
1. My job bores me. The highlight of my day is walking around the office checking thermostats because some selfish twat thinks the emails instructing us to leave them at 72 does not apply to her and therefore I find myself sweating in my seat. Bullshit, I agree. But sadly, no one where I work gets fired for blatantly disregarding instructions so I go off, I change them back, repeat. At least 3 times a day.
2. Hills. Uh? What? Yes. I said hills. You know, those things you go up and down while you are driving? There are A LOT of them out here and they seem to be very confusing. I get that the CA school system suck hairy balls but give me a break. You press the gas to go up. You let your foot off the gas (maybe) and go down. Oh hell no that is too simple. Its more like this: somehow your car magically gets to the top of the hell 30 mph under the speed limit then you stand on the brake all the way down. Why? I don't know why. What I do know is my 14 mile commute takes at least 45 minutes. When I work nights, I can do it in 20. Without speeding.
So by the time I get home I want to sit on my couch with a bully and bottle of wine. People can go to hell. I like bullies better.
But I went. And I knew when I walked in, I was gonna get more annoyed. It was hot. And crowded. I head off to the back corner to row. And both t-bars are being used. Sigh. Every squat rack has a body in it. One is being used, the other two I'll get to. I toss 16 forty-five pounds off a leg press and warm up waiting to row. About 5 minutes later, the guys walk way and I go row. Then I finish rowing. And I want to barbell row so I need a rack. Now. Problem is there are two douche bags of the non-Marine variety talking like junior high girls and did one set of super fast shrugs this whole time in the other two racks.
The following conversation then takes place:
Me: Are one of you almost done, I'd like to use the rack?
DB 1: Do we look done?
Me: Well, it looks like all you are doing is running your mouth.
I then clean DB 2's ridiculous 70 pounds and drop it on DB 1's rack then grabbed an empty bar. Sadly all that drama was for naught as my shoulder didn't really want to stay retracted so I could row. I did a few reps and walked off. Douche bags were still hanging in the rack when I left 45 minutes later.
I then got to strip weight off of every single machine I wanted to use. I make very pretty piles on the floor because I sure as fuck ain't re-racking weights all night. It was an otherwise uneventful evening. No particularly goofy looking people. No fools needing a bench to work jerk off muscles. Nothing really.
Oh, except that jackass that started doing kipping pull ups in the cage I was rowing in. Thinking next time I should yank his sweats off, you know, to get his attention and tell him I will beat his ass if he kicks me.
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Paige Fieldhouse - gym or comedy club?
It's been a while since I blogged on a regular basis - the CrossFit Chronicles to be exact and that ended like six months ago. I miss writing and now that I'm lifting on base again, there is way too much hilarity to keep it all to myself.
After CrossFit I went back to lifting on base for awhile but thought I wanted to go lift straight from work. Thought being the key word. So I joined the Y. It's on my way home, never was busy at 4:15 and it worked just fine for awhile. But it wasn't motivating. Teenagers annoy me. Cardio bunnies annoy me. Sitting around on equipment jabber jawing annoys me. And after dealing with all of that, plus a packed gym, plus old ladies curling 3 pounds at breakneck speed on every single bench and the dude with the 30 pound body bar in the squat rack, I snapped. No more. Fuck that. The atmosphere didn't inspire me. I leave work pissed off as it is, didn't need the added hassle. Time to start lifting on base again. Fine. 8pm workouts it is.
I went back Tuesday and instantly knew I made the right decision. The dirty, rusty, smelly, testosterone filled mess is far more inspiring. The place was packed but I was hitting back and knew the two t-bar set ups would be collecting dust in the back corner. I headed that way after a few sets of high rows to warm up. Empty as I suspected. Knocked that out, giggled at some child doing quarter squats and it was time to go to the mosh pit - that is what every one calls the cable area right? You know where the jackass tries to do kipping pull ups while there is someone doing cable cross overs and the 4 dudes cheer on the 1 dude swinging his whole body to curl? It's not a pretty scene over there but I had pull downs and rows to do. There are 2 cable row stations - one is occupied by 2 guys taking turns rowing, the other, 2 guys kneeling with 5 pound dumbbells. Alright, I gotta watch this so I settle in to do pulldowns. I get two sets done and realize they are doing wrist exercises. Palm up wrist curls, palm down wrist curls, change arms. REALLY? You need a bench for that. Wide grip pull downs done, close grip pull downs done. Now I really need to row. They gotta move. As hand gestures didn't seem to appropriately express that they needed to take that shit elsewhere I was forced to remove one of the Beats and suggest they prepare to jerk off on another bench. From the apparent level of muscle and malnourishment, I probably should have suggested cheeseburgers and dead lifts too.
Tonight a miracle happened. Yes, a true miracle. I was approached during my workout with a suggestion on how to do something better and did not flip the fuck out on the guy. Since developing the external rotation issue with my left shoulder getting under a bar to squat has been impossible. So I stopped trying for awhile to let it settle down. I couldn't even high bar squat with much success but it is time to ease back into it. So after destroying myself on the leg press to avoid any temptation of squatting a respectable weight, I set out to do my 3 sets of 10 empty bar squats. Set 1 required a full rack and reset after almost falling on my face two reps in but then finished successfully. That is when the guy in the next rack walked over and suggested lowering the bar for a better squat. I smiled, explained the situation and then he commented in that case I was doing awesome and went back to his rack. What saved his ass? While leg pressing I had taken notice of his insanely perfect front squat form with a few hundred pounds on the bar. Perfect form. Ass to ankles. This guy has a clue and needs to be remembered for future spotter potential.
The only major challenge of the evening was figuring out how to leave without busting out laughing while waddling like a duck as the exit was occupied by a cartoon character of a Marine. CC first caught my attention when I was on the hamstring curl machine. He's on the rehab style cable machine doing cable crossovers and looks HUGE. Little head, huge chest and arms. Like almost needs to go thru the door sideways huge. Now, all I am seeing is the waist up. Very important. Because when I get to the leg extension machine I need to adjust the ankle pad. As I am leaning forward I see the SMALLEST set of chicken calves I have ever seen. I look up. They are attached to the huge chest and arms. WTF?? This guy has never and I mean NEVER done a single leg exercise in his life. Its obvious he has tiny little quads. The body did not go. Nope. Not at all. Remember those create your own person coloring things we had as kids? Take this head, that top half, that lower half. Yea. Just like that gone wrong. I really don't know what to even say about that. Other than he was clearly not the dick that left 16 plates on the leg press before I got to it. (oh yea, those were thrown in a heap on each side, I don't rack some lazy asses weight)
I also learned if I ever want to use a stair mill, I gotta get on that shit before Zumba lets out and the frenzied run to get one happens - you all know sideways stepping on that builds a better ass than squatting right?
After CrossFit I went back to lifting on base for awhile but thought I wanted to go lift straight from work. Thought being the key word. So I joined the Y. It's on my way home, never was busy at 4:15 and it worked just fine for awhile. But it wasn't motivating. Teenagers annoy me. Cardio bunnies annoy me. Sitting around on equipment jabber jawing annoys me. And after dealing with all of that, plus a packed gym, plus old ladies curling 3 pounds at breakneck speed on every single bench and the dude with the 30 pound body bar in the squat rack, I snapped. No more. Fuck that. The atmosphere didn't inspire me. I leave work pissed off as it is, didn't need the added hassle. Time to start lifting on base again. Fine. 8pm workouts it is.
I went back Tuesday and instantly knew I made the right decision. The dirty, rusty, smelly, testosterone filled mess is far more inspiring. The place was packed but I was hitting back and knew the two t-bar set ups would be collecting dust in the back corner. I headed that way after a few sets of high rows to warm up. Empty as I suspected. Knocked that out, giggled at some child doing quarter squats and it was time to go to the mosh pit - that is what every one calls the cable area right? You know where the jackass tries to do kipping pull ups while there is someone doing cable cross overs and the 4 dudes cheer on the 1 dude swinging his whole body to curl? It's not a pretty scene over there but I had pull downs and rows to do. There are 2 cable row stations - one is occupied by 2 guys taking turns rowing, the other, 2 guys kneeling with 5 pound dumbbells. Alright, I gotta watch this so I settle in to do pulldowns. I get two sets done and realize they are doing wrist exercises. Palm up wrist curls, palm down wrist curls, change arms. REALLY? You need a bench for that. Wide grip pull downs done, close grip pull downs done. Now I really need to row. They gotta move. As hand gestures didn't seem to appropriately express that they needed to take that shit elsewhere I was forced to remove one of the Beats and suggest they prepare to jerk off on another bench. From the apparent level of muscle and malnourishment, I probably should have suggested cheeseburgers and dead lifts too.
Tonight a miracle happened. Yes, a true miracle. I was approached during my workout with a suggestion on how to do something better and did not flip the fuck out on the guy. Since developing the external rotation issue with my left shoulder getting under a bar to squat has been impossible. So I stopped trying for awhile to let it settle down. I couldn't even high bar squat with much success but it is time to ease back into it. So after destroying myself on the leg press to avoid any temptation of squatting a respectable weight, I set out to do my 3 sets of 10 empty bar squats. Set 1 required a full rack and reset after almost falling on my face two reps in but then finished successfully. That is when the guy in the next rack walked over and suggested lowering the bar for a better squat. I smiled, explained the situation and then he commented in that case I was doing awesome and went back to his rack. What saved his ass? While leg pressing I had taken notice of his insanely perfect front squat form with a few hundred pounds on the bar. Perfect form. Ass to ankles. This guy has a clue and needs to be remembered for future spotter potential.
The only major challenge of the evening was figuring out how to leave without busting out laughing while waddling like a duck as the exit was occupied by a cartoon character of a Marine. CC first caught my attention when I was on the hamstring curl machine. He's on the rehab style cable machine doing cable crossovers and looks HUGE. Little head, huge chest and arms. Like almost needs to go thru the door sideways huge. Now, all I am seeing is the waist up. Very important. Because when I get to the leg extension machine I need to adjust the ankle pad. As I am leaning forward I see the SMALLEST set of chicken calves I have ever seen. I look up. They are attached to the huge chest and arms. WTF?? This guy has never and I mean NEVER done a single leg exercise in his life. Its obvious he has tiny little quads. The body did not go. Nope. Not at all. Remember those create your own person coloring things we had as kids? Take this head, that top half, that lower half. Yea. Just like that gone wrong. I really don't know what to even say about that. Other than he was clearly not the dick that left 16 plates on the leg press before I got to it. (oh yea, those were thrown in a heap on each side, I don't rack some lazy asses weight)
I also learned if I ever want to use a stair mill, I gotta get on that shit before Zumba lets out and the frenzied run to get one happens - you all know sideways stepping on that builds a better ass than squatting right?
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