Return of the Mac…Not Really…Just Happier Fat Guy
This was a text message I got from a friend last night:
What my friend alludes to is scientifically known as Magnus Stultus Animalium Masculum Industria, literal translation meaning Big Dumb Animal Male Energy or to the layman “Mojo”. A phenomenon widely introduced to the masses on screen way back in the 1990s from the great philosopher, international man of mystery, and super spy Austin Powers.
Point being, my previous post on “Sex, Life, Rock & Roll” discussed the new found motivation I possess from my recent interactions of a new female friend. She was a bit of spark which reminded me “will power”, “inspiration”, “impetus”, or notion of a “muse” are meaningless unless you take action. In and of themselves these terms for a moment of clarity are meaningless momentary synaptic triggers. They only take on meaning when you take those prompts and do something with them.
Momentum can only develop from action. Not in great big leaps, nor from looking six months from now. The starting point is here and now. Today in this moment I needed to take a tiny step forward. One step, then another step, and another. Eventually I will find myself sprinting. This is the law of nature.
Incremental steps over a long arc of time results in momentous benefits.
I woke up this morning at 4:30 am, something I haven’t done in over three years. I woke up with a sense of purpose, and worked out at 5:00 am. Today’s workout was another small step forward. Here is what I did:
“Trailhead”
5 minutes @ 5 incline 3 mph
1 minute @ 6 incline 3 mph
1 minute @ 7 incline 3 mph
1 minute @ 8 incline 3 mph
1 minute @ 9 incline 3 mph
1 minute @ 10 incline 3 mph
5 rounds of
20 air squats (focus on form and explosion out of the bottom)
20 wall push ups (focus on keeping my shoulders neutral and burn in my manboobs)
15 sit-ups (focus on raising from the abdominal and keeping my shoulder back)
2 minutes @ 6 incline 3 mph
1 minute @ 6 incline 5 mph
2 minutes @ 6 incline 3 mph
I turned on the David Brashears’ Imax documentary on the television, but turned the sound off. I set Spotify to the top 100 pop songs on Spotify. The bad pop songs of today just have the right tempo for working out, but serve no other value to humanity. I might secretly be a Bieliber. No, I’m not. I would rather attempt to stick my giant head into a condom then listen to Bieber.
The workout pushed my present physical capacity. I tried to run during the five rounds of work, but it felt more like waddling fast. It felt awful, my giant belly bouncing up and down. My thighs playing tennis with each side of gut. The compression shirt I had on top wasn’t tight enough, so my moobs bounced into my chin. Okay, I’m overstating the truth not the chin just the neck.
Regardless of how bad I felt physically, I pushed through and completed the workout. It felt pretty awesome to get a second workout in so quickly after my first one. Two workouts in three days is a win.
Moving my fat ass has already proven beneficial to my health. Two days after workout one my heart rate this morning was lower than it has been in a few weeks.
I took giant baby step towards regaining my sense of health. Moving my fat ass has already proven beneficial to my health. Two days after workout one my heart rate this morning was lower than it has been in a few weeks.
I use an app called Sleep Cycle. It logs the number of hours I spend in bed, among many other pieces of data which I’m sure they whore out to pharmaceutical companies. I don’t care, I like the app, and well…I am a bit of a whore.
Part of the morning routine after you wake up is to measure you heart rate. To measure your heart rate you place your index finger on the iPhone camera. Over the last couple of weeks my beats per minute exceed 70. This morning my heart rate was 62 beats per minute.
A little over a week ago, I was walking from my office to get a cup of coffee and I thought to myself “Am I just past the point where I can workout?” Unbelievable a number of days later I find I am motivated to get my fat ass moving.
Today, following a major jolt to the mojo I’ve taken two steps forward toward something I desperately desire…never ever having to special order my clothes…never ever having to fear restaurant booths…and never ever having my future wife explain to my future children why daddy died early.
