“I can accept failure. Everyone fails at something. But I can’t accept not trying.”
DISCLAIMER: I spent the entire month of May smacked down by The Crud. An entire month. It’s awful, and also severely cut into my plan to follow the workouts and cooking and such. Towards the end of May, I didn’t do any kind of working out at all, it was too draining. I did manage a little before then, though, in between coughing my shoes up. And so, here is an abbrieviated experience for you.
(Now that I’m better, I’ll spend June working on my pull-up. After all, with summer coming, I need pretty shoulders and a rocking back to show off. Since the crud hit, I couldn’t find the energy to do much of anything, and my arms have gone soft. It’s totally gross. Definitely not Men’s Health worthy).
Here’s what I’ve found:
1) The target audience for Men’s Health Magazine is someone who LIVES at the gym.
2) This person who lives at the gym is preparing for an Apocalypse during which Superman will be unavailable, and He will be called upon to bear muscle and save the world.
3) Any and all nutrition is about feuling his bulging biceps, which he will need to save the world.
4) Oh, and he should look like a hipster while assuming his alter-ego.
That’s the gist.
There were actually so many workouts and workout add-in suggestions, I wasn’t sure I would have enough hours in the day. I mean, I only have 6 before I have to go pick up the kids.
So, I chose to alternate workouts.
This might mean I don’t actually achieve a pull-up.
Also? I’ve been in gyms a whole lot. Loads of different workouts. I am completely comfortable in the environment.
But I found myself incredibly intimidated by the weight room at the YMCA. I totally get now what it means to watch guys posture, and show off heavy sets. And the women that throw themselves in that mix? You have to maintain a resting bitch face and flexed muscles, just so you blend. Because you want to blend.
I stood out like a sore thumb.
This was not going to be fun.
But, dammit. I can’t learn to do a pull-up without doing a pull-up.
So, I sucked it up and put the eye-bullying in my periphery.
It helps that I’m reading Seat Of The Soul (as suggested by featured actor Michael B. Jordan, P.83). This book is a really intriguing read about our existence and self-evolution. I’m on the chapter regarding judgement of others. So, I’m evoking the idea of karma. These people must have been intimidated in another cycle of their soul.
Well, I’m still allowed to feel the effects. So, they still suck.
Maybe listening to “The World’s Most Relaxing Song” (P.22) will help calm the mind. Except that it really seems to threaten to put me into a trance, not an ass-kicking weight training one. Ten hours of spa music? Find me ten hours. Bet these gym rats have ten hours, those . . .grrr . . .
Yep, I still have a bit of a way to go in my soul’s evolution.
In between workouts, Men’s Health suggests taking advantage of the benefits in “small movements” used to increase overall strength (P.36). Although small, the first week I had done them consistantly four times a week, I found myself a bit more sore in funky places, but feeling strong. I think I will continue doing these after this experiment is over, because they are pretty easyto incorporate into my day, and they seem to be working (yay!).
I really wanted to take advantage of playing on some local obstacle courses, a la America Ninja Warrior (p.38), but then the Crud hit. And life sucked. With summer coming quick and my body finally on the mend, I’ll likely hit these up with my girls, who are obsessed with the show. Plus, you got to start them early. There’s college to pay for.
I’m having a fun time with some of the men’s products. Even though the Baxter Of California deodorant I’m using smells distinctly male (P.17), there’s a sort of comfort to it. It mixes well with the Blind Barber Sea Salt Spray (P.57), which coincidentally smells just like the cologne I just got Ray. We refer to it as, my “catnip”. The spray does work to tame my frizz, but really, I’m in it for the fragrance (plus, I purr all day while sporting that “just come from the beach” look).
I’m also using a lovely Sea Shampoo/Conditioner set from Verb (P.57). The smell and feel is unbelievably good and sexually ambiguous (I don’t want to end up smelling too “dude”). It delivers on increased volume to my already crazy mane of hair, which means doubling up on the catnip spray (again, not a bad thing).
As for the food aspect of the May edition of Men’s Health:
Ray: This pineapple drink is really good.
Me: Thanks! There’s cricket powder in there. . .
Ray: . . .Was really good.
The kids got a kick out of the bugs in their drink (P22). I figure you can’t really taste it in a smoothie, so why not add it in to up the protein?
We also had a night of incredible salmon (P.26) and not-so-incredible rutabega (p.72). I wanted to like it. I really did. But it was just a little too sinewy for me. Maybe I picked a bad one, I don’t know.
The Knockout Turkey Curry (P.78), however, delicious. That is all, just. MAKE IT.
I tried drinking up quite a bit of Yerba Mate tea, too, just to change up my caffeine intake (P.76). I like it better than green tea, plus it apparently has way more caffeine (when you are fighting The Crud, you need all the help you can get. I thought I would look it up, and Yerba Mate has a really cool international presence and drinking culture (who knew I could be so worldly?). I kept searching out articles, until I came across one that spoke of the correlation between Yerba Mate and cancer. More than one, actually. Although, if my source is Wikipedia, does that affect its validity?
Ahem. Okay, no thank you. I’ll take my chances with coffee.
In the end, although I feel a new kinship with Men’s Health Mag, I feel like it wasn’t given the attention it deserved, given the onset of the Crud. I’m going to try to work on some of the things in the June edition, though. Looking forward to what new things I can learn from the guys . . .
Ray: Why don’t you just ask me?
( . . .Too . . .many . . .responses . . .)
Me: Mwah. Love you.
And there’s my real bromance.