Attitude and Altitude, Higher and Higher‏

Draper here... Attitude and Altitude -- Higher and Higher

I'm a very busy person and my plate is full. Full of crumbs, that is. Perhaps if I scrape them together there'll bea sufficient heap of stuff to get me to the gym. Each crumb is aremnant of responsibility, need, desire, discipline and obligation,with a few flecks of inspiration along the edges. What's this? Yuk, amorsel of guilt. Trouble is, I don't have an appetite. However, I do have excuses: The gym is 30 minutes down the road, thetruck's dirty and the traffic stinks; it's cold, windy and greyoutside and my favorite T-shirt's in the washer; there's a newsletterto write and Mug's is curled up on my lap, purring. I'll go to the gym tomorrow. Crazy!

There was a time 50 years ago I had nothing I'd rather do thango to the gym! 40 years ago contests were coming up... off to the gym.30 years ago I ran the juice bar in the gym. 20 years ago I owned thegym. 15 years ago the gym owned me. 10 years ago I morphed into theBomber writing tales about the gym. Boom-Zoom. Today, "I'll go to the gym tomorrow." I don't think so.

I've heard rumors of people who did the ‘I'll-go-tomorrow' act andhaven't been seen or heard of since. Story goes they stepped too farfrom the pull of gravity and drifted into the worldly wastelands. Lifein the world minus the tug of iron is oft pointless and demoralizing;fattening and enfeebling. I exaggerate. It's not as if postponing a workout and your biceps shrivel up like prunes or your obliques hang down in gushy slabs overyour beltline or your butt wobbles and sags.

The absence of one training session does not result in the deterioration of your hard-earned musculature. It's scientifically impossible. Calm down,lighten up. Two workouts without the iron, however, and you're in big trouble;bloating, drooping and drooling are inevitable. Three and it's toolate, delirium and bed-wetting are not uncommon. Four, you're tabloid headlines... cute photos. And five, they forget your name; you becomea tube-fed number and are assigned a cot in Ward X. Dave who... the what? Never heard of him. I don't care if it's all in my mind. I miss a workout and I'm overcomewith anger, guilt and irrational behavior. I'm bitter and cruel oneminute and pouty and sad the next.

I pull on a baggy sweatshirt onlyto rip it off and replace it with a size-small black tanktop with I'm Bad slashed in red across the back. Laree says, "Hi, sweetheart." I say, "Don't start with me, wise-o." Later I say, "Do I look fat, honeybunny?" Then, I'm in the bathroom crying for no reason.

Laree, kettlebells in hand and pulling a weighted sled up the hill,just shakes her head and smiles when I'm bewildered and overcome with confusion grief. She hugs me and says with inevitability, "Have a smashing workout, ya crazy lug." She seats me in the pickup, aims itdown the hill, releases the emergency brake and I'm off to that place where the iron waits. What a trip.

I do not like to skip my workouts. I cannot afford to. Time is short.I only have 60 years invested in the action-packed sport, the first six or seven wasted on tag, kickball and the alphabet. Time is of the essence. Time is muscle. Time flys. Timeout for a shot of Bomber Blend. Yummy, Yummy, Good for your tummy... and good for your muscles, too.

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We're told when lifting the iron is no longer appealing, when we'drather be changing a greasy truck transmission or undergoing a liver transplant, it's not the workout that's out of order, it's theattitude toward it. Iron is iron, it's lifeless. We, you and I who live and lift, are the problems, the troubled, the weak, the lost. Gee, thanks for the head trip. Another heavy load to carry, as if themetal wasn't enough. So now what? Attitudes are not fashionable or transformable like colorful balloons in the white-gloved hands of a party clown -- blow them up, stretchthem here, twist them there and tie them all together. Squeak, squeak,squeak... a happy face. It is, in fact, working out that transformsthe attitude.

Move that metal. Remember, missing a training session is not an option, unless you fallfrom a three-story window, take a bullet in the butt or are beamed upto Pluto ll. Not likely, nice try. The only solution toattitude-failure, training-ennui or workout let-go-sis is to drag yourself to the gym, burdens and all, and dump them when you getthere. Kerplunk! There's no load too heavy that a hearty workout won'tfix, moderate or eradicate. Push that iron. You can work seriously on your funky attitude before you heave theweighted bars, but why bother when in 10 minutes under their force themind is revived, riveted and recharging anyway.

Attitudes are unstablewavelengths. You can think positive, imagine life is neat, suggest toyour unconscious you will have a grand workout, but the fact is in theact. Lift that steel. I get a headache when I think positive. Besides being strenuous, it'slike admitting I'm negative and need a fix. Rather, I go straight forthe fix. I dash to the iron, grasp it by its neck and toss it aroundthe gym. Thud, crash, clank. It puts up a pretty good fight, even thelight stuff, but I always win. It's certain; even if I lose, I win.

We know the inside of a gym and the underside of a loaded bar. We knowthere was a time -- early childhood, or so it seems -- when planningour training was vitally important: the order of exercises, the setsand the reps. Today we know our training so well we can go by smell.The nose knows. Too much planning puts a tickle in me ole schnozolla. I can talk myself out of a good workout -- the greatest invigorator ofthe body, mind and soul -- by thinking too much about it. "I don'twant to go to the gym," is not a casual comment I share with myself.The cunning, whiny twit with his mouth full of gummy bears is limitedto the electrified fence on the far side of the crocodile-inhabited moat.

I'm succinct: Go gym – Plentiful rewards in powerful hands. No gym -- Tremendous burdens on trembling shoulders. Be there or be square. Or, probably, round... floppy in the wings,dumpy in the tail. This is your Captain speaking...Trim your ailerons, bombers, suck inthat fuselage... we're flying high... Godspeed... DD

You'll also find Dave's column online at the link below.http://davedraper.com/url/column.php 1

Larry Potter
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lkJCsIMAiNY
www.ATicketToWealth.co