My thursday ramble


Active member
I know that you younguns just love to hear the old man ramble, and I saw that Zeke revealed that I was really Hercules. He forgot to mention that he and jake were scared shitless of me for almost a whole week after seeing me bend the horseshoes, the iron bar and the gun. LMAO everytime I hear the story.

Anyway...we all remember the first time we ht the weights or got as a present our first set of weights

I remember my first day like it was just sixty years ago.

The mad pursuit emerged from an active kid who loved to climb trees and jump from their heights. I had a favorite limb from which I chinned, on a favorite tree I called the Monkey Tree. It was my original and personal gym that served me and me alone for years. Another favorite limb in my monkey tree was perfect for hanging upside down and popping off a few sit ups.

There were two chairs in the cellar that I placed back to back. I performed thousands, maybe millions of dips between those old splintered chairs when I wasn't chinning on the Monkey Tree.

Handstand pushups came later when strength and balance were at my command.

Then the weights rolled onto the scene: the bar, the plates, the collars, the wrench, the clanging, the improvised exercises and the gravity and the pain. I loved the idea of lifting weights—the height of manhood to a ten-year-old—but they weren't as much fun or as free as the Monkey Tree or even the dirty old rickety chairs. I soon hated the dinky wrench and the smashed fingers caught between the cold and noisy plates and the downright uncontrollable heaviness of the mute metal.

Sheesh. I'm still just a little kid.

I pushed and pulled and from the corner of my eye wondered if anyone cared. No one noticed. Not once did a my dad say, oh son you are really getting strong. No he more or less just humiliated me.
See my dad had a nickname...they called him Burly George. He was every bit as big as the one and only Charles Atlas. The guy in the comic books who sold Dynamic Tension courses. Well I would have to say that Burly was actually bigger than Charles.

So right when I could hit a new personal best, I always managed to accidentally on purpose let Burly Dad see me do it. He would always walk up and do it with one hand and say, oh son you got to get stronger...then laugh and then pour a shot of Old Grand Dad. A shot being....ummm...maybe 1 cup.

I was lucky, really. Mom, Dad, their friends never laughed at me,or made fun, nor did they tell me to stop that banging and clanging and get those miserable things out of the house. The nasty devices, when not in use, were rolled under my bed. My room was small... tight quarters and tight muscles for a little squirt.

And in no time I was a married man. Came back from my honeymoon and went to the gym. That went over big. Soon wifey began to understand that I had a problem with weights. No not a problem with weights....a problem when I was without weights. She began to always be sure that I did not miss a workout. It is good to grow together. What would I do now if I had a new wife? She would commit me!

Between '70 and '80 I hoisted the steel no less than five days a week. Whatever else I neglected during that notorious decade, working out was not one of them. Iron and protein in sufficiency accompanied me wherever I dared to go. Nothing fancy: curls and presses, tuna and water and a hunk of beef.Maybe one of them there stupid dbol/deca cycles that were so popular. I caught on to that foolishness quickly. Got my test runnng in that cycle, and most of the guys just could not understand why I had more muscle. EVEN when I told them!!!!

Did I mention the alcohol? No? Good. I won't. I saw I was acting like Burly George and shit canned it. One night I pored myself two fingers and looked at how much it was. I dumped it into a measuring cup and it overflowed the 8oz mark. SHIT CANNED it ya hear me?

Now, all these years later, I'm a simple yet loyal member of the iron heads. Right here with you guys and I am, good for three staggering workouts a week. Stand back, coming through!

I do what I have to do, must do, need to do, can do, am able to do, want to do and don't want to do, and not what someone tells me to do. Come to think of it, no one tells me what to do. I just do it.

Hold on wifey is hollering something....

"Take out the garbage.. Moe!"

"Yes, Shemp." "I am all over it" Marital bliss at its finest, and hey...she makes a dam good smoothie!

I still don't know what I will do when I grow old. That is for another day