I remember telling myself I was going to train in between commercials of Toonami. I remember dropping down one day to do push-ups, only being able to muster one or two, and then telling myself that I should quit. I remember hating injuries. I remember injuries leading to breakthroughs and always being smarter for having been [...]
I remember telling myself I was going to train in between commercials of Toonami.
I remember dropping down one day to do push-ups, only being able to muster one or two, and then telling myself that I should quit.
I remember hating injuries.
I remember injuries leading to breakthroughs and always being smarter for having been injured.
I remember the ab wheel, the ab crunch machine thing, and even the electro-stimulation ab belt.
I remember standing on the front lawn with my cousin and telling him I was going to enter “training.” I was going to load up a backpack with rocks and run hills, just like Goku.
I remember the moment of ignition, the moment that I believed I had what it took to change myself.
I remember being scared to tell my parents I wanted to eat wheat bread.
I remember, almost always, doing a program that was way above my level of advancement because I thought normal stuff wouldn’t work for me.
I remember eating six meals per day, and, quite effectively, losing 30 pounds.
I remember eating two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, chips, fruit snacks, and a can of iced tea for lunch and thinking it was healthy.
I remember wearing two t-shirts when practicing kip-ups in front of my friends; the bottom shirt was tucked in to hide my stomach.
I remember doing light dumbbell “toning” (don’t ever use this word, please) exercises in my garage.
I remember doing the same program at two different times and getting two different results.
I remember obsessing about post workout nutrition.
I remember buying equipment for my garage, knowing that it was my only hope; I was too self conscious to train in public.
I remember fear, and lots of it, before just about every trick I ever tried for the first time.
I remember hating vegetables.
I never remember getting things right on the first try.
I never remember front squats feeling easy.
I never remember feeling like I had things figured out.
I never remember not wanting to program hop.
I never remember wanting to just look good; my body was a package deal in that I wanted to actually be capable.
I never remember things being easy.
I never remember a lot of self-confidence.
I never remember anything being more effective than the basics.
I never remember a short term solution working.
I never remember it being easy to deal with an injury.
I never remember traditional bulking being an effective strategy for me.
I never remember it being all play.
I never remember being motivated before every single training session, deliberate practice is the majority.
I never remember having a skimpy appetite.
I never remember there being a time in my life when I didn’t benefit from eating more vegetables.
I never remember a supplement working without that whole training thing and nutrition thing also figured out.
I never remember being able to resist clicking any link that mentions some kind of Russian, Bulgarian, Chinese, or whatever old time Eastern Bloc “training secret.”
I remember starting.
I remember failing.
I never remember quitting.
Keep going.