I am one of the pilot participants in Fitocracy’s online coaching program, so if you want to get my brains-on advice to whip your ass into shape in the tender, loving, and inexorably enabling way you’d expect from Yours Truly, they’re offering my services at a bargain introductory rate, with the beatings to commence on February 17th.
If you or someone you know is terrified in a good way of giving this a try, feel free. I won’t be crueler or kinder to friends, frienemies, or total strangers.
 Which is to say, if you say you want to accomplish something, I will not let you give up. I am a right fucking bastard like that.
My friend Batty put out the call for some real-people versions of those ubiquitous facebook fitness motivational posters.
So, yeah. You knew this was coming.
Yes, it’s the first of the month/year/thing, and I actually woke the fuck up and busted out the tape measure. Timeliness and shit, not to mention taking full advantage of all the resolutionist momentum that everyone else in the world is going to be bandwagoning the living fuck out of.
So, hey, here’s the state of the meat at the dawn of 2012, going into a de-load week before testing my maxes and moving into the next phase of things.
And, if you’re good, there will be Yet Another Phone Shot (YAPS) to go with each of these updates moving forward. Nothing spectacular, just me, standing around in my office wearing a pair of shorts. No lighting tricks, no flexing, nada. Those conditions are not the case in the photo at left; that’s racking 165 after doing some head-supported rows with the flattering (but very fucking hot) halogen in my garage overhead.
Some things are easy to gauge — strength and endurance and weight — because we have the tools at our disposal to measure them. Other things are trickier — sleep quality, or various nutritional balances — but still within the realm of doable for someone who is attentive and attuned to how their body works. But for some things, there’s no real substitute for professional diagnostics and evaluation.
And this brings us to today’s subject, which is going to come as something of a surprise to most readers.
Your not so humble scribe has what has somewhat coyly become known as “Low T.”
“I’m an easy thing to hurt yourself against.”
– Uisgebaugh, Blood and Iron (Elizabeth Bear)
I joke with an old friend (that is, a friend of long acquaintance, not one of advanced years. She is STILL twenty-nine, some-fucking-how) about being her “sexy nemesis,” because I don’t pull any rhetorical punches in our friendship, and gleefully fuck with her when I think she’s getting too complacent.
This is my standard modus operandi in many things; my younger, more pretentious self wrote a first-person essay from Satan’s POV about trafficking in doubt, for instance. Be that as it may, presenting a challenge, an obstacle, or a target is something I tend to do whether I mean to or not.
Some new faces this month to join in the fun and games*.
* Note: Neither fun nor games were actually involved.