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[1], 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.

[1] 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.

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By the numbers

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.

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T totalling

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.”

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Bad Horse

“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.

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Coworker Challenge XIV

Some new faces this month to join in the fun and games*.

* Note: Neither fun nor games were actually involved.

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Mocking the Stupid

Yes, this conversation has taken place at my house. The only reason it hasn't this morning is because... maybe my new keyboard is quieter than the old one.

Yes, this conversation has taken place at my house. The only reason it hasn't this morning is because my new keyboard is quieter than the old one.

Now, I could be coy, and play nice, and suggest that I understand the point of view espoused by Kent R. Rieske, B.Sc., and Bible Life Ministries.

But I won’t, because the man is simply a fucking idiot.

Actually, I don’t believe I’m stating that point strongly enough. However, I’m not going to resort to large fonts and blinking text and various other late-90’s hallmarks of Geocities’ personal pages. Just assume that there are flames, and blood, and skulls, and lots of animated .gifs clustered around the theme of “OH HELL NO.”

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Do It or Else

A friend recently posted on their blog, “Buying is easier than doing. Even when you know that the way is through action rather than acquisition, it’s still sometimes a challenge to get out there and do it.

This week I aim to get out there and do.”

That, in a nutshell, the attitude we endorse fully around here, along with another friend’s mantra/koan, “Do it anyway.”

Some days you feel weak. You feel tired. You feel sore. You simply don’t want to do it, whatever “it” is.

The difference between growth and ossification is performing on those days despite those feelings. Maybe it’s warped to derive motivation from overcoming an initial lack of motivation.

Beating inertia is still a victory worth earning. And it puts you one step further along the path.

Get out there and do, indeed.

New Workout Partners

Bell and kettlebell

Bell and my kettlebell. Yes, the cat is really that small.

They are the youngest of three sets of feral kittens that have popped out this month, and their mother has sequestered them in the garage (since the other two litters are under the front of the house).

Despite being the more bold of the two, the white one with spots (pictured above) will be Bell, because the other one is a dark tiger tortoiseshell, which is a lot closer to black.

1st Generatoion (2007):
– Bullseye (tortoiseshell female)
– Eyebrows (blue-eyed, white male)

2nd Generation (2008):
– B-2 (tortoiseshell female, Bullseye’s daughter)
– Skeet (white & spotted male, Bullseye’s son)

3rd Generation (2009):
– Rufus (black female, Bullseye’s granddaughter)
– Mini-Skeet (white & spotted male, Bullseye’s 2nd litter)
– B-3 (tortoiseshell female, Bullseye’s 2nd litter)

4th Generation (2010):
– Before (B-4), During, and After (Bullseye’s 3rd litter – light, medium, and dark tortoiseshell, respectively)
– Belfry (black) & Shingle (tortoiseshell)  (Rufus’ 1st litter, Bullseye’s great-grandchildren)
– Kettle and Bell (B-2’s 1st litter, Bullseye’s grandchildren)

The father of record for, at least, Bullseye and probably some of the subsequent offspring, is a brindle tomcat from a couple blocks away. There is also a stocky black male with white feet of unknown origin that shows up occasionally and generally gets growled at by all comers. Eyebrows is, apparently, bisexual, since he was trying to breed Skeet/Mini-skeet last year (my guess is he figured out what he should be doing and knocked up B-2, though it’s possible they’re one of the Skeets’ progeny).

Hereditary traits seem to be boldness in the brindles (Bullseye can be picked up and more or less demands head rubs), skittishness in the blacks (Rufus’ mother was “Skitz,” and they both look and act very wary, and aren’t shy about giving a big, pink-mouthed hiss at any gesture in their direction), and mellowness in the whites with brindle spots (both Skeets, though Bell is a fairly aggressive and hissy little thing, considering it could be stuffed in a coffee cup with room to spare).