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 By: G Diesel
Just another cold-ass winter's week here in Jersey... Another week paying dues... Another week in paradise... Training was hard and intense as usual, but nothing spectacular--just another brick in the wall. Starting with the standard grueling Tuesday back session with my boy Vinny "Pots & Pans." Wednesday brought with it a sinus-induced, dome-in-a-vice, migraine-type headache that kept me out of the gym and forced me to shake up the normal split. Returning to gym on Thursday, I decided to train biceps first because I had missed them on Wednesday. I then hit quads and hams solo. The bicep workout was brief and focused. I've gotten better at keeping the small muscle group sessions short and sweet. I can now blast biceps full tilt in less than 20 minutes. Friday, known in my gym as "Big Friday" is chest day... Still making up for my missed Wednesday, I had to lump tris and calves in with pecs to catch my ass up to speed. That is why I fu*@ing hate missing a scheduled workout. But such is life. You make due and get your training in by any means necessary. Saturday was the typical delt session, except this week I pre-exhausted by doing all of my laterals before pressing and was really into my trap training so I ended up doing like 10 sets of shrugs.
This was my first time eating it and considering the fact that deer meat is a very lean and high protein food source, I decided I'd give it its day in court. I felt sort of guilty eating Bambi, but I realized that such feelings made me little more than a hypocrite. I can eat chickens and cows all day long and not feel the least bit bad about it. The way I look at it, if it gave its life for me to get bigger, it did not die in vain.
My supplementation was on point all week, the highlight of which is my favorite anabolic postworkout concoction: 1 pack Animal Nitro G, 5g creatine and 10g glutamine mixed in 6 oz. of cold water. I bang that down even before my shake and at least an hour prior to my first post training whole food meal.
It's the little shi* like that which makes the difference in the long run-that is the shi* that will give me my edge. There it is, a week in my life. Training and eating, struggling and striving, clawing and scratching my way, trying to get ahead in this world. Looking for that elusive edge. Doing whatever it takes to get mine...
This week I jumped on the cardio bandwagon. Even though I'm offseason and trying to blow up, I've got a plan. You see, I've always had the skinny boy metabolism, so even as I've progressed as a bodybuilder and gotten bigger and stronger, I never made huge jumps in bodyweight--just steadily added lean mass. This past winter, making a concerted effort to pack on the weight, I threw caution to the wind and had gained ten pounds over three months, before recently screeching to a halt. This is where you've gotta switch shi* up. I've added the cardio to allow me to up my calories while remaining hard. Walking on the inclined treadmill at a good pace, keeping the abs tight and squeezing my wheels with every step, what I've dubbed "the big guy walk." The cardio, as I see it, has many benefits.
This lifestyle of ours provides shelter from the storm. Stress, problems with relationships or family, lack of cash flow, career issues... Life can fu*@ing beat the living shi* out of you if you let it. But no matter what shi* sandwich you get served, it is no doubt a blessing to have the structure and comfort of routine that bodybuilding provides. Eat, train, sleep when you can... Wake up and do that shi* all over again. When all else fails there is the gym, a place of solace and refuge. Like a Tibetan monk escaping to a remote mountain cave to meditate and be at one with nature, we can go to the gym with a chip on our shoulder, go to the squat rack and throw down, punish our quads for the inequities of the world and leave it all on the gym floor... Like a spiritual and physical cleansing all at once. Plus, we are able to make a positive investment in ourselves, our goals and our future, even during our low times. Moments when others choose to walk a path of self-destruction, we build and grow and flourish. Bodybuilding is steady and solid. It is hard and unyielding like the cast iron of a 45 lb. plate. Times change and trends come and go. Interest rates rise and the Dow Jones plummets. But the gym is always there. A 100 lb. will always be 100 lb. And I like that.
"What the fu*@ are you looking at?" Those are the words that rush to the forefront of my mind every time I'm out eating in public. Whether its a 10 egg white omelet in a cafeteria, a pyramid of burgers at MickeyD's or the protein shake I'd bring to class in college, it is quite obvious that regular folks have a problem with eaters and consequently have issues with bodybuilders. I think their scorn is the result of an underlying fear. That fear is rooted in the fact that if we were stranded on a deserted island and somehow were caught in a "Lord of the Flies" scenario, they know that they'd be the first to get roasted over an open flame and eaten. It gets no more basic or primal than that.
I've gotta admit, however, that I have my own issues with food as well. I hate to be seen out in public buying or eating junk food, for some reason I have attached a certain amount of unavoidable shame to the consumption of trash in the presence of normal people--they might presume that we are in some way alike. Also, I detest seeing uneaten food left on the plate. It might be my blue-collar roots, but I don't like to see food go to waste. Remember, there are starving children in Africa and skinny guys at your gym, so pretty please, with sugar on top, clean your fu*@ing plates.
Breaking one of my fundamental rules about the need for sacrifice in life to produce success, I gave in to my girl and went on a little trip with her for the first time in our four and half year relationship. This departure from the norm found me in Paris, France. And while there is enough to be experienced there, it is no place for the bodybuilder. Planning ahead of time, I figured I'd use the few days in Paris as an opportunity to let my body heal and recover, so I trained everything on a three day split before my departure. This was the first time I missed more than my standard two consecutive rest days in probably six years, and that made me feel guilty enough. I brought some shakes with me along with my Animal Paks, Animal Nitro, glutamine, and some other stuff just to ensure that I at least got the minimum nutritionally during my time abroad. I'm glad I had that foresight, cuz while the sidewalks in Paris are small, the food portions are even smaller. I also didn't see a single other big dude in my entire time there. People looked at me like a mutant freak of nature, and I'm only 235... I even had an artist chase me down by the River Seine to ask to draw me--did I play futbol? Was I a boxer? Neither, I stated proudly. I'm a bodybuilder. An American bodybuilder in Paris... There ain't enough room to walk, not enough food to eat, the clothes don't fit and the American dollar ain't worth jack shi*, but at least on your most skinny feeling, muscle dysmorphic off day with no pump at all, you'll still be the biggest monsieur there.
Sometimes, to keep progressing, you have to go out of your way to humble yourself. Like I've always said, I don't compare myself to the people I see everyday--that is the best way to be the big dog in a small pound for the rest of my days. Fu*@ that. You've gotta keep some perspective. Remember terms like "heavy" or "big" are relative...
  Click To Enlarge.Since then, I've been to the Olympia and the Arnold where I have been surrounded by the professional physique elite and droves of anonymous monsters from all over the country and around the globe. I'm now in a perpetual state of hunger... My fire to improve is constantly raging as it is being rekindled every couple of months: October... March... May. Bigger... Stronger... Better.
The gym is the greatest metaphor for life there is. Every time you attempt a new lift, or even simply try to maintain your previous best, there is that haunting feeling in the pit of you stomach... It ain't fear, it's pressure... The pressure to handle the weight, to take the heat, to, at the very least, maintain or better yet, to strive to take it all to the next level. That weight, that pressure, is what we carry with us everyday of our lives. The kind of pressure that gives you gray hairs in your early twenties... That shi* is no joke. That pressure doesn't come from external sources like society or parents or spouses... it comes from within. It is the burden that every great man must bear. Life without dreams and aspirations and the pressure that comes along with them ain't no kinda life at all if you ask me. I'll take that heat; I'll deal with the pressure because that is the price I must pay to be great. You hear cats say, "Be easy" or "Hang loose" or "Chill". Well guess what son. Chill don't pay the fu*@in' bills. I'm here to get mine and to carve out the life of my dreams on my terms, and I'll be damned if any man will step in my way. This is the life I chose. Can you carry the weight?
I am old school. I know... It's a startling revelation. I may only be 26, but I am no doubt a throwback, the son of a distant era. This fact has come to the forefront of my conscious mind as I reflect on my general philosophy as a personal trainer--my interim occupation of choice as I pursue my life's quest. I believe, down to the bare roots of my being in the basics... Train hard with free weights, eat like a bodybuilder 24/7, get your rest and do cardio to stay lean. The tried and true stuff, the shi* the forefathers of our sport did... Bodybuilding 101. While we are all our own dieticians, physical therapists, trainers, psychoanalysts and all around bodybuilding gurus, we ain't fu*@ing splitting the atom--bust your ass in the gym; shovel in the protein and calories; sleep as much as you can... Repeat. Save the pilates, wheat grass, soy milk, balancing precariously on an inflated rubber ball while you do bicep curls with pink plastic coated dumbbells, new age, nouveau riche bullshi* for the Palm Springs soccer moms. It is 2005 and the old school is back in session. Lesson #1: Keep It Simple Sucka. Class dismissed.
Variety. It is an essential element of bodybuilding progress. Switching up the details regarding your training can translate into accelerated gains. The "who", "what", "when", "where" and "why" of bodybuilding must always evolve and be reshuffled. For example, I train at a gym other than my regular home base twice a week now--on Tuesdays and Thursdays--and I lift with two of my co-workers, who are also personal trainers at that gym. Back And Leg Day Have Now Been Given New Life As:
Beyond that, I am highly motivated by the need to bury anybody new that trains with me, to make them understand what it takes, to cause them to realize that they've never worked so hard in the gym, and consequently never been so sore before. Also, I always like to live by the Joe DiMaggio rule--to always perform and carry yourself in a way so honorable as to leave an indelible impression on anyone who crosses your path, even if it is only once. Another example of how changing shi* up can make all the difference in your progress comes from this Saturday's delt session. Same old gym, same training partner (Pots & Pans), and shoulders as usual. Until, in a moment of lethargic inspiration, desperate for something new, I suggested that we try something different--circuit training.
dumbbell shrugs side dumbbell lateral raises and dumbbell rear delt raises machine shrugs upright rows 5 times through each circuit in superset fashion.
We absolutely trashed delts and traps in less than 45 minutes... Best fu*@ing shoulder session I've had in years, all because I decided to deviate from the norm. Take it from me, variety may be the spice of life, but it is the fu*@ing ammonium nitrate of training. Believe that.
I saw too much wasted potential growing up as a ballplayer and sports fan and it left an indelible impression on me. Len Bias, Darryl Strawberry and the like broke my heart when I was a kid. To have the world as your oyster and the future laid out in front of you ripe for the picking and to throw it all away is one of the saddest things in the world to behold.
 Click To Enlarge.We're all human, and we all make mistakes, but opportunity often only knocks once, and you have to be ready to answer the door or you might just be left ass out. I made a decision early, that I wouldn't allow myself to be that guy. I wouldn't let the distractions of the world and the negative assholes I encountered along the way lead me astray.
He had all the potential in the world and at 15 was way ahead of the learning curve. But like so many trying to find their way, he got caught up with the wrong cats, lost focus, started fu*@ing around and got himself in some shi* with the law. He dragged his feet for a year, gave up on his training and when I'd run into him, I could do little more that shake my head in disapproval.
He has gotten a second chance and is young enough to start fresh. The world is his. So are you making the most of your gifts? Are you maximizing your potential and going for yours or will you just piss it all away?
We all have our own slang. 45 lb. plates, instead of being just one of several nominal weight increments capable of being used in the gym to increase a training load are instead, to me, "pies." I only count in multiples of 45's... We go up in pies, all day long, until the bar bends and snaps. A credo that is far easier to actually adhere to on exercises like deads and leg presses as opposed to curls and bench presses.
Like my Pops said observing me choke down a couple cans of dry tuna, "You'd eat the ass off of a rhinoceros if it would get you big." Motherfu*@in' right I would. But that fact, to me, is not special or extraordinary, it is simply what I do. No one thanks the wind for blowing.
Every year that passes, I look back on the previous year and think about how much of a pussy I was back then, compared to my current status. I am always trying to do better, to demand more of myself, to be more hardcore than before... Whether it is diet and supplementation or gym warfare, there is always a little bit further to go, an inch or two closer to the brink of insanity. One way for me to push the envelope is to be innovative, to create exercises, or to take my surroundings and utilize them to make my training even more insane. Last summer during a moment of cruel inspiration, I devised a way to take my leg training to a new level.
Two steps at a time with the 80, 90 and 100 pounders, up and down, in the brutal July heat, reveling in the fact that we were the only motherfu*@er s hardcore or crazy enough to do such a thing.
So I'll be here in Jersey scheming a way to take it all up a notch to be more hardcore than ever before... To do whatever it takes.
"You can shi* in one hand and wish in the other and see which one fills up first." That is one of my Dad's classic quotes. A Frank statement (pun intended). It is all about a mindset. Dudes wish they were Mr. Olympia, wish they were a millionaire, wish they were this and wish they were that. They wish all day long, but they ain't willing to put the work in, and thus they'll never achieve their goals. Because after all, there are too many good excuses to fall back on: "It was politics." Or "He has better genetics." Or "That guy who beat me is on this and takes that." Bullshi*.
 Put The Work In If You Want To Achieve Anything. Click To Enlarge.The only one to point the finger at if I lose or underachieve or come up short is myself. It is my duty to bridge the gap. To make up the difference in hard work and diligence--in consistency and attention to details. To push harder. To demand more. To be all it is that I desire to be by any means necessary. It applies to every facet of life--from the weight room to classroom to the boardroom. From the womb to the tomb, those who will gain the most in this world are the ones who invest the time and effort and who press on past obstacles undeterred. It is easy to wish and not act. It is easy to blame others and cop out. It is easy to die without ever making that grasp for greatness. But it is hard to pursue your destiny, to answer the call of greatness, to be a man of action. The days of wishing and waiting have come and gone. The hour of action has arrived.
Stay the course. Follow the fu*@ing plan. Rome was not built in a day... Nothing great or epic or mighty ever was. Shi*, anything that is simply worthwhile takes time. Time well spent that is... Time conceiving, planning, executing... Look at every day, every meal, every training session as an investment, a payment made toward a greater goal. Chipping away at your dream, one deliberate, positive action at a time. When times are hard and doubt lingers, be resolute and self-assured. Yours is the noble path, the journey of the warrior. Some dark days that road is treacherous and rocky and it seems to take every fiber of your being, every measure of your soul to muster the heart to take even one tiny step forward. But push onward you must. And it is those arduous, painful, incremental advancements that will make all the difference in the end. Slow motion is better than no motion. Be not discouraged or disheartened when things look bleak, Animal. Hard work pays off and hard people prosper. Your day will most certainly come if you have the balls to stay the course.
Let me tell you a little story. Back when I was in Philly, I trained on occasion at somewhat of a yuppie gym around the corner from my apartment. A lot of college kids and new doctors beginning their residency trained there (in their scrubs, of course). But it was well stocked and close so it was convenient.
That is fu*@ing harder than hardcore. That shi* left an indelible impression on me. Taught me what it really meant to pay the fu*@ing price. I'm not sure what Alq is up to now, but he inspires me to this day. Next time you feel like bitching out on your training, half-assing it, taking for granted how lucky you are to be alive and to be in the gym, think about Alq gutting it out, murdering himself on leg day on two Frankenstein knees. That should do the trick... It still works for me.
Achieving extreme growth, that which exceeds nature's intentions, often requires extreme measures as well as a little bit of patience. In general, everything has grown at relatively the same pace. However, my upper body responded immediately to weight training and grew at an even further accelerated rate after I began to undertake a bodybuilder's diet more than 8 years ago. My legs, on the other hand, took a while to catch up. Growing up as an athlete and playing ball for 6 hours a day for the better part of my teens, the slow twitch muscle fibers in my legs were dominant. While my wheels would consistently grow stronger, they weren't blowing up as fast as I wanted them to. So I pounded away at them, grueling workout after grueling fu*@ing leg session, for years and they have finally now begun to respond, not just in terms of strength but also in gaining serious mass.
My calves, which had always been the strong point of my lower half, now suddenly weren't up to par with my quads. So I've gotten away from blasting them once a week to training them 4 or 5 times weekly, varying the exercises from day to day and hitting them on a maintenance level much as I've always done abs... A little bit everyday getting a deep burn and a nice pump, on top of an all out workout on leg day. It is no longer enough just to have "good" calves or "good" anything as a matter of fact. Everything must be exceptional-as freaky as possible. "Above average" just ain't cutting it anymore. G Diesel Recommend this article to a friend by e-mail here! Visitor Reviews Of This Article!
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