Today, you're getting a sneak peek at the Kaged Muscle graphic novel! Watch this video while you hit your cardio, or enjoy it after.
If you had your own graphic novel character, what would you look like? What would your name be? Let Gethin know in the comments below.
Day 77 Active rest and cardio
Watch The Video - 17:21
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Click here to go inside the mind of Kris Gethin
The closer I get to my physical goal, the closer I get to obliterating all the black matter and grey memories that hide and contain themselves within me. My transformation will become my obvious truth if I keep doing what I know is right. When I train for the camera and viewer, I give it to them, I do it to them, never for them, but the latter is what becomes the obvious truth when I focus and never stray from the first two. I have to retreat my muscles into the horror for just one more week to mute the screams. Sometimes the noise in my head is so loud its all I can do is to drive my body into the next planet of pain to eliminate them. Its like a phantom menace that’s always there but my time under tension takes them out.
I have had a lot of accusations and comments towards me this week. It’s the usual **** though - the ugly tattoos and the dumb hair but mostly steroid use. I get driven and offended, but both fuel me to create more insecurity and doubt within their frailty. Their weakness becomes my weapon. The truth is, it always comes from the uneducated. Anyone who is anyone knows I wouldn’t even come near a top 10 placing in an amateur untested show. I would be outweighed by 30-50lbs. But I don’t care. I haven’t missed a meal for 15 years and I have averaged 2-3lbs every one of those years from when I began busting my balls every single day. I get offended because they don’t know me. They think I am a show. An ornament. A vanity project. They have no idea what lives inside of me. The will never know that my muscles are the by-product superficial scarring of the internal scarring I eliminate every day. I know these people must have it easy within themselves, because their physiques show what bleating lambs they are. Each fiber of muscle on my frame has a story behind it. Much like a ring through the trunk of a tree. Emotional baggage, anger, hatred, excitement, resentment, urgency, and sincerity has gone into each one. I construct them out of a necessity, not out of a hobby. I become ashamed of man when I hear their weak bull****. I feel like a different race or animal to them. I feel alienated when I read and see their diluted parasites become alive in their thoughts. They’re infected with weakness and no hope. They will never know what it takes.
This week as I entrap my emotions and release them into the sea of sets and raping reps, their voices will become more silent as I allow them to scrape against the ears with their forgotten sounds. They will be unheard within the vacant lots of all the people who follow this program. Their words of complacency and insecurity will vaporize as they leave their mouth and try to infest the logic of the devotees.
I know all the years spent, sleep lost, reps ruptured, meals eaten, tests taken, emotions extracted, and scarring imposed and expired has come down this. Its come to this – this week. I have no room in my head for anyone or anything right now. Everything between here and next week is the enemy and in my way. I will continue to create the new way. I can’t lose it. I wont.