Monthly Archives: July 2014

Dear Schmoe

Dear Schmoe!


Maybe I Shouldn’t Talk?

None of my business
There are many things I don’t get in the gym.  Yet there are some things I do get and I do understand like when a person is a beginner and they look over at someone else doing an exercise believing they got that great body because they’re DOING THAT ONE EXERCISE!  Fuck me MAN!  I was guilty of this too.  Ain’t it comical though how so much could be further from the truth?  So, what’s this about?

I observe people in the gym.  Men and women alike or fit and fat or somewhere in between alike.  And I probably should start off by saying that maybe this particular way works for her?  I don’t know as I’m not a fucking coach (and currently don’t intend to be)  and there are many things I don’t like to talk about because I don’t do everything perfect either, such as eat better and cleaner foods 80% of the time.  And many can tell me:  It’s not all about training; your gains would come in more if you just eat better.  But I digress.

There’s this woman (and this is quite a trend too I noticed for some women) who I’ve observed time and time again.  She’ll do an exercise and go for moderate/heavy weight and only do a few reps.  A few reps like 1-5 usually.  Yes, she’s a powerlifter (and to point out, I don’t have much knowledge on why powerlifters do what they do besides the whole strength thing), but I don’t understand the point of doing one exercise (or maybe a couple) and wait around endlessly for the next 3-5 minutes until the body fully recovers only to go and do some cardio on the treadmill at a snail’s pace and THAN go back to lifting again?

Again, maybe this works for her?  I don’t know.  I’m not her.  But it kills me (just like it kills me –a little – that I train hard without being on point with my diet) somewhere inside!  I could understand if a person is rocking out to either their Powerlifting day or an accessory day.  And maybe a person could just perform a day of accessory work with cardio at the end.  And maybe I could understand the whole lifting of the weights first and going balls to the walls on every furious set THAN doing a cardio session after.

And to note:  I’ve done training workouts where I’ll push my muscles with maximum weight with maximum reps in a maximum set and to maximum failure and THAN follow up with 1-2 minutes of fucking sprinting on the treadmill and repeat the maximum of the maximum again.  (<- This usually happens when I’m dieting down.)  I could understand if one hits it hard one way (right at the beginning!) only to come up and still finish strong in the end anyway.

But, if it seems like something or someone is half-ass, (and if one is calling it like how they see it), I mean, you know what I mean:  Does it mean this type of training is really working for this person?  Or is it just another method of getting by, by doing the bare minimum and being lazy during the training process?

Maybe I shouldn’t talk.

none of my business tho


High Ovulation Training!

power_girl_by_sami_basri_by_deevelliott-d4g9wxm(Previously half-written.)


The littlest thing sets me off when I’m high on ovulation.  When I’m undergoing ovulation it’s my very own natural preworkout as I know how to direct my energy and mind-frame so it works for me in the gym.  I’ve done well channeling and managing some very fantastic personal bests during this womanly time.

So, I met up with the new gym boys Hungarian and Cop.  Both are humongous in size, you know, muscles bulging out the shirt in every which way and I love to stare like a hungry dog with my tongue rolling out like a red carpet (in my head of course)!  But, I have to play like rico-suave and it’s very hard to contain myself when ovulation hits the being of my temple.  Still, the good news is I got to be sandwiched in the middle of pounds of flesh, muscle and beef.

Tonight was arm and calve day brought to me by Hungarian guy (who I would love to fucking have sex with!) who’s one of the beefiest slab son of a bitch in the gym.  He comes over to ask me right before we start, “Do you train for muscle?” (Remember, I’m the new woman on the gym block. So no one knows what I’m about, but now they do!)  I said, “Yes, indeed.”  He nodded me respect and I smiled in my nod.  I knew it was going to be SO ON and believe you me I was fucking ready.

Warm ups sets began with light dumbbells, curl for the girls and hammers to set off clamor.  I felt the oncoming surge.  I was totally excited.  Then Preacher curls on a steep bench came first.  I’ve never been on a bench so steep (plus I’m short), so this was new to me.  So I stood at 35lbs on the barbell as it was a good fit to reach 10 reps for 4 sets.  And every time I grinded the reps, arms shaking, stomach engaged, teeth grinding the inside ring of my mouth, all I heard that made me feel delightful from Hungarian guy was: “Good! Beautiful!  Beautiful!” And, fuck, for what was that for?  It gave me monstrous fuel!

Between us three, we kept rotating.  Next up was bicep curls with multiple barbells on the ground; everyone had their own (at least 3 barbells) for their drop sets set.  My biceps, deltoids and forearms tapped into another dimension for the first three sets and by the time the fourth set came I was not only aroused to no end with both men cheering me on, but my muscles got used to the dimension despite my extra reps as I watched and observed the crazy pump in the mirror with my skeleton tank top.

One of my favorite exercises was next:  Rope Curls!  And if I didn’t mention it before, I was going by what Hungarian and Cop were doing.  Why do my own techniques when I can learn some from the big boys right now?  So, the movement was pull high to the upper chest straight all the way the fuck up and full extension, all the way the fuck down.  That wasn’t the problem.  The problem came into play when I shook my head, lowered my eyes and flared my nostrils like a bull when I saw the big boys do 120lbs in awkward defeat.

There I was closing in on 60lbs (and on this day was my personal best mind you feeding from every ounce of energy our sandwiched threesome brought) pushing through every damn rep.  Pushing past the fucking burn, pushing past the tremendous resistance going against me, barely breathing (bad habit!), abdominal tight as fuck while trying to suck air through an imaginary tiny coffee straw.

I complained loudly how I want to do 120lbs and Hungarian says, “Only the 1% in the gym could do this.  Take your time.  You don’t need to rush.  But you’re a woman.  Why would you want to?”  I said, “I want to be strong!”  Then Hungarian tells the rest of the boys, in particular the new one who just entered the sandwiched to make it a quad and says, “She wants to rush to do 120lbs because she wants to spank everybody in the gym.”  I cracked a smile just like the big shot I am.

Then we hit up tricep rope for numerous sets.  My triceps died.  They were done and swollen.  And then the other guys were doing an uncomfortable tricep exercise with a funny angle with a dumbbell overhead but out to the side at like 30 degrees or something?  I never tried it before and attempted it anyway because I’m a freak in the gym and although Hungarian tried to show me (and he touched me!) I felt too uncomfortable and didn’t like the idea of fucking up my bad shoulder more than I’ve already done.

Plus, I was embarrassed as my underarms were the scent of gang-banging skunks’ (probably?), so I’m like fucking Hungarian is getting a whiff of it.  FUCK MY LIFE!  Ugh!  So I stood on the tricep rope until the other guys were done because I needed to kill my triceps again for dying in the first place.  And by this point, I went into the locker room to get my wrist-straps as now we were on the tricep dip machine.  It was my first time on this machine and caution worked against me here.  I kept picking a weight but continued hitting 15 reps on it when I only want 8-10 at best because it’s how I rolls.

Again, ovulation had me PR’ing on this dip machine with 120lbs and no locking out.  I kept the constant tension on these future horseshoes.  My skin was peeling and tightening on itself like a screw.  Then it was onto tricep dumbbell overhead extension (with two hands).  I usually do the one-arm overhead extension because of not wanting to (once again) continue destroying my bad shoulder any further.  But, you know me; I can’t look bad in front of anyone (not if I could help it anyway).  So I’m on with the boys and again I’m complaining in my head with how they’re using 100lbs-130lbs.  I let the sigh spell d-e-f-e-a-t.

Now it’s been years since I’ve done this exercise and I PR’d on every single set (of course) from 40lb-55lbs for 4 sets with 10 gutted reps.  (From what I could remember I capped off at 30-35lbs back in the days with this exercise.)  Hungarian felt at ease like a true personal trainer to help the dumbbell for the quad sandwich.  I mean, this guy is short, but big and fucking strong, he doesn’t need any person to hand him over the weight from the top.  I’m talking 100lb-130lbs!  And most certainly, I have pride too, but you know, I said, “If he wants to help me with this dumbbell, let me take it.  It’s not everyday where I train with awesome people who are more than willing to assist me to the next level.”

To say my tricep wasn’t super hard (or my deltoids or my biceps for that matter) and tense was pretty much an understatement.  My skin had nothing left to tighten.  My triceps became rocks as I almost went to complete failure on the overhead extensions.  I dug super deep to continue through all those reps because as I said before I’m not trying to look bad if I can help it.  (I have a big ego like that.  Maybe?  Ha!)  Then we capped off with standing and seated calves.  And naturally, as with everything else, I kilt them!  The gym was closing and it was time to go and I was all like man I want to keep going.  And one of the big boys asked me, “How the hell are you not tired?”

I stated, “High ovulation.” 😉