Tag Archives: passion

Tonight: A Side Effect of Greatness


meI have undying passion.
I have creativity and flow working together.
I’m a vessel of many lives.
I receive openly – more so than ever before.
I give when it behooves me.

And through these strong hands I channel my own life’s energy.  I can see that look of determined intent written across my eyebrows, pupils dilated with an immense shade of brown fire (if there were such a thing).  I love pleasant reminders of being a weightlifter like my silver barbell faded into a zealous rust color where the hands are strategically placed from robust usage.  Or the old-school globe dumbbell on the belly of my forearm in its own imperfect symmetry yet ideal shading.  I love reminders that feel like slices of heaven.  Or when heaven in my world resembles delayed onset muscle soreness.

I rewind to the time when my boyfriend performed the Razor’s Edge from the top of the couch when I was twelve years old – my entire back slammed onto the concrete of the floor in rapid fashion.  Without a flinch, without a facial expression, my skin sizzles like the morning sun, and my muscles quickly take on a singe.  But that’s just me rowing and pulling back with my elbows directing the strength show.

It’s just me and the bar – alone with my thoughts, alone with my focus, alone with my concentrated desire.  I can feel the flames fan and spread like a forest wildfire through my traps, teres minor/major, rhomboids and lats.  I row bent-over and row until my muscles become like deep hooks fasten to my bones.  I row until these muscles remain unquestionably contracted and freeze.  I row until my muscles yell, spit and claw at me with spasms.  Until I have to beg them for mercy and limber them again.

Disregarding the tight knot that formed in my back and in my forearms it is time to pick up the dumbbells for a bicep curl marathon.  I ride the mind-muscle connection.  I stand with soldier posture.  Shoulders are down and back and my abdominals are fully engaged.  I curl and curl; my skin tightens like a face peel – twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four and twenty-five reps.  I keep the world of burn centered in the bicep peak.  I’m in pain.  I can’t tell which it is:  Does my mind or body want to give up?

I grind my teeth.  I get angry.  I’m extremely ugly when I lift.  I’m never to sure what come(s) over me.  I now proceed to hurt myself further by grinding my teeth into my mouth and grimace like I’m dropping sewage in the public restroom.  I can feel my body wanting to break down since the fourth set at the beginning of the training session roughly 40 minutes ago.  I’m now over the hump.  I do my best to maintain good breathing technique during the seconds of concentric, isometric and eccentric.

Keep the body tight.
Keep the body tight.
Can you feel it baby?
I dirty-talk myself.

I’m far out.  I’m probably having an out of body experience.  I’m a watcher sitting on an engine fueling my iron addiction observing myself.  I’m exhausted like a motherfucker, but I’m chasing the burn, the pump and the grind.  I’m chasing the fat I’ve gain last year.  I’m chasing my fickle motivation.  I’m making my own inspiration once again.

And…

Tonight I felt like myself.
Tonight I felt like a weightlifter.
Tonight I’m heavy in love with myself.
Tonight the pumps in my deltoids were fearsome.
Tonight my triceps bled over (still are),
And I didn’t even train them.
That, my friends, is a side effect of greatness.

P.S.

Does my training inspire my writing or does my writing inspire my training?

-Pennington

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Mutuality


image

The night was full of curiosity and mutuality and winds and whispers that soothed exact.  Daylight blared through the tasteless windows with all its promising newness; sharpening beauty in a welcoming space of two bodies interlacing as one glorious flame.  Lying in bed, there was an earnest sense of giving and receiving sensuality, in addition to an urge of freedom between the pair.  There was diversity in both worlds – yet beneath the façade there joined parallel natures which compelled the two to pierce the moment at hand as one.

Without formed and repetitive guarded guises, she came to him baring a part of her soul, free as a bird as did he.  During when words became spells and words encircled the situation like conjuring smoke in a séance, she stroked his luxurious charcoal hair over and over again until his brain registered what was occurring – instantaneous magic!  He penetrated her eyes with all the fire in his core and resembling a potent magnet pulled her into an earth-shattering kiss.  The energy and explosion melted their suckling lips and delicate tongues.  Every open mouth kiss was pain released, joy embraced and passion undiscovered.

-Pennington

Rummaging Gym Eyes


marvel rummagng eyes
Before I begin, I rummage with my eyes a cold grill with the intent to feed on anyone who steps in my personal space.  Anyone who glares at me from a distance gets the fuck you look as well because I share this gym with the rest of everybody.  I forge my right to be here by the numbers, by the purpose of colossal concentration, by the visualization of the day and the body action at night.  I grip the steel of the dumbbell and I surge with immeasurable power before a single rep has been executed or an exercise exercised.  It all starts in the mind.

It may be the luck of being a woman, or a dependent on the man, who stands in front of me, but, there are times where I display my puppy dog eyes big and wide and remain uncomplaining, waiting by a bench like a sit dog sit until their hearts soften and they pass the bench along to me entirely without a moments hesitation.  I thank the stranger and smile with a queen’s happiness and during his training session I’ll boost his ego (and he’ll train harder) for being nice to me by staring him up and down attentively while he strengthens his temple.

Now I’m seated with an angry face and underneath my baggy shirt from the mirror I can see my muscles working, how glorious they look, tenacious, pumped and embellished.  To the left of me, I gaze at my arm in motion, performing an incline bicep curl nonchalant as taking a selfie in public.  To the right of me, an array of men peers onward with a combination of riddled emotions and contemplated expressions.

And in the background, there’s a woman highly amused by the numbers on the weight I’m lifting.  She can’t for the life of her stop looking at my face and the unleashing of effort that cannot be contained.  She can’t stop watching the way I grate my lips with violent teeth noticing how my mouth turns sweltering red when I come close to failure.

Who knows if it’s out of delight
she observes or
if the very thought
of my passion
gives her nausea
through her eyes?

-Pennington

How Did Fitness Change My Behaviors, Thoughts, Who I Date and How I Masturbate?


This is kind of a semi-list of things that have differed since I’ve been in the world of fitness.  This isn’t a complete list mind you and this isn’t in any order.  I find it interesting to take up a lifestyle and see how many things altered then after.  How have YOU changed since your lifestyle change?

1.  I’ve tripled my confidence with broad shoulders and Popeye forearms.  I probably no longer care about my large breasts being a spectacle anymore for some.  I rely on mass.

2.  On every social media site I’m on I make sure it involves and dominates a whole culture of fitness.  I can tell those who are closest to me get annoyed by it.

3.  I look for artists who draw worthy physiques.  I watch cartoons of bravery, courage and more fit bodies.  I find myself looking up to superheros.

4.  It’s hard to find people the opposite of repulsive if they don’t workout or attempt to change some of the things they eat and drink.  This includes my favorite aunt, it’s hard not to look upon her like a complete pig by the atrocious food she eats and by all the illnesses that’s caught up with her as a resort of it, not to mention zero exercise.

5.  I don’t want sitting down work.

6.  I stand more in the train; probably due to brainwashing and saying my glutes will flatten.

7.  I used to date overweight men.  Not anymore.

8.  I now feel a man must take care of themselves by being physically active and as frequent as possible.  There should be zero reason why a man has a gut; he isn’t a woman who carries additional fat and estrogen.  A man has testosterone and should put it to use as much as possible, if he’s overweight than he’s lazy in probably every aspect of his life.

9.  A man I date must have muscles now.  If they don’t, I will assess their potential and along the line make them feel like complete shit about their bodies until they do something about it.

10.  If a man has lack of conditioning, I don’t expect him to have sex with me properly.  So, I guess, I consider this a deal-breaker.

11.  I probably have become a bully in some ways.  I have a brother and a few boy cousins who can attest to this firsthand wrath.  Still, maybe I’ve always been (never to truly weak people) a bully and coupled with my feminist and Dom tendencies, it’s not a real wonder why.  An example of a form of small bullying:  When a guy (could also be a coworker) is smaller than me or has less muscle mass I grab him by the back of the neck and shake him up like a rag doll.  Or I literally push smaller guys around so their heads jerks forward while the rest of their body flings back.

12.  I only have 2 pairs of jeans since my journey and adventures with fitness.  I have a hard time trying to get jeans past my calves than my quads.  It’s much easier to get a cotton shirt, baggy shorts and comfortable sweat pants.

13.  Since I started fitness, over time I realize I went from sanitary napkins to tampons, weak deodorant to heavy deodorant, to carrying hand sanitizer and additional locks in my book-bags for gym locker rooms.

14.  I can’t bring anyone in my circle of life who doesn’t know their worth, who doesn’t move forward, who isn’t looking for personal growth, isn’t striving to live the life of being discipline, lacks passion or tolerate bullshitters.  Thanks to fitness!

15.  The more muscles I get, the more I’m able and actually desire to be more of a woman.  Therefore I paint my nails often enough, wear spandex from time to time and wash my hair more than once a month.

16.  I learned a thing or two about patience.  Still learning.

17.  I’ve achieved great orgasms by rubbing on my DOMS while masturbating.  You should try it some time, delectable pain and pleasure.

-Pennington

My Life, My Training


stern 2.
A lot of times I train for my mind, probably more so than I train for my body.   I also train for pain.   I train for anger management.   I train to make sure I’m productive.   I train to remain disciplined.   I train to be committed about something because I’m not committed to a lot, besides personal growth, writing, poetry, education, reading and so on.   I train for therapy.   I train for strength and power.   I train to put fear in people when they look at my gigantic arms.   I train for every time I felt weak in childhood.   I train and train like a locomotive.

I used to train for the pump all the freaking time when I first started training back in two-thousand and three.   But this proved more for my ego and less to get me anywhere as far as gains were concerned.   Again, I train more for my mind and anger management than anything else.   I don’t eat good nutrition half of the time (unless I’ve made a conscious decision to do so for a lengthy period) although I would want to be more aesthetic looking at some point or other.   That’s another topic however.

This ties into how, who, what, where and when someone can’t understand why I may take a cup of caffeine to my system and go sixty straight minutes of cardio only to perform sixty straight minutes of weightlifting or more to no end.   They can’t understand why I do this.   They’re too busy assuming I wouldn’t be growing because I have no fuel in my system.   This is a load of bullshit!   Of course one can grow even though you didn’t eat beforehand.   What a load of crock shit!

It’s easier for someone to judge and say, “Oh this person is doing such and such wrong” as if they had all the fucking answers in the world to why you train and how you train and when you should train and whatever the fuck else.   Fuck them!   Half these people have never picked up a dumbbell in their life or know what polyunsaturated and monounsaturated fats are.   So a BIG FUCK YOU TO THEM!

I like to push my mind and body to places without food or water or music at times because I don’t want to be comfortable training in only one or two ways.   I don’t want to feel like I need to be on a full stomach in order to lift heavy or collect PR’s or do better rep-wise then the last time I did my routine and jot it down in my book.   Why would anyone want to train comfortable all the time?   How could you not long for an exit out of the comfort zone from time to time or every single time?

Many people don’t know how to mind their fucking business when it comes to you, how you train, what you eat or why you do the things YOU do.   Yet they’re too busy observing everything you do because they wish they could DO what YOU do.

They wish they had the ongoing motivation, passion, desire and the discipline to do everything you’re striving to perform day in and day out.   So whenever you do your own thing or turn your back on conventional methods, believe you me they are there to hunt you down waiting for the chance to lash at you and jump down your throat with how wrong they think you are because they’re a bunch of soft penises.

If you ever come across these unkind people just ignore them.   They don’t do anything to assist except help to make you vent on your fitness blog like me.   I’m very glad I never listened to anyone in my life.   I barely care about other people’s opinions and perceptions of me.   There are plenty of people who couldn’t handle my life or my fucking training.    As long as I know myself, why I do the things I do and am comfortable doing what I’m doing then all is right with me and the world.

They don’t need to exist in your world if you don’t allow them to, but let them continue to observe your life and how you train because there’s no doubt about it they’re making your importance valuable in their world.

-Pennington

Ardor


So I thought about you pressing me into the wall within the elevator metal ribs disregarding the camera spying from the top corner.  So I thought about the electricity conspiring against us because every woman wants you and every man desires me. And I could see our breaths suspend right between our spicy mouths before we come crashing into ecstasy of troubled ferocious passion.

So I thought about smiling drowning and happily suffocating under the mountains of your mesmerizing muscle-bellies.  So I thought about your penis and its girth a baseball bat and hung like a horse with veins the size of the snakes you have imprinted on your forearms and my vagina being pushed in out slow motion shamelessly promoting sexual commotion.

-Pennington©

Have Some Respect For The Craft Will Ya?



“Is anyone afraid or disheartened?
He should go back to his house,
or he might cause the heart of
his comrades to melt like his own.”
–Unknown

I have a friend who sometimes acts more like an associate depending on the many Subjects of Life.  (Who doesn’t?)  I want to know if anyone of you guys have a friend like this in your life:   The kind, who, in their own way means well on those aspects of life which you two AGREE upon.  But on the same token, their persona gets in the way of what it is you actually live everyday for.  In my case:  Training. 😉

Every once in a while he’ll invite himself (lately) or I invite him (usually says “no” because he’s lazy when it comes to physical labor of any kind.  Probably why he has a desk job?) to the Gym.  Things always start out well.  But he criticizes exercises, programs (like my current one) and even the amount of effort that must be put in to Lifts, at times.  And I can relate to this last thing whereas I’ve done it periodically myself:  He’ll like an exercise up until the point where I have to come over, whisper in his ear so he doesn’t feel embarrassed around others on how his form is off or shy of being completed.

But by far the thing I hate the most (probably because most men I’ve trained with or trained tend to be this way) is when he has to throw his ego into the lifting session by making absolutely sure he’s piling extra weight on the barbell or dumbbells, (even if it’s just 5-10lbs) for the sole purpose of beating me with numbers.

Rather than making this shit about me, I rather it be about the respect for fitness altogether whether it’s the process of a lift or the exercise itself.  Rather than get the basics of the deadlift form or heed my advice on how not to go about hurting himself, all he sees is the amount I’m doing (which isn’t heavy in my book at all: 145lbs) and how he has to go over it!  This has been this way for a fucking decade.

I told myself as long as he doesn’t increase the weight I’ll do him a favor (which isn’t a favor at all, just being spiteful) and let him believe he somewhat can handle the form of Deadlifting.  Second set came and he performed the same numbers.  Third set comes around and he has to stack 20lbs over.  During this time he was being overly confident and decides to ask, “How much you think my Max is?”

I didn’t give him full encouragement of any kind.  I kept it at the 200lb range for someone who prefers mall-walking to going to the gym to grind life and aggression the fuck out.  What he does?  Stacks 2 45lb plates to 3 plates.  With those 6 plates altogether there was no lift off and he could have really injured himself.  I can say I wouldn’t want anything to happen to him on my watch.  But, who am I fooling?  He fucking deserves it with his foolishness.

Ultimately my thing is I would like it very much if he and if anyone one of you know someone who has an aspect of their life they’re completely in love and infatuated with to just respect them and what it is they consider to be a craft from their heart and passion.  Don’t ruin it for them because that’s not what being a friend is about.  Plus it speaks of a character who displays contempt for what the other person does.

It’s hard to find someone who puts forth every bit of their being into something they truly enjoy.  But it’s even harder for the outside person who owns no passion but absolute bitterness to the world outside them and within to watch someone put their passion into their craft.  Of course it’s an envy thing.  How many people do you hear of loving exactly what it is they do in Life?  Not many.

Training is to abide what is true to you/me above all (and many times over anyone).  For a person to disregard a certain type of lifestyle in any form of way becomes an elite asshole for as long as I shall live and beyond.

Simple as that.

-Pennington

Role Model Nonexistent



There has never been a role model needed or called for in my life.  Sometimes I feel it’s unfortunate.  However it has it’s up sides as it has it’s downs.

I don’t look up to anyone other than myself, when it comes to the Training Life,  not only because (due to my high standards, determination, passion, morals and rarity) I’m comfortable in my own skin.  But because I’ve found no matter if a person is of either gender, works harder, shows better dedication, takes the Fit Life more serious than me at any given moment, are a Personal Trainer, Mixed Martial Artist or grand celebrity/athlete they tend to let me down in one way or another. Whether they allowed success or their extreme personality colors to shine too late, dive into an enormous amount of drugs/steroids/alcohol or have lied consistently or have in many regards cheated the system all the while turning the other cheek and selling out, I choose not to acknowledge the idiots of ill-norm bred society.

I can’t count the many times I’ve been let down by people in general. I know this is Life. But it still fucking SUCKS! I used to look up to Chyna! There was no one like her in the world to me. She had all the muscle, mental toughness, a tenacious domination aura with a no holds bar intimidation factor.  She wrestled with men, won the Intercontinental Championship, was the only female to get in the Royal Rumble due to her strong will and fearless determination. I adored her  when she started out as a Bodyguard on WWE. I adored her before she slimmed down. I adored her before she got plastic surgery to look more feminine. I even supported her when she posed in Playboy twice (though I didn’t agree with the decision at first..maybe, ever?). I watched the 1st season of Celebrity Rehab for Chyna. I was and am still very loyal to Chyna, thought I don’t know her personally (yet ;)). And in the end, it seems as if, she was just as fragile as most people in the world. Nothing wrong with this, except I didn’t think she would fall so high from the burly ninth wonder tower from which she stood.

I was looking for role models in the Bodybuilding/Figure World at one point…

I first came on board to the Fitness Life once I started working for a gym. (Before that I was working out for a little while, learning trials and errors.) Mostly, in hopes, of meeting Bodybuilders and Figure Competitors. And, far and few in between, whenever I saw one I would ask for tips on training or nutrition from the people I thought had it all, striations, the grainy appearance on their muscles, being a lean-mean-fat-burning machine! I would admire the few male/female Figure/Bodybuilders I’ve seen in New York.

I would compliment them on their discipline and physique. Some would take it well. Maybe 1 out of 5 would remain in the stage of being humble, forever devoted to fans and such. Some appreciated the fact that I knew, love and desired to learn more about the sport. Some were stuck-up bitches (and pricks!) that firmly believed they owned each step they walked on Earth!! Others thought that since I was being open and honest about admiring the Bodybuilders/Figure physiques, that, somewhere deep inside I must be a Lesbian.

During this time I notice quite quickly that most of these folks weren’t trying, weren’t open and didn’t give a fuck to be a role model to me or any other young person that came along. I’d established this at exactly the time I would ask most Bodybuilders questions to which they wouldn’t give me the time or day to answer: about wrist-wrapping, what’s the easiest way to perform a chin-up on your own, what do I have to do to be muscular, was low reps/heavy weight the answer, what would it take to be striated, lean, be a fucking work of art, a fucking machine, what supplements should I take, is it true women have a greater hassle trying to lose weight and gain muscle? Pretty much, almost every single one of them shut me down!

Why?

For wasting their time!? For not paying for their time!? For not making an appointment for a fitness assessment!? For them not wanting to help period!?  You know greedy fucks!

This in itself led me more than ever to being my own role-model and my own trainer full-time. I would set out to acquire my own techniques to build muscles, read up on whatever I could get my hands on, test everything, work with different trainers and gain new ground and perspective, wellness and health. This taught me a valuable lesson: In the end I’ am all I have. I’ am all alone.

I’ll say this.. in the present and future, people will ask me for my help (people have already) and some people will even be where I once was… But the difference with me is, though I may not agree with (humanity at all times), with what he said/she said, what the bible says, what the magazine states, what society breeds and though I may not personally like the person I’m helping, I’ll assist them because I know its tough!!

I will lead them to find a way and tell them there are multiple ways to get to your goals.  And there are always going to be hurdles along the way testing your will to make you doubt yourself just to see if it’s what you desire so much. I’ll take them on if they’re serious (and by serious) I don’t mean they have to pay me in order for them to receive valuable and vital information THAT I busted my ass to research, than try on myself as the guinea pig! All I expect from those who ask me now (and in the future as I get better) is for them to take the journey of training and health serious.

For them to be humble and gracious.. for them to be thankful, and intuitive.. for them to realize how important it is to learn self-control, to give way to self-discipline, to rely on yourself through the positive and darkest times, to conquer their fears, to be an individual, to be ahead of the game with their heart and eye on the prize. To understand thoroughly, that the Training Life, working for your Ultimate Physique isn’t only special because you can flaunt your body when the time comes (if one chooses), but it’s special because it’s an extension of identifying yourself, the good and all the ugly..working out the kinks by spiritual means.. It’s all about the fill of potential one offers.. But it’s a Lifestyle, a hand in marriage, a full life long commitment.

A lifestyle of serious business..
Learning to love yourself, while being your own role-model.

Pennington

You Have To Have Good Work Ethics


 

And you have to like to perform and work hard!

It’s that simple with the Training Life.  It’s not only about looking good and eating healthy.  Most people miss the mark with what’s truly needed to keep on going steady, day in and day out, year after year for working out.  It’s passion, determination, being accountable, self-motivation, tenacity, attitude, competition (with yourself or with others), defeating the constant negative talk with positive, seeing your vision, believing it, making it come true, having great work ethics, a form and an agreement with willingness, practicing discipline, making perpetual decisions, going through trial and error, frequent mantras/quotes to stimulate and re-motivate, dedication and much much more.

I don’t believe that only certain people have a good knack for being a hard worker than the next.  That some people are genetically built better or more suitable for it.  Nope!  That’s just a bullshit excuse on getting out of a hard-working situation. Look at how hard certain immigrants work to make their American Dream come true!  And look how lazy some Americans are never making their Dream for fear of success, for being comfortable in the known, rather than the unknown.

Do you think all the Figure ladies and Bodybuilder men made it on stage because they were genetically gifted?  Yeah, right!  They fought hard.  This is why many of them may appear as if they aren’t humble.  They WORKED for it!!  Besides work ethics and liking to perform hard..it’s about courage, about manifestation.  It’s all about how much willingness you have in the palm of your hand.  How far you’re WILLING to EXECUTE the plan.  It’s all about how much you’re willing to sacrifice for the greater good.  YOUR GOOD!

There’s no fucking secret!

Some people just happen to take things more seriously than others, whether it’s a career, a Fitness regimen, wanting to be the best mother/father in the world or being a great professor.  Everyone has their own thing.  But overall, it’s about the effort, the work, the sweat, the tears, the philosophy, the principles behind each and every one of those magnificent things.
Wouldn’t you agree?

I once had a female friend of mine hit me up on Facebook who saw my profile photo and instantly liked it.  She inboxed me and asked me, “I’m so jealous, how did you get your waist to look so tiny and your back to look so good?”  I told her, “Hard work. What you see in this photo is hard work, trial and error and the illusion of working on your best assets on your body.”  I gave her tips on what to do, how she can do it, etc.  But did she ever do it?  No!  Why?  Because the average person rather stay average by being lazy.  And that’s okay with me especially if that’s okay with you!  But as long as the average person can find comfort in being average, then that’s how your mind and attitude will be formed.

Pennington