Five Down From Friday

Fat Guy is third from left, with prop.

TGIM. 

So much has already happened today, Monday, that paring it all down to one topic is challenging. Regardless of my executive editorial decision, the one that I feel is most interesting, and although not bleeding, will lead nonetheless, is this:

It is Day Four. My fourth day of immersion into the frightening and intimidating space known simply as the Ten Day Intensive, or in acronym form, the TDI.

I recapped Saturday’s nightmare as well as yesterday’s test in earlier posts, but today, (and I thought about this last night as I searched for inspiration, or at the very least immediate motivational gratification) will I get a shot-in-the-arm rush of validation once the morning’s two sessions, a lifting set early and a spin class after, are over and I towel-off and climb aboard the balance scale? In other words, will the ends justify the painful means? Will A = B? Am I on the right path? Will whatever slight reduction of gross body weight re-ignite the turbo-charger of my soul and thereby give me the strength to continue? 

We are hoisting a buck ten on the bench. Today we are doing three sets of nine, followed by what we call the lightning round, five reps at each of the four tilt position on the rack. This after our standard dumbbell set and step ups, this set following the floor routine of planks and stretches, all in the allotted half hour. Junior needs to shower, eat and catch the school bus and I need to haul ass to the club for my class. Today class being a set I call the BTA8, better than average eights. It is similar to Super Eights but I leave the ratio of resistance to cadence up to the individual. One can go all-out, 85%, or at whatever range feels appropriate. Kind of gym-class freedom. I illustrated the importance of responsibility hiding cleverly inside this protocol. 

We finish, it was difficult, especially since my handlebars fell off near the start of set one and I choose to stay aboard and ride it out in what felt like full aero position, and I am walking towards the shower room thinking again about the ‘proof in the pudding’ thing. 

I shower in the luxurious club facility often and when I do it is a long, hot and soapy affair, almost a poor man’s massage. I linger under the hot jet spray today because my neck is a little tight most likely due to yesterday’s two-hour movie ride from the front row.

I am talking about Saturday’s Husky game with a OSU Beaver grad as I dry. We curtail our conversation temporarily as he heads for his locker and I begin the short walk towards the tell-tale scale. 

I hang my towel and stand naked to the reality of my self induced purgatory. I remember so vividly my desire for an IPA as the Huskies struggled offensively on Saturday and yesterday as the week wound down and I made the telephone rounds with family and friends. 

Calling to mind the starting number, as measured in pounds, from Friday, a mere three days ago, I widen my eyes to see if the number is correct. It is, I determine and step off the scale with bravado, feeling as light as a defensive back, five down from Friday.