The Badass/Manly Syndrome...or why everyone thinks they are awesome

So there I was sitting at a table at my favorite honky tonk. Minding my own damn business and taking a break from dancing with my beautiful dance partners. When one of my friends (we'll call him Caleb) gets in a bet with this other douchebag (we'll call him...douchebag) about who could chug faster. The conversation went something like this:

Douchebag: Bro, I bet I am the fastest chugger in this place.
Caleb (drunk): Bro, no way. Back in college I use to chug x amount of beer in x amount of time.
DB: Bro, then let's see who chugs faster
Caleb: 50 bucks and you're on.

So standard banter amongst idiot frat boys and well....morons. The whole time i'm thinking:
  That's fucking stupid why the the fuck does it matter? Mr. douche canoe thinks he is badass because he can out chug anyone here and my friend wants to challenge him because he thinks its manly? What is so goddam manly about 'opening your throat and allowing liquid to pour quickly down it?

Anyway I did not stay and watch the two fat bodies (yes they were both fat and thought they were the shit) chug. I was pissed and Salt and Peppa's Push It  was playing so I had to fuckin' spaz out and dance.

But it got me thinking...what does society think is manly? Why do so many think that such childish and petty acts make them manly? why are they arrogant? Simple answer: our standards as a society have dropped. Things like beer chugging makes men think that they are badass because they can perform such a simple feet quickly. This is a sickness. A syndrome.

How do we fix this shit? well sadly we cannot. The only thing we can do is personally vow to never do any of this shit.  A little self hate and humility goes a long way on this one. Get pissed at yourself for thinking that you are a badass. Even if you really are a badass. Stop it. Stop it now.

I read that the average man can bench his own body weight. Pathetic, considering the average man is a skinny fat weakling who looks like he has never touched a weight before. I use to think that Well im not super strong, but I'm stronger than the average bro. Bullshit. Total fucking bullshit. Just like half squats. and 21's for guns.

Anywhere on the internet you find badasses patrolling the forums, subreddits and blogs spreading their false sense of badassery. "look at me jump off this cliff into this water...I'm such a badass" or "look at me chugging this beer in .456 seconds" or "look at me shoot this big gun once". All total bullshit. You are not a badass. I am not a badass. The true badasses don't really know they are badass because everyday they are working their asses off to get better. To be content is to die the slow painful death of the syndrome. Nobody ever reaches their full potential because the truth is it is infinite. The pursuit of badassery is never ending.

Surprisingly my mom opened up my eyes to this. I was deadlifting in my garage and going for a PR. I hit my PR of 425 pounds and excited I run in and tell her "no big deal I just did 425". Her immediate response was "why not 450?"....I love you mom. Well, why not 450? I fucking suck and I'm weak. Time to work for 450. 

There is always someone out there who is bigger/better/faster/stronger/sexier than you. Think you are strong? just watch World's strongest man and be humbled. Think you are fast? Watch Usain Bolt. Think you are smart? Read about Einstein. Humble and hate yourself. Everyday I ask myself what I did to make my self better. If my answer is nothing I fucking hate myself and wake up pissed off and the next day I get shit done. I temporarily bask in my accomplishments and then hate myself for not doing more and work to achieve my next goal.

With that being said, don't take shit from weak and stupid assholes who challenge your manliness. Call that shit out. If some bro thinks he is badass because he can drink 20 beers and not get drunk then call him a bitch and point it out to him. Ask him how much he squats or deads. You owe him that much.

 I often ask men who don't lift 'Why don't you want to be strong?' and people think I'm an asshole for it. I mean, who wouldn't want to be able to move heavy shit with ease and be in shape? Truth is they are content being weak assholes and doing shitty and petty things to prove their manhood. Chugging beer is easy. Deadlifting is not.

More badass than you. And looks better in a singlet. Probably smarter. Shit.

Amateurs train until they get it right. Professionals train until they get it wrong.

Rant Post: Your Body is a Weapon

There is something I need to discuss with y'all. It's a concept/idea that I have been contemplating for many months. I usually forget about, then someone will anger me enough to contemplate it again (more on this in a little bit). It can be summed up in a simple statement: 'Your body is a weapon' or the 'Body-Weapon' concept.

How this all started: A few months ago I was standing behind the gun counter listening to some fat asshole brag to another fat asshole about how badass he was. He was a police officer, a pistol instructor and a black belt in karate. The whole time I am thinking: Ok, fatty, what the fuck are you gonna do when all shit gets real and you punch/ karate chop yourself in 15 seconds? all while I smiled, nodded and said, "that's cool, sir." It really doesn't matter if you're a black belt in anything, if all you can do is fight for 30 seconds before you're double over and winded.

I started thinking about the human body and how important is is to train it to withstand chaos and stress. You know, those two things that will make up a small percentage of our life, but most likely mean life or death? I mean, what good is going to do you if you go to the range, stand in one position and shoot paper. You could be a world class pistol shot standing still at 7, 15,25 or even a 100 yards, but what is gonna happen when your adrenaline is pumping, you're tired and your eyes are bugging out of your head? You're gonna die, fatty. It's kind of like the whole Level of Training thing I discussed a month ago.

You can shoot a golf ball at a gajillion yards with an ar-15? Too bad you can't see your toes. I don't feel safe with either of these guys protecting me.

Why do you think Navy SEALS, Green Berets and Delta force operators are in such badass shape? Because they acknowledge that just like their carbine their bodies are weapon systems as well. It would not be easy to swim a few miles onto a beach undetected, kill a bunch of shit and swim away quickly as a Navy SEAL if you were out of shape. HELL, it would not be easy to do so when you are in shape.

The Spartans knew how to do it (besides the whole sleeping with men and young boys thing). From a young age they conditioned their bodies and their minds. Were they really better fighters than most? Sure. Did the fact that they were physically hardcore-as-fuck help them outlast all opponents and have a higher Kill:Death ratio than Samson? you bet your ass.

Which brings me to another rant-point: Fat cops. It is known to many that I want to be a police officer. And I take this vow to them, and now publicly: I will never be a fat cop. I want to serve and protect my community and my state and I don't feel I can do that as a fatass. I don't even think criminals are afraid of fat cops. Maybe of their guns, but that's about it. I hold the belief that soldiers/police should be in a physical and mental condition to meet and excel in the most extreme conditions. 

Of course there is the rare specimen that is fat and athletic as hell (see: Roy Nelson). But these people are very rare. There is not much excuse to be fat now-a-days. The average American is fat. I caught myself thinking that, "Hey, I'm in better shape than the average American!" Fuck that. Truth is, the average American is a piece of shit. Being stronger/in better shape than the average American is like being richer than your average McDonald's burger-slinger.

Of course, your technical/tactical training is important as well. You shouldn't neglect that to make yourself physically better. I wouldn't want to fight alongside a person who can't shoot anymore than I would with someone with a size 46 waist. Range work and study is just as important. That's all I can really say on the subject.

Christ Costa is a believer in the Body-Weapon concept. In this picture Chris Costa is about .2 seconds away from shooting you in the nut sack.

Final Word: Whether you are a soldier, police officer or Average Joe make you're body a weapon. Train hard and train often. You're technical training will only get you so far if you are gassed halfway through a mission, foot pursuit or call. As always...Go workout. Stronger people are harder to kill.

Personal Heroes: Billy Hatebreed

This is post one about my 'personal heroes'. What is a personal hero? A personal hero is a role model who I look up to. Through them I try to emulate certain qualities or traits. No, I do not mean one of those feel-good, pussy role models who is a 'all-around great guy' in and out of the field/court/stadium. I'm talking about hardcore assholes who excel at stuff-and-things with ball-smashing efficiency.

This is the story of Billy Hatebreed.

When I first met Billy he was literally in between my legs.

Uhh WTF, Zach....Context please.

Billy and I were in the West Point grappling club together as plebes. I first met billy when I was literally beating him up (ask him, he'll tell you). He was in my guard (look it up) and I was working him over pretty good. I saw the last name on his PT shirt: 'Hatebreed'. In my head I thought "Why is this skinny asshole even trying to fight me?". I thought I was hot shit. I decided to remember his face and his name for later reference.

"Thanks for sparring with me man" he said.

No problem assclown, As i shook his hand and smiled.

Let me take a break and describe Hatebreed for you on the day I met him. He was about 6 feet tall and lanky. He looked like he couldn't even describe what a barbell looked like. He was, as he would say now, a Bitch and i think he would confirm that. He looked like he belonged at UCLA playing in the band, not at West Point grappling with the future leaders of America.

Fast forward a week and I meet this guy again in my friend's room. First thing I said was something to the effect of:

"Oh, shit. You're THAT Hatebreed. Good to see you again man."

We talked a bit more and I found out he was a central Texas asshole just like me. Awesome. Part way through the conversation he mentioned that he was a lifter. Bullshit was my first thought. Then I thought That's great, he needs some muscle.

Let me take yet another break and describe myself at that point. I was 5'10" and 175. I was also a bitch. I just didn't know it. I thought because I was a half-competent grappler that I was hot shit. I was not. I was a bitch. A skinny-fat bitch.

Anyway, Hatebreed starts lifting. As the months pass I start noticing his gains. I also notice that that motherfucker practically lives in the gym. When others are playing ultimate frisbee or tossing around a football, Hatebreed was picking up heavy shit and setting it down. He became one of the few people I knew who actually used the supplements that he bought. As his physical state changed so did his mental state. He not only became intense-as-fuck in the weight room, but intense-as-fuck every else that was appropriate.
 Hatebreed was (and still is) the stereotype that is meat head. He listens to metal, he takes supps and he lives in the gym. 

Fast forward (yes, again) to junior year at West Point. Billy was a noticeably person. He had added what I thought to be about 30 (I don't know for sure) pounds of muscle since I first met him. He was fuckin ripped up. I was a still a fat bitch.  Billy and I had become even better friends since we met. We hung out with mutual friends both at home and at West Point. While he got jacked I got injured and fat. I had turned into an even bigger piece of shit.

That was almost a year ago. In that time I have lost 55 pounds of fat, made considerable strength gains and became even less of a piece of shit. What does this have to do with Billy? A lot.

You see a few months ago when I decided to get off my lazy ass and stop being a bitch I pulled motivation from a) my hate for others, b)my hate for myself and c)other people (such as Billy). Although Billy never called me out on my piece-of-shitness he did so indirectly with his comments about others. He says things like 'being fat is fucked' and 'I hate how people let themselves turn into pieces of shit'.

I hear you, Billy, loud and clear. 

 I look at Billy now as an example of what I, and others, can do when we decide to go balls-to-the-wall insane on our goals. His experience taught me that Intensity and and bat-shit insanity can basically get you through anything. Even now when I find myself unmotivated I think of what billy would do in my situation. The answer is always the same. He would fucking work out. He is a personal hero of mine for this reason. I would also like to take this space to congratulate him on his accomplishments. His strength gains, his animalistic approach to strength training and his upcoming commission and graduation from West Point. Congratulations, buddy. You did it. You'll bring your intensity to the army where you will kick a lot of wholesale ass.

This is Billy deadlifting 505 pounds. Go ahead and call him a bitch. I dare you.

Final Word: Be like Billy. Get intense. Become and animal. Devour your goals. And for God's sake go fucking workout.

Your Level of Training

So I was watching The Art of the Dynamic Carbine the other day and I heard Chris Costa say something that really made me think:
"When your adrenaline is pumping and everything is in chaos you can only fall back on the level of your training"

Word.

If you don't know who Chris Costa is, google him. He is a combination of Jesus, Chuck Norris and Audie Murphy.

What does this sentence mean? Well I look at it from two different angles: From a fitness perspective and a shooting perspective. The concept is pretty easy to grasp once it is related.

Fitness
It is no secret that I think Intensity is the most important attribute to have when training as a serious athelete/ soldier/ mirror flexer. Without intensity your workouts are boring, unmotivated and probably pointless. Sure you can go to the gym, lift weights and eventually get big without any real intensity, but what fun is that? Why do you think people listen to metal when they lift. It's fucking intense. Why do you think there are bands called Cattle Decapitation and Cannibal Corpse?  because they are bat shit crazy. That shit jacks you up.  I have yet to meet a person (besides myself) who gets jacked up in the gym to gospel or oldies (I'm wierd, ok?).

"What does this have to do with your title?"

Getting there, Johnny Jantzen.

So you lift like a madman, you run like a mad man and you *gulp* even crossfit like a madman. Awesome. You are strong, fit and your conditioning is great. When it comes time to use this strength/ fitness/ conditioning in a life-or-death or chatoic situation (you know, when it actually fucking matters), you use it balls-to-the-wall. Why? Because you trained like a raging fucking asshole. The level that you trained at (regardless of lbs. you actually lifted) was so high that when life puts out those little speed bumps you crush them into the ground.

Fuck you, speed bump.

Compare this to the panty waste you see hanging around most gyms. Doing slow curls in the squat rack while admriing their size 17 biceps. Doing crunches on the mats only to get a look at the barely passable soccer moms doing pointless exercises on bosu balls. Hell, maybe they even lift correctly and do squats, dead and military press. But when they do there is no fire. They just "wanna get jacked, man." What's the goddamn point? You can pick up heavy things and put them down. When chaos is introduced will they attack it head on? Doubtful. I'd take the intense motherfucker who only benches 225 over the boring oaf who can press 350 to be on my team.

You just ran a marathon and you finsished in 2 and a half hours? Great. I just hit a tire with a sledgehammer for 5 minutes, averaged 15 hits per round and puked up my keto bruger. Oh yeah then I flipped the tired for 10 minutes. Fuck you.

Shooting 
This aspect is a little more technical (read: boring). I'll start with a story:

I went to the range the other day to do some drills (reloading, transitions, urban prone etc.) I like to consider myself and decent dynamic shooter. I am moderatley quick and accurate and I move better than most. But it had been a few months since I had practiced at all. I was rusty. I fumbled pulling my magazines out my kydex and was slow, very slow, to reload. I had let my training slip and it showed.

Basically, had I had to utilize my carbine and/ or pistol in a time-is-life, chaotic situation I would have been fucked. My level of training was low. I was like a beginner. Chris Costa would be ashamed.

It taught me a valuable lesson, however. I needed to train constantly and I needed to train hard. 
When I train in dynamic shooting I wear a plate carrier with two level III plates and 3 to 6 magazines plus additional gear. all in all weighting about 30-40 pounds. I can move around easily because, well, I condition like a goddamned asshole. Physical conditioning isnt my problem. My level of training is. I was almost embarassed.    

I could picture a nightmare scenario where I was in a firefight with a few baddies. Shit was hitting the fan. Chaos everywhere and there my dumbass was fumbling to get a magazine out my kydex. At the level I am now I wouldn't even want me on my Call of Duty clan much less in an actual squad level fire fight. Never again.

Final Word: When the adrenaline is going you start running on instincts. Your instincts are based on your level of training. Train hard, train regularly and for the love of all that is holy sweat a little when you workout. Don't be afraid to look like a gorilla when you do squats. Fucking put some heart into it.

Dat Beard! Chris Costa...

Go workout.

Training while injured

I would like to talk about something very near and dear to my heart...and my self proclaimed "Anger gland". I'll start with a story about my friend, Jim (That's what we'll call him):

Jim was a helluvan athlete. He could run, jump, catch, throw, hit and bench press a house. He was a varsity linebacker and one of my friends. One day Jim comes in complaing of pain in his neck and right trap. He plops down next to me and says, "Well Zach the trainer says I strained my trap pretty bad last week doing power cleans. Says I should lay off the weights for a few days."

Sounds like a good idea, Jim. Rest up and take it easy.

"But I think I'm gonna go knock out some light work in the weight room real quick."

Be careful Jim. Don't overdue it.

20 minutes later ambulances came to pick up Jim. He had torn his right trap doing light shrugs. Jim was injured and he knew it. Jim decided to lift anyway and ended his very promising football career. Jim earns a dumbass rating of: Joe Biden.

You may be thinking "Cool story, bro. What's your point?"

Before I continue let me first differentiate between being hurt and being injured. If you are walking in the middle of the night to go take a piss and you stub your toe on the coffee table then you are most likely only hurt. If you are lifting weights and you feel a sharp unnatural pain in your (insert muscle here) you are most likely injured. If a medical professional (you know, one of those guys who actually knows what the fuck they are talking about) tells you to lay off the training for a few days then LAY OFF THE FUCKING TRAINING. If you're pal Charlie (you know, you're dumbass beer drinking buddy without the PhD) says "nah man you'll be fine. Don't be a pussy" then punch him the dick and call him an idiot (after he buys the beer of course). You're not going to lose 10 pounds of muscle in your biceps because you took a break from curling in the squat rack for a week.

On a personal note I have pulled my bicep many times in high school while curling. But I was a badass of course and curled again two days later. My bicep was so sore I couldn't curl again for two weeks.

"But I don't want people to think I'm a bitch if they see me taking a a few days off from working out"

Well, nancy, you're going to look like an even bigger bitch when that severe calf sprain turns into a calf tear and you are forced to do curls in the squat rack and bench press while your legs wittle away into noodles as they take months to recover from your dumbassery.

Of course not every injury can turn serious, but why risk it?

"But Zach, I don't want to let my team/squad/girlfriend/ Personal Jesus down by not being able to workout/ perform while I am recovering."

You will let them down even more if you turn this injury into something serious and you end up being down for weeks or even months instead of a few days. Don't be a stupid ass.

This is not to say that you have to stop working out completly while you heal. If I strain my quad, what stops me from doing some bench press, flys, curls, overhead press etc. ? Nothing. Don't use that as an excuse to not workout completely. I hate that almost as bad as people who try to train through a bad injury. I will never call someone a bitch or a dumbass for injuring themselves doing athletic things. I WILL however call someone a bitch or a dumbass for injuring themselves further by training while injured.

If you love training as much as I do, injuries can zap your morale and recovery/rest days are things you don't look forward to. Think about it this way though: If you hate rest days it is better to take a few now than to further injure yourself and be on "rest weeks" or "months" because your dumbass wanted to be hardcore and "train through the pain."

If you are Hurt , however I expect you to harden the fuck up and train. A jammed toe does not excuse you from squatting, Mr. Bitch. Take care of yourself. Keep yourself healthy. Whether you're a soldier, athlete or average joe like me it is important that you take care of your body. The squat rack can wait for you to do curls in it for a few days and you won't die while you rest due to lack of metal music induced rage-grunting that you normally hear from your workout partner as he knocks out a set of sweet hip abductors performed on a machine.

(on a side not: Don't you ever fucking do shoulder press on a machine. If you want to be fucked above in your shoulders then go for it. They allow 0 range of motion while process and essentially 'lock' your shoulders while pressing)

Final Word: If you're injured, take a break. If you are hurt, stop being a bitch. It's that simple. Take the time to rest and get strong again in a few days. The better you take care of yourself, the stronger you will be in the future. Stronger people are harder to kill. And to steal a line from Tim Kenndy and Ranger up: "Stay angry my friends"

Gunter here complained of pain in his elbow before he went on stage to PR. Gunter wrecked his shit. Gunter won't PR again for a loooooong time.

Go workout. Unless you are injured. In which case, carry on.  

Stopping Power: Handgun Edition

"I would never carry a 9mm! Not near enough stopping power. I want a round that will put someone down."

Really now, superman? How about I shoot you in the chest with a 9mm see if that puts you down. Ass clown.

I hear this uttered almost everyday as a gun salesman at a large sporting goods retailer in Texas. Everyday we get some gun noob in the store looking for a gun for self defense. The inevitable question is: "What caliber should I get?" My answer is always the same.

Take your ass down to the local gun range and fire a pistol of each caliber you are thinking of then come back and buy what you are comfortable with.

Everytime, however, we have the know-it-all customer standing by who will say something to the effect of: "Oh you have to have a 44 magnum because it's the only round that will stop somebody" or "don't buy a 9mm that wouldn't even phase someone, just piss them off."

Ok, dipshit. What is more effective? a)3 well placed shots of 9mm to the chestplate or b) 1 off the mark shot of 44 magnum

"What about when an assailant is on drugs or under the influence? A 9mm wouldn't stop them!"

Well moron chances are if a few well placed shots of 9mm wont stop someone then you are fucked to the nth degree. I hope you've been playing plenty of call of duty and working on your headshots. That 10th prestige has to count for something, fatass.

The truth is whether you are carrying for CCW, duty or home defense you need a round that you can accurately and effectively engage a target with. For me that is a 9mm or 357 Sig. For some it may well be a 44 magnum revolver. Here is a quick breakdown of some of the more common calibers from my amateur point of you:

380- Basically a necked down 9mm. Popular because it usually is fired by a very small frame pistol which is easy to concel. Not very powerful, but will definitely do the trick. Ammunition is moderately expensive. Will kill someone if fired effectively.


38 Special- Very popular with wheel gun carriers for its decent power and moderate accuracy. Will kill someone if fired effectively.

9mm- This round is the standard for many police officers around the world. A very fast, very accurate round. Ammunition is dirt cheap and price allows for more practice. My favorite round. Will kill someone if fired effectively.

357 Sig- The 9mm more awesome younger brother. It's fast and power and accurate! It's also very expensive. It will kill you about as well as anything else. Will kill someone if fired effectively.

40S&W-Became pretty popular within the last twenty years. People call it the perfect balance between 9mm and 45 acp. These people are sheep. Will kill someone if fired effectively.

45 ACP-The favored round of the nostalgic, gun loving, american redneck. This round is rumored to be so powerful it can kill an elephant. Seriously, though. 45ACP is very powerful, but it is large. Most magazines will hold 7 or 8 rounds tops. Also very expensive rounf to shoot. Will kill someone if fired effectively.

357 Magnum- Sure, why not. Author of Understanding Firearm Ballistics, Robert Rinker, infers that this is the most effective personal defense round to date. He bases this off of multiple tests which evaluated factors such as speed, energy transfered, cross sectional area, expansion etc. Have fun practicing at the range with this round. At about 25 dollars a box you can almost smell your money burn with the gun powder.  Will kill someone if fired effectively.

44 Magnum- Fuck you, Dirty Harry.

500 S&W-Unless you are hunting a 1000 pound boar in africa or expecting to be mugged by a lion walking in downtown austin there is no reason to carry this revolver. For personal defense. "Yeah I conceal carry a 500 mag."
Really, mother fucker? I could drive home, pick up my 9, drive back and shoot you by the time you pulled that 1,000 inch barrel out of your shorts, fatty.

I also noticed that usually the fatter a person is, the larger caliber pistol they claim to conceal. Like they are trying to say "I can't see my penis...or my toes, but it's ok because I am concealing a 454 Casull right now"

If you haven't caught on by now my theory on stopping power and caliber selection is simple. Each round has the potential to kill someone just as dead as the other, provided the shooter can accurately and effectively put rounds on target. Not every average joe or jane can one hand a Smith and Wesson 686 revolver. If you can good for you. Now shut the fuck up about it and go work out.

In the end does it really matter whether the round in the chamber is a 38 special, 357, 44 or 500 Magnum? Let's see if looking down the barrel of any firearm would be the instant cure for a bad guy's constipation.

"It's only 10 pounds..." thoughts on Intensity and Motivation.

These words coming out of my best friend's mouth made me laugh.

"You'll find out," I told him.

I handed him a 10 pound plate and proceeding to muscularly and psychologically murder his shoulders with my 10 pound plate workout. Granted this was 6 years ago and at 16 years of age both my friend and I had no idea what we were doing training-wise. But it was Intense. Our only motivation was to "get jacked" and it's all we need to hit the weights 5 days a week. Our motivation was there. I was young and on top of the world. I was a varsity athelete who had just been accepted to attend the United States Military Academy Preparatory school. I was going to be a soldier.

Fast forward 5.5 years. I'm out of shape, overweight, single and down on my luck. I'm sitting in my room playing XBOX 360 when all of a sudden something hit me like a ton of bricks. I'm a bitch. Not just any kind of bitch. I'm a fat bitch. Something clicked in my brain. I turned off my XBOX and immediately started reevaluating my current station in life. I needed to lose weight, get back in the Lacrosse and Army shape I was in, save money, etc. I was going to go from bitch to badass.

Immediately the planning started. I bought a large tractor tire, a sedgehammer and a few 40 pound bags of deer corn. I found a good diet and began my journey...But it wasn't easy. I worked out solid for 4 weeks. I flipped that tire and carried those bags and swung that hammer. Then I got lazy. I became a bitch again. And for a whole month I neglected my workouts expecting my diet to work like magic. Sure I lost weight, but I also lost what little in conditiong and strength I had built up. Again there I sat watching old reruns of Futurama and I realized Even if i lose weight I can still be a bitch...I'll just be a skinny bitch.

Fuck that.

I got up, put on my shoes and immediately started flipping that tire. I haven't stopped working out since. That was 3 months ago. I am about 30 pounds lighter than I was then. I dropped 4 inches in my waist and even was getting noticed again. I had results. I mean, look what I have accomplished! Life is good, right? Wrong.

Fuck that.

It is never good. What I mean by that is this: Complacency kills. I am not finished. My results are shit and my gains are small. I am still weak, chubby and soft. I will not be done until I am dead and in the ground. Life is not good. Fuck this, fuck that, fuck my selfish ex, fuck my job, fuck all those no-good shattered dreams. All of these thoughts raced through my head

"Time!" Johnny yells.

I stop and put down the sledgehammer. I am damn near frothing at the mouth. I had just completed a 5 minute tabata sledgehammer workout. I had just gone bat shit fucking insane on this tire in front of me.

"That was fucking intense, " he says.

I slowly sat down with my hands over my head. My body was tired. I was still angry. I went upstairs angry. I showered angry.

Fuck this, fuck that, fuck my selfish ex, fuck my job, fuck all those no-good shattered dreams I kept repeating in my head.

I woke up the next morning angry and continued my day angry (internally). My motivation is simple. I take all the little things in my past that I do not like or that has caused me some kind of pain. And I store it. until workout time. It's like a pandora's box of of bad memories and repressed insanity. Before a workout I am never particularly excited about it. In fact I am a little nervous and a little uneasy. But the moment that timer starts I open that box. Nothing else matters.

Thwomp, thwomp thwomp.

I am going bat shit fucking insane on that tire again.

Everyday when I workout I open my box of anger and I let it motivate me. In turn it increases my intensity. In a way, I am grateful for the shitty things that have happened in the past. They make me better for the future. Give it a try. Get mad somehow. Think of your past. Think of all the people who have fucked you over. Think of the rough times and the bad people. Have them help you. In a few months I plan on thanking every single person who has screwed me in the past.

Thanks for the anger. It helped. Oh, and fuck you. Have a nice life.

It works kind of like this:  I am the samurai and the head represents the workout that I just murder-raped.

FINAL WORD: Get off your ass and go work out. Don't be a bitch. I've been there. It's not fun. Find your motivation. Get angry if you have to. If it helps, take off your shirt, stand in the mirror and let your bitch-tits piss you off.