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Necromancer
04-26-09, 1:32 am
So my journey meets Animal. I've been hitting the weights since I was 15, non-stop, most every week, till this, my 38th year trudging the planet. Since my early 20s my weight game has been mine and mine alone; no training partners, no distractions. Just a couple of trusted trainers with their heads screwed on and a propensity for sports nutrition to run ideas past.
So why am I here? Well, it's always good to reset yourself. New goals have added impetus to training over these 23 years. Perhaps it's time to be publicly accountable.
What do I want at this point? I asked myself this question for the past couple of days. To be bigger? To be stronger? That has come. That has always come. But to reset myself I need to know more. I need to know the reasons why it is I train.
And as I looked inside I saw that, at the core, my lifestyle isn't to be bigger, to be stronger. These are just physical triggers that allow me to be happy, to be at peace with myself.
And there it is right there: I train to be happy and find peace. It's why I have pursued it all this time.
Big is good. Strong is good. But these things are only a reflection of my state of mind. If I have satisfied myself at the gym, in the nutrition stakes, then I will be at ease. I will be happy. Plain and simple.
It's funny how the bottom line can get so lost under so much bullshit.
So I take a new step in my journey with a new clarity of mind.
If it is to be, then it is up to me.

deanna7272
04-26-09, 2:06 am
Great post....

Welcome and best of luck with your renewed vision...

Necromancer
04-27-09, 4:23 am
As I walked out of the gym this morning, I said g'day to one of my mates, a personal trainer who is also a footballer of some accomplishment. I asked him if he scored in his game on the weekend.
``Three times,'' he said with a rueful smile. ``Nice,'' I responded, then enquired why he wasn't especially pleased.
The thing was, even though he had a blinder on a personal level, his team still lost.
Now don't get me wrong: I can be a team player. I have to be a team player every day at work. It's good to share successes and failures, no doubt. Being part of a bigger group is a major part of this life, and if you struggle, you're going to struggle for total fulfilment.
But the iron game?
I'm my own team. Have been for so long now I can barely remember. No training partners; just me, my wraps, my belt, my ipod and a low-brow cap.
You see, you can play the game of your life in a team sport and still lose. That's why I love the weights.
Winning or losing? That's up to me. I wear my victory every day when I've smashed it in the gym. There's nobody on this team to let me down except me.
My game is in my hands. Now that's my kind of shit.

Necromancer
04-30-09, 1:18 am
I've learnt my lesson for the week.
I'm inclined to be pissed off at myself, but thanks to the wisdom of some maturity, I instead afford myself a rueful grin and learn my lesson quickly.
You see, I was cranking through a chest workout yesterday, full of my Paks, Audioslave slammin through the pod, going hard. And then I got to the incline flyes.
The good news is I set a personal best. Yeah, 37 and still getting better after all this time. That's the good bit.
The thing is this: I set the PB easy. Looked at the dumbbells I've always flyed up to, then thought, `Fuck no. My journey has been reset.' So I reached for the next weight up: five reps. Put `em down. Rested. Up again. Five reps. Hard fucking work. But pretty good form.
So why my angst?
The ease with which I hooked in made me think long and hard about my workouts. If I did `em no worries, why haven't I taken them on long before? I mean, I don't beat around the bush when it comes to my workouts I go hard. I choose to train alone, but then nobody asks to train with me either, cause it's an intense affair.
But the more I thought about it, the more I was sure I'd unconsciously set my intensity within parameters. That's kinda giving me the shits, just quietly. You don't get to any place special without an extraordinary intensity.
I looked at those dumbbells this morning, still musing why I didn't push the envelope before.
Because they aren't a primary bulking evercise for me? If an exercise is worth doing, it's worth being fair dinkum.
Because I'm worried so much weight in a fly motion could cause injury? Shit, the leg workouts I do could cause a fatality.
Because nobody else does flyes that heavy?
Or is it just because I'm lazy? But I'm sure I'm not. I ache most days and I like it.
All this thinking with no answer. Perhaps I just limit myself. Perhaps that's a failing I need to look at as I move ahead.
Yesterday I set no limit and was rewarded. So instead of being troubled now I take my lesson on the chin and move on.
Set no limits. Know no boundaries. Be the best you can be. Every day, every workout.

Necromancer
05-01-09, 7:18 am
I've given myself an absolute caning in the gym this week. I caught myself noticing how I still recover from heavy-duty sessions just the same as I always have as though it was a lucky thing, but then I stopped and thought about it.
The maths is this: I've been training most days since I was 15. I'll hit 38 in August. That says I'm a lifter for life. It also says I've been under an Olympic bar for the past 23 years.
Now ... let's say I make it to the ripe old age of 90. I say I'll be hauling on the plates till my last breath even if they're a nursing home's 10 pounders so that gives me a lifting lifespan of 75 years, yeah?
So in the grand scheme of things I say I'm hitting my prime at 40, and then I'm keeping it there for a good while. I'm not even at the summit.
I learned a lot about the expectations I place on myself earlier in the week. So with my new clarity of mind it's time to reset my expectations of my journey.
And I tell you it fills me with fire to know that I'm still building towards something special. All that blood, sweat and tears. All the freezing mornings shivering in the squat rack. All those 40-degree plus days busting my balls, rusty dumbbells in my sweating grip. Brick by brick, inch by inch, I build my legacy. And I'm far from done.
Once upon a time as an impatient young man I would have found this realisation a problem to be shot down, stomped on, crushed with single-minded intensity. But these days I can see the work that lies ahead as a fucking honour, a privilege to be savoured and looked forward to.
A wise man once told me youth is for learning, age is for understanding.
There's no other point in life I'd rather be than right here, right now.
Bring this shit on.

Necromancer
05-10-09, 2:17 am
I set myself a new goal this week. I think I'm a lot better at it these days. Once upon a time I'd reset myself with big, vague goals: I'm gunna get fucking huge. I'm gunna turn
myself into an escaped lab experiment. I'm gunna get so big every man and his dog will
just leave me alone.
And I did do ok setting the bar that high, driven by the monster of discontent. But I reckon I could have got where I was going with a lot more efficiency if I'd of broken it down.
Now? I still set goals. But I'll get specific. The thing with goals, I've found, is that if you set the bar too high, somewhere in your head you know there's nothing specific to get a handle on. It's hard to keep the intensity if you can't see the finish line. And if you don't hit the finish line, there's no sense of achievement to drive you further.
So I set my bar: a five-kilogram gain, or 11 pounds old school. A bodyweight I've been at before, for sure, but not at this bodyfat. A simple goal to set in the back of my head like the drip of a tap.
I know what to do. I know what to eat. Up my protein, double some paks. It's not rocket science. I used to almost write a thesis in my quest for size. Now I simply revel in the
discipline required. It's what defines me. So I release the monster within, the bait within
striking distance. Let's get it on.

J D R
05-11-09, 1:39 pm
great posts man really motivational
thats what its all about, going all out, every rep of every set of every workout
thats how we do it

wedge
05-11-09, 1:59 pm
Welcome aboard bro. Keep this shit coming.

Necromancer
05-13-09, 4:35 am
Thanks guys. Frankly I'd write a bit more but there's just so damn much to read around here that I get sidetracked sometimes. This really is a house of learning. I guess I've been round the block enough to say with great certainty that a place like this, that can combine balls-to-the-wall training ideology with such a spirit of community, is rare indeed. Modern technology and Animal bring a rare breed together who walked alone for such a long time. So I'll harness the goodwill and brotherhood and wield it against the iron. And I'll soak up the tips and advice while reminding myself every day that knowledge is only power when you put it to use.
Train hard brothers.

Necromancer
05-14-09, 5:53 am
I bunged a bit extra on the skullcrushers today. Love the exercise, love loading up and the discipline of form. In my quest to add a little size I'm feeling charged. Plenty of protein and carbs. Double Paks and Nitro ... the whole business. Anyways, I added my extra plates and got underneath it. First two came ... third was a gut-buster. Fourth halfway, then the law of gravity clamps down against the palms of my hands. The bar hovers, then down she comes to terra firma.
Failed? Defeated? I guess it comes down to how your define your failures and defeats. The most successful people in this world have also failed the most. It's how you grow: just like a tree shedding it's leaves. Growing a ring. Coming up again. Year after year, not to be denied ... from the acorn the mighty oak grows. Over and over my defeats and failures add to my success. I've learned to embrace them. I can't go ahead without missing a lift.
There is no dishonour. When it comes to the iron, there is no failure when the intensity is pure. It doesn't matter who you are. Think about it. When I see an out-of-shape bloke in the gym having a dead-set red-hot go, he's got my admiration as much as any big motherfucker with an olympic bar yo-yoing across his traps. The weight is no longer the focus, the energy. It's the intensity.
I walk through the day with sore triceps to remind me of my lesson taken.
It's not what you're capable of; it's what you're prepared to do.

Necromancer
05-17-09, 3:44 am
I contemplate the coming week pondering the end of last week's training. Back training is the finish line: save the fun stuff for last, I always say. But Friday's workout? It was OK,
but I wasn't right on my game, and it's given me the shits, too, because I know my rest and diet were where I wanted them to be all week. Just a bit on my mind is what it came down to. Nothing too serious just distractions that I let in. Eager to get stuck in, I failed to take five lousy minutes to just sit down, breathe and focus.
But fuck that. It's not going to happen this week. I've done my times tables.
I took a quiet moment at home, closed my eyes, and got in touch with the feeling I've had all weekend. The downer of knowing that, after such a good week, I didn't finish off my week of training with a hammer blow. I took the dissatisfaction and multiplied it by a week. A week of training well without taking it to the limit. How pissed off would I be then? After that I times it by a month. An entire month knowing I hadn't nailed it properly once. Then a year. I sat there concentrating, fully feeling a year of missing my mark. It made me feel downright sick. Would I have made much progress? I doubt it. Would I have got injured? Probably, if I wasn't paying enough attention. And beyond all of that, I felt the shame of letting myself down. Of letting my legacy down. How would I be carrying myself then?
Fuck ... that feeling was utter shit. It was like I'd betrayed what defines me.
I took a moment, emptied my thoughts and feelings, then switched it up.
I imagined if I'd smashed it in that back workout on Friday. The feeling of accomplishment all weekend. Multiplied it by a month. Felt the pride and accomplishment. Then times it by a year. Twelve months of never, ever missing a beat. How good would I feel? How far would I go on my journey with a year like that? I felt a million times better, more fulfilled, than I had just a minute before.
A dose of pleasure and a dose of pain. A tonic to get me on my game.

Necromancer
05-18-09, 4:58 am
Things are coming along nicely in my quest for a little more size, but today I noticed as I asked myself ``Am I smoothing over now?'' I've been at this weight before, but not this lean. I'm now forging into new territory, but the kicker is this: because I've usually started storing a bit more bodyfat around about now, will I make it happen again by simply by looking out for it?
It's like the proverbial bloke who crashes into the only power pole in miles. Studies have shown that kind of shit happens because people focus on the pole. Maybe they were focused on avoiding the bastard, but simply because they concentrate on it in some capacity, they hit it.
So am I focused on the wrong thing? Am I asking myself the wrong question?
Is it possible I've conditioned myself to reach a plateau simply because I hit it years ago and presumed that it would always remain? To be perfectly blunt: fuck that. I refuse to define myself within the parameters of my own limitations. There is no honour in that. And I've set a suitable process to blast through to the other side.
Next time I notice I'm wondering if I'm smoothing over a bit too much, I'm going to imagine a grand piano dropping 20 storeys and smashing the thought to bits. Fucking black-and-white keys everywhere. It's a ridiculous thought I know, but here's the kicker: it's so silly it'll interrupt my pattern of thinking. Like scribbling a knife across a CD. Do it enough, and soon the notion I might be getting too out of shape will do nothing more than make me grin and think of falling pianos. The musical crash will be a signal to focus on how good I feel and not on my doubts.
I will avoid the power pole. I will be my best, and I refuse to allow my history to get in the way.

Necromancer
05-24-09, 1:45 am
Another day, another week of grinding it out under the weight of the iron ... but wait.
Says fucking who? For what reason should the next seven days of my training schedule not be a career highlight?
I refuse to accept this coming week as average. I flat out fucking refuse. Last week, with all its successes and failures, is gone to me. Next week does not exist yet. I choose to live this week in this week alone. Here is my pledge in this domain, the only one I will accept accountability. Let it be known that I will be undivided in my focus. I will gently but firmly push away any distractions without fuss or fanfare. I will savour the chance to train, to walk out of the gym pumped, satisfied.
Despite the ferocity of my commitment I will listen carefully to my body, its reactions, and adjust my response. Every Pak, every ounce of water, every carb, every gram of protein will go down the hatch. I commit to good sleep. I will wake sore and satisfied each day but charged for the workout ahead.
My bedrock of training will give me the foundation for everything else important in my life this week: my wife, my work, my mates. I have seen this week ahead so clearly and with such assuredness that I know it will happen.
I will not get this week back. I've got one shot at it. And I refuse to let it slip by.
Crisp autumn mornings. A deserted gym with nobody but the truly dedicated.
What better place than here? What better time than now?
All I need is within me.
Peace.

Necromancer
05-25-09, 6:40 am
I'm not a big eater. Never was. Already painfully thin as a child, my appetite was never really there through school. It was the first thing to disappear as the result of the trauma of constant bullying. A catch 22: smashed for being the smallest, yet unable to make myself any bigger to avoid it. But this lifestyle has taught me to overcome, and I have learned my lesson well. Away from school at last I trained myself to eat big. I remember squatting in the corner of a kitchen with my best mate years ago after the last meal of the day, concentrating on holding down a half-litre protein shake with all my might so I could go to bed an lie down without all that food spilling back up my throat.
Just 112 pounds the original weakling at age 15, I became 220 by my 21st birthday. Simply put, I ate like a motherfucker.
That was 16 years ago now ... but it's still a chore. Meal No.5 is the killer. Last meal at work, last meal of chicken and rice for the day. Big test of will. I sit here now, chewing, swallowing; over and over until this container is empty. No cheating. Just empty the fucker. When I get home it's my wife's cooking. Fresh fish. No chores there.
But I will chew on unhindered in my resolve, just like I learned to swallow pills way back when I discovered the Paks. No pill swallower was I; something in that mind of mine used to tell my throat something hadn't been chewed and I'd roll around gagging like a sissy. The Pak forced me to change all that. If I wanted the best supplementation I could find, I had to swallow pills. Plain and simple. So I hardened the fuck up and took my medicine. Was it that simple? Yes, actually, it was.
So I chew patiently on, telling myself this is exactly what I've worked out will help me grow. I tell myself my body is regenerating from this morning's workout even as I eat now. I remind myself I'm fuelling my legs up for the mother of all squat sessions tomorrow. I tell myself all of this and push through meal No.5.

osiris
05-25-09, 8:57 am
awesome thread mate. Will make this my new haunt.
Who knew an aussie could be so deep?? (just kidding bro)

Necromancer
05-27-09, 3:57 am
Cheers mate. It's all the beer down here in Oz that gets us philosophical. Love those carbs! Train hard brother.

Necromancer
05-27-09, 7:20 am
1 x M-Stack, t-minus 45 minutes
1 x Pump, t-minus 30 minutes
1 x Nitro, t-minus 15 minutes

3 x breaths in a corner of the gym (7 seconds in, 28 seconds hold, 14 seconds out)
1 x Faith No More's Gentle Art Of Making Enemies, 1 x Rage Against The Machine's Bulls On Parade (ipod, on repeat, just for today)

Smith machine military press
15 x bugger all (warm-ups, 2 sets)
8 x 90
7 x 180
6 x 220
6 x 220; drop set 90 to failure

Side laterals
6 x 45
6 x 50
6 x 50

Bent over laterals
6 x 66
6 x 66
6 x 72

Giant set: cable laterals, front, side, rear x 12 each movement

Rest between sets: 40 seconds. Workout time: 23 minutes

1 x naive comment from personal trainer on my way out: ``Mate, that wasn't very long. You sure you've done enough?''

1 x smiled reply: ``Mate, I don't charge by the hour, I charge by the second.''

It's not how long, it's what you do. Life's short. Boogie til ya puke.

Necromancer
05-28-09, 5:25 am
Stagnant. 1. (of liquid) motionless, having no current. 2. (of life, action, the mind, business, a person) showing no activity, dull, sluggish.

Ego can get in the way so much in this game. Putting it in check, making sure you can differentiate between flat-out ego and self-assured pride, is sometimes the difference between getting ahead or getting stuck in an unproductive rut or even worse yet, getting injured.
The problem I find myself faced with today is that my body's starting to stagnate. I'd made some good gains, made a pledge to add another five kilos, and I've been making steady progress with a couple of kilos in the right direction. But I know my body well. I get this feeling when I start to plateau hard to describe, but it's like a sluggish kinda feel, for want of a better term and I know I'm starting to get it. I hate quitting, and not achieving my stated goal grates on me, but I think I have to push my ego to the side and look at the bigger picture.
I think to move forward with efficiency now, I have to switch it up. I haven't played around with my carbs in ages, so I'm going to pull out some starchy carbs for 14 days, up some cardio, ease up on the biggest lifts to give my body a break. Then I'll dump the carbs back in to hit the anabolic rebound past my plateau. I've done this before and I know it works well for me. I have to keep my progress on the move.
And it starts tomorrow, not after the weekend. I've always left it too long before, not wanting to ease up on the poundages, not wanting to lose that feeling of being pumped up 24/7. My ego dictated: man, you want to look big, you want to feel big just keep going. But level pride tells me I will judge myself on my final objective, and on having passed all the tests that came my way on the journey. I have learned from the past. I won't let my body become still.
The road to the big goal isn't always in a straight line.

Necromancer
06-07-09, 4:40 am
The only way I can possibly turn the drudgery of cardio into something fulfilling is to turn up the mental intensity. Make it a challenge. Sure, I could be hitting the walking trail outside around the lake, and sometimes I do - but as monotonous as the gym treadmill is, I can control my pace and output completely. Plus there's no passers-by, looking, judging, waiting for me to be safely out of sight before they can puff their chest out, bow their arms out, laugh with each other. Trying to make themselves feel better for being wretchedly and self-indulgently out of shape by mocking someone with a little commitment.
Yeah, dropping carbs is a bitch. But it's been a time since I've manipulated carbs, and I embrace the discipline. And on the treadmill I focus like all fuck. First five minutes becoming aware of my heartbeat. Then moving that heartbeat with my mind's eye until it's thumping the fuck away, not in my chest, but in my abdomen. Feeling the fat cells sizzling, burning up as they flow through my veins. I looked ahead, seeing nothing, aware of anyone or any movement in the gym as nothing more than an energy source with no shape. Obsessed with burning fat. Burning it. Smoking it the fuck up like Goodyear rubber on the asphalt.
Every turn this journey takes tests me. I will not fail my legacy.

Necromancer
06-11-09, 8:18 am
The blokes I work with, they've got this little platform set up in the office. Kinda like a lazy susan. They put shit up on it every day and I do mean shit. And they graze away all day too, chomping guiltily on handfuls of chips, biscuits ... cake .... yeah, like I said, shit. They seem to know when I've dropped my carbs. Everybody here seems fascinated with my plastic containers of tuna and rice even after all these years, and they make a huge effort to get me to eat something off this thing. They think they're having a go at me, but the joke's on them. Do they think I'm enticed as they wave their crap at me? Sure I'll smile along with their joke. But I guess I'm blessed. I love the discipline of dieting. I feel compelled to only put in my mouth what gets me to where I'm going. And if there was any doubt I just look at who's waving it at me. Not a set of abs among them. They think I'm looking at what they're holding out to me. I'm actually looking at their double chins. Their soggy chests. Thinking about how breathless they are simply chasing after their kids. Fuck all of that. I dip into the bowl of resolve and chew the fucker down. I walk a different path.

Necromancer
09-24-09, 3:56 am
Haven't had much to say of late, I know ... but my old man always taught me if you got nothing worthwhile to say, keep your trap shut.
But I got a point to make today, so away we go.
Trained with a young bloke yesterday. I haven't shared a workout with anyone in a good couple of years now, but this bloke I've seen him train, and he doesn't beat around the bush, doesn't get distracted, doesn't talk shit. He's at the top of his chosen game and he's motivated as all fuck. Never bugs me during my workout but knows he can talk nutrition or training when I've done my thing.
We trained arms. I let him lead the way; I pointed out a few minor technique things. We had our ipods in for the most part and went on sign language. Smashed it so bad I could barely comb my hair a couple of hours later.
Now here's the drill. I could of given him a workout to go through, but I thought I'd let him come up with something. And you know what? I've been training so long now I'd forgotten how brutal giant sets could be. Point is, you can learn something from anyone. Enthusiasm he gave me a fresh lesson there too. My grandmother always told me you learn something new every day. She told me that the last time I saw her, and she was pushing 94.
So there you go. Never presume you can't learn a lesson, even when you're in the process of giving one. Keep your eyes and mind open and you'll always get taught. Knowledge is power.
Onwards and upwards.

Necromancer
10-04-09, 12:27 am
Sometimes you don't notice when you should be flexing your mental muscle. You expect to be using your head mid-set, planning workouts, scheduling meals, designing diets. Other times you've gotta switch on while you're on the hop. I like to train in the quieter lull between the 5am worker crowd and the 9am rush when parents have dropped their kids off to school. Shit, I'd be happy as a pig in mud to train in a deserted gym for good. It's not that I'm antisocial. Far from it. It's just my time, and I don't want to lose my rhythm or focus.
In the last month or so, there's been a new crew coming through at the same time as me. Young blokes. Early 20s, full of testosterone, on edge, glaring everywhere. I should recognise it, I guess. Hell, I was there once. The other day I felt a bit surrounded, I must say, as much as I block out everything I can. I know when I'm getting eyeballed. I nod pleasantly when we cross paths, though it mostly brings a glare. Whatever. I'm sure when I was younger I was intimidated by older blokes with more density and strength than I could ever hope to have at that age. Point is, I was starting to get the shits. ``Why don't they chill they fuck out?'' I caught myself thinking. ``I'm nice enough to them. Christ, when I was younger most of the big blokes glared me down.''
But I realised with that, that it wasn't their attitude that needed improving; it was mine. They're just young blokes being young blokes. Me, I've travelled the road. I know better. Instead of being upset at a lack of respect I'm never going to get, I have to respect myself. People don't realise it at the time, but the true disciplines of the iron game are there to learn a shitload more than how to lift weights. These young blokes will get stronger. Their bodies will grow, their confidence will grow ... and their minds will grow. Just like mine did. And still does.
Pride's just another weight that needs lifting. And you train that discipline every day, wherever you're at on the journey.

Necromancer
10-05-09, 3:16 am
This morning I found myself face first over a gymnasium toilet bowl, staring at some purply-red chunder ... and giggling like a mad prick. Why the fuck do I find myself laughing at my chunder in such a predicament? I'll get to that in a moment, brothers. How did I get there? Well I decided to give my creaking joints a break, so I'm into a few supersets and giants sets at the moment. All of which is a good idea in theory problem is, I haven't eased up on the weight too much. And on this morning's leg session, something had to give, and it gave somewhere around the back of my throat.
Good thing they keep the dunnies clean where I train is all I can say. I was in the process of spewing that I realised my Nitro and Stack where percolating somewhere in my gut. In my panic to halt the flow and loss of nutrients I started making a noise like a dodgy blender going nuclear. So fucking funny I stopped in mid chunder and started laughing. True story. So is there something wrong with me? What sane person trains till they spew, then laughs about it in the act? I say there's nothing wrong with me. If you don't fall down you ain't trying, the old saying goes. Last night after my shift I drove past about three cars on the way home. Each had people hanging out the doors throwing up after a big night out. So that's acceptable behaviour in the general community and mine is messed up? At least I can say I spew in the pursuit of self-improvement. My choice; a big night out ... or get just plain big. No contest.

Necromancer
10-15-09, 3:03 am
Yes, actually I do need to train this much, and yes, I do need to train so hard. I'm walking funny because my legs hurt like motherfuckers. No, I obviously don't have watermelons under my arms. But they do have to get past my lats. Yes, I do get sick of tuna and brown rice. The smell of tinned tuna makes me want to gag. I hold my breath until I have disguised it with something else. Why then do I eat it? It gets me where I'm going. If you were driving your car to a point 100 miles away you wouldn't piss in the tank, would you? I must like eggs? Again, after 25 years, I'm a bit sick of them, but there you go. You didn't ask the fat man in front of me at the checkout about his jumbo bags of chips. Why ask me about my eggs? What am I getting out of the fridge at work? A protein shake. I do believe you asked me this same question last week. And the week before. What's in it? Protein. Would it help you get in shape? If you train your arse off, yes. Why the low-brow cap? Yes, I know there's no sun in the gym. It just helps me block things out. Can I write you out a program? It's probably best to talk to the gym instructors. They have the certificates, and I don't want to step on their toes. Can I give you a spot? Absolutely. Am I a `bit obsessed'? No. I'm dedicated. Obsession is a term invented by people with no dedication to make themselves feel better. Won't I ever be satisfied? It's not about satisfaction, it's about the journey. Now ... if I've politely answered all the questions I'd like to get back to quietly doing my own thing.

Necromancer
10-18-09, 6:21 am
Being your best is about doing the right thing because you want to do it ... not because you have to do it.
This is not my choice. This is my calling. It's time to get busy.

Necromancer
11-19-09, 2:40 am
Power is impressive. But controlled power? Now you're talking my shit. I remember as a young bloke I saw a big fella stroll into the gym. Impressive physique. Picked up the biggest weights there. All of this I would of forgotten but for the way he controlled his movement. Crisp. Measured. You know he was getting the job done. He could have lifted more but he didn't have to. He didn't give a rat's arse what anybody else thought. He was his own master. I learnt a lot from that bloke in 30 minutes flat.
Spoke to a man today who's a legend in his game. Dead-set hard nut; one of the toughest ever to play his sport. A fearsome competitor. In person, off the field? Polite and respectful. And that's why he's held in such high regard. He knew when to turn it on and when to turn it off. With control his power won respect. Without it he would have been just one more loose cannon.
Feeling the pure, unadulterated power in the lift ... it's a rush you can't beat. But when it's spot-on, with perfect form ... that's when you walk away really satisfied. When you're in charge of the steel. When the bar travels in a perfect arc. Locked in at the top. Paused at the bottom. Hitting exactly the muscle fibres you want to. Controlled aggression turning all our negatives into one monstrous positive. All done with confidence in the knowledge you control what's going on. A mirror to your life. Your pursuit of this lifestyle. Everything in its place.

Necromancer
11-20-09, 2:29 am
Don't be fooled. The masses, as much as they try to be like each other, crave the strength to be themselves; to walk a path of honour that sets them apart. Walking a mall I espaired as I watched the world go by. In this cheap have-now environment I noted the young striving to be different but ending up just one more fucking tired cliche; just a component of the dreary mass. I despaired at their plight as I watched them stomp by, strut by, all with their ``look'', all just a cut-and-paste attempt for individualism. Flimsy attempts built on flimsy values of an MTV world. Defeat in their eyes, like somehow they knew they were losing a battle they barely knew they were in. And I despaired at the lack of respect for their bodies. To me it's a mirror to their respect for their very essence. Stick frames or cow-bellied, soggy-chested, pea-hearted motherfuckers, lost in an MP3-playing, twittering, facebooking myspace world.
I refuse to be part of the masses - and that desire is not born from wanting to be different. It is a desire born from wanting to be me. I am many things different in this life, but my foundations were forged in steel. Year upon year upon fucking year. Rep upon rep. Kilo upon kilo of brown rice. Til my hands callused. Til my feet fractured. Til I vomited, fainted. Until my skin split into stretch marks that scar my body. I am my own man. I will not be swayed. I will go down swinging like a windmill. I build myself on this bedrock I have hewn.
Don't be fooled. In spite of the world that passed me by that evening, the path we walk holds an eternal honour. I could see it the eyes of the youngsters; the way they looked at me sideways, moved to give me room, looking down self-consciously as they did. Optimistically I could see a flicker of something in their eyes as I treated them with the respect they perhaps have never been taught how to give to others - not the least themselves - in this modern world. Did I see hope in the haze of zombie eyes? Is there a chance my breed is not dying after all?
It's better to die on your feet than to live on your knees.

Necromancer
11-22-09, 2:39 am
Age? Fuck age. I feel sorry for those who associate age with degeneration: degeneration of the mind, of the senses, of the body. To me it makes no sense to accumulate all this knowledge, to find peace within myself, build my physique, only to let society's preconditioned notion trip me up just when I should be hitting full stride. I refuse point-blank to associate getting older with losing my condition. The opposite: I expect age to bring me even more density. More strength. More fitness. The day I wake up not expecting to improve is the day I keel over and die. Perhaps this does not conform to the norm. Fuck the norm. I've never adhered to it. I march to my own beat. That's why I begin this week expecting to go harder than ever. I begin this week knowing I will learn in every way. I begin this week taking nothing for granted and leaving nothing in the tank, just the same as I did years ago. Retirement is not in my vocabulary. I'll take life membership of my life; not cut it off two-thirds through and do what society expects me to do. In my world age is not a decrepit old man with no real meaning in life driving a caravan around and waiting to die. Age in my world is a mighty oak tree. Adding ring upon ring, growing eternally, reaching for the sky. Don't let a day go by. It's not a practice run. Every day I use this week is a day I'll never get back. I follow my journey like a man possessed.

Necromancer
11-27-09, 2:23 am
Don't judge this book by its cover. To keep on top of this game requires a kind of mental power of the same force that is required to drive a bowed Olympic barbell to the sky. The stereotype, the one that annoys the shit out of me, is the meathead with no brains. I beg to differ. Getting really big, not just water-puffy big but vein-poppingly big, is not the domain of people with low IQs. It actually takes a fair bit of grey power to build up muscle power. Just spend a little time in this Animal house of ours to see the articulate thoughts that prevail. I have found over many years that those who scornfully point and stare in gyms at the stupid ``meatheads'' are, in fact, the ones who have been doing the same workout for the past 12 months and not made on single lick of difference. I'm sorry, but there seems to be a large amount of mindless stupidity in that. And then to call out someone who is achieving what they so wish to achieve and branding them? Could there be an element of jealousy there? So be it. That is their issue to deal with, not mine. My physique is a reflection of my self. Let it be only the bastion of the wise ones to see the meticulous thought and planning that has gone into it, the reading, the knowledge, the thought, the discipline. Only the brothers in iron understand how much you have to be on your game just to maintain it, let alone force growth. leanness. But that is fine with me. I seek to understand myself, not others. The knowledge, the answers, lie within this book. I read on with a thirst to know more.

Necromancer
12-06-09, 12:16 am
There's a million joys to be had in the gym. Sometimes you don't even know it's coming. But when it does you gotta latch on and learn. The other day I thought there was no way I'd have a decent workout. Everyone wanted a piece of me before I left for the gym, and I knew it was going to be the same when I got back home. The traffic was shit. I got there with 25 minutes to train arms. Such was angst I'd built up that I had an indignant head of steam as I walked in. But guess what? It's Sunday arvo and my arms are still hurting like a bitch. I trained on Friday morning. I refused to let the bastards get me down. I changed the meaning of what was in front of me from ``I haven't got enough time to do this properly'' to ``this is 25 minutes of complete and utter torture.'' And it was. Can barely comb my hair. Giant sets will do that to you. Looking back, some of my best workouts have been laid down in a defined time frame. There's gotta be a lesson there. Maybe even two. 1. Concentrate. 2. Don't ever let your time go to waste. Plain and simple.

J-DOG
12-06-09, 9:15 pm
Necro,

You tell the truth brutha and more power to you for it, so keep up the great work. Your posts are some of the best reads and motivational kicks in the ass that i look forward to whatever you serve up next.

Stay strong, stay focused and never quit!


Peace

JD

Necromancer
12-09-09, 1:31 am
Thanks JD. It's a privilege to share thoughts with men of honour like yourself. Take good care ... and train the house down.

Necromancer
12-09-09, 2:52 am
Of all the lessons I've learned in this pursuit, the hardest one of all to get a handle on has only fallen into place for me in the past couple of years: when to ease back. You see, flat-out intensity was never a problem. Going a year without missing a workout? No problem. Fractured my feet under the leg press? See you again next week, I'd say. The old school trainers would look at me and smile. In my conceited mind they were acknowledging my drive, my determination. In hindsight I know they were having a quiet laugh at the young dickhead hobbling around the dumbbell rack. I have taken four straight days off training this week. Once upon a time, by day two, I'd be worried I was shrinking, that I was losing my strength. I could never take that time off. Now I know how much I could have improved. But taking a time-out for me takes far more bravery than it did to get under that leg press. And guess what? I'm not shrinking. My muscles are fuelling up. My immune system's getting back off the canvas. And when I get back to it I'm gunna be stronger than I was last week.
Now I hear what my body's trying to tell me. I take in the advice of those wiser than I. Now I know easing up isn't waving the white flag - it's forging ahead. It's funny. In a pursuit that can be so visual, listening to your body can be so crucial.

Necromancer
12-11-09, 3:15 am
I sit reflecting on my journey. Looking back I can see the times when I have really grown of age have not come when everything was perfect; in fact, the the times I have been in my comfort zone I have not achieved the things I am proudest of. It's been the times of stress. The times of grief, duress, of adaptation have been the times that have marked me as a man. The hell of schoolyard bullying. The death of a best mate. The loss of body parts. The pressure of new work situations. Adapting to a powerful relationship. These have all shaped me far more than a week, month or even year when I went through the same routine without a hitch. The hard times all come into play when I dig deep in my training, my diet ... my whole life. It seems odd that sometimes we search out the comfort zone, when being in the comfort zone brings us not much more than some smug satisfaction. I'm not saying look for the shit to come down all the time. Far from it. But now I'm aware when the going gets tough that there is a reason for it. It's good to get out of the comfort zone. That's where the growth is. In anything. When something goes down take the bull by the horns, and do it head-on.
Ride the hurt, ride the pain, the doubt, the angst. Load it all on an Olympic bar until the fucker bends to the floor.
Then drive it to the sky.

Necromancer
12-17-09, 2:08 am
People see themselves as all kinds of things when they train. Superheroes, animals, machines; you name it. Me, I used to see a bull in my mind's eye when I was getting under it. When I was a scrawny little kid I came across a bull in a field one day. It was fucking huge, and it just stood there, looking at me as though I was a piece of shit on a stick, munching on grass, taking a crap. I couldn't believe anything that big had a pulse. It looked like it could run through a dozen brick walls ... but it didn't need to prove a thing. It was just doing what it was doing best: standing around, eating, being big as a house. Just minding it's own business. It could have killed the eight-year-old runt looking at it with awe and fear we both knew it it just didn't see the point. My kind of shit, brothers. In the gym I saw that bull whenever I was struggling. I saw it when I was force feeding myself. I saw its quiet assurance when people told me I was wasting my time, I had the wrong genetics, my metabolism was too fast.
These days? I've been bushwalking through Daintree national forest a couple of times in recent years. Forget the bull. The trees up there are utterly bullshit big. So wide you can't see around them. So tall you can't see where they end. So impressive you find yourself reaching out, tapping the trunk, just to make sure they're real. Like the bull, there's nothing to prove. They're just fucking big cause that's what they are. Period. In the gym I see their monstrous trunks in my mind's eye, knotted gnarls of mood intertwining with veins and flesh. I hear the groaning and creaking of mighty limbs as I feel my muscles growing. I feel the sap flowing through me as I grow, cut up, grow again ... season by season. Year by year. I weather the storms that add tree rings to my psyche and physique, taking the good with the bad, knowing both make me what I am. Make me stronger. No longer fuelled by hate, self-doubt and loathing, I train and I grow.
It's just what I am.

Necromancer
12-22-09, 2:17 am
I began my new year's resolution today. What's that? I'm getting in a little early? It's not new year's eve yet?
To my way of thinking, it's been exactly a year since December 22, 2008. So it's time to revise and go ahead. Then tomorrow night I'll sit down and revise the end of the year beginning December 23, 2008. Then the next day. And the next. A new resolution every day? No. But perhaps I'll refine my vision under the knowledge of another day. Perhaps the same goal will take a new approach. Maybe I'll just reinforce my plans to myself. But the next year starts today and I start with it.
In some ways I can understand the way the masses wait for the new year to build up their enthusiasm. I've seen it in the gym every January for more than two decades. Full of enthusiasm and determination. Flushed with resolve. If only it lasted more than a few weeks. What I can never wrap my head around is why a person would wait to do something that needs doing. ``It's November in January I'll get that lift I've never got. In January I'll get ripped. In January I'll start bulking.''
Yeah? And by January they've wasted a couple of months spinning their wheels. This life isn't a practise run. Two months wasted is two months you'll never get back. Even a week wasted is a crime to my way of thinking. And what happens in the meantime? If you cut the shit, the truth is if you're not forging ahead, you're probably not even treading water. You're probably going backwards. There's never a good time to do things. Now is the time.
I haven't got a day to waste waiting for the one to with the right date to show up. It's January 1 every day.

J-DOG
12-22-09, 4:53 pm
Amen to that brother the journey starts NOW!

Godspeed on your journey to bigger and better things!


JD

Necromancer
12-27-09, 5:09 am
I can't begin to imagine what we'll all achieve in the next 12 months to December 27, 2010, mate. Our best year yet for sure. And just think: a day later, our best year yet again. What a concept. Fuck waiting 12 months to have your best year, J-Dog. Have it every single day ... train hard brother.

Necromancer
12-28-09, 2:21 am
When I feel adversity, I turn it into a test. Today was a test I should have seen it coming, being a public holiday. The gym didn't open til 8, and as I pulled in not long after I saw with dismay the carpark was packed with people on holiday. The fact it was raining drove even more indoors to train. Already I was feeling a test before I even parked: the gym would be crowded; I couldn't train with rhythm; I couldn't train as I wanted. I pushed the thoughts away. I was feeling good, and I'd eaten and slept well. Nothing would stand in the way of my chest workout. Inside it was as packed as I feared. Unfamiliar faces in holiday mode, talking, laughing, fart-arsing around. Fair enough, if that floats your boat. I pushed my cap right down and plugged in the pod to drown it all out. It was just a strength of my will, of my focus. People daydreaming on equipment. Blokes too busy perving instead of training. I moved politely but with intent, determined to pass my test. People staring at me, how I train. Looking threatened, jealous, watching to learn, peering at my drink bottle, wondering what it is I'm having. Comparing what they're lifting to me. I shut it all out. I would not be denied. In days past it would have got to me. My workout would have sucked. But I zoned in, found my rhythm in spite of it. I do not have a workout to waste. Don't get me wrong; I don't mind a holiday. But if I'm on holiday I'm nowhere near a gym, milling around, getting in the way ... wasting my time. I'm glad I'm feeling tightness in my pecs this evening and not regret that I'd let circumstance ruin a workout.
All within my hands.

Necromancer
01-04-10, 2:53 am
I do a good job in the gym, at my diet, and I'd expect my results to be good, right? Wrong. A good job only ever begets an average result. So what's the answer? I want excellent results. Surely if I want an excellent outcome I have to put in excellent workouts, pay excellent attention to diet and supplementation? Wrong again. In my experience, excellent work only brings good results. That's just the cold, hard truth as far as I'm concerned: the iron game is so tough. I love the way it separates the wheat from the chaff. Gyms are filled with those who become disillusioned when their excellent work is only rewarded with good results. This pursuit is such that it is simple to fall into the trap of just going through the motions. Just being excellent; or worse yet, merely doing a good job. Fuck going through the motions. Screw being just good or even excellent. It is only when your training and diet is truly outstanding, beyond committed, when you push yourself further than the other 99 per centers are prepared to go can you even begin to look for excellent results.
I walk this path to test myself.

Necromancer
01-07-10, 6:07 am
I say when you're reacting to something, you're never going to do your best. You're only on top of your game when you're in a state of anticipation. When you're in control. Like when you're trying to grow. You're piling in the calories, training your arse off. But don't you lose a shitload of momentum when you realise you're just smoothing over and nothing else? Or when you're cutting, and you find yourself going catabolic. Truth of the matter is, you probably know what's happening before you get to that state. By then you're reacting to what's happened. And that's disempowering. How much better do you feel when you listen to your body, and catch it before you hit a plateau? That's anticipation. Or when you realise you're not losing any more fat, just wasting muscle, and you change things around to stoke up the furnace. Anticipation puts you in the driver's seat. Convincing your physique to follow your will requires such a high degree of thought and planning, but you have to constantly stay on your game. Plans sometimes have to change if you're going to anticipate the road ahead. I refuse to be a passenger on this journey. This is my path; this is my mind and my body, and I'll be fucked if I sit my arse anywhere other than firmly in the driver's seat. Faith is a beautiful thing. Blind faith is exactly that.

Necromancer
01-11-10, 6:14 am
My gym isn't just a wall of steel-filled concrete. It's an extension of me. Not just an arm or a leg, but a place that defines me and what I've become. I can close my eyes and see every last fucking detail right now. See, I'm a creature of habit and loyalty. I find the right place and stick with it. In 24 or so years I've training I've only trained regularly in three gyms, and the moves have only come out of necessity. Where I'm at now I've been at since '01. It's the most hardcore I've been at. It has its smattering of pretty machines for the pretty boys and girls. But it's also got old, bowed Olympic barbells stained by years and years of sweat and toil. I know each and every one like the fingers on my hand. Same too for the dumbbells. The big fuckers that sit mostly unused under the shiny new ones. The ones with flaking paint, rusting grips. They carry history; legacy. Hands that have pushed these have gone all the way to the Olympia stage far away. I can smell the dried sweat wafting into the back office where the long-time owner confided tips gleaned from the early days of bodybuilding; the old signed pic of Tom Platz watching the comings and goings from its crooked mantle. The walls drip with hour upon hour of tortured effort. I know the iron work that has gone in within these walls. Maybe it takes one to know one but I can dial right into that vibe anytime I need to shut out the bullshit. People come and go around here. The legacy is a permanent member.

Necromancer
01-17-10, 1:49 am
It was initially hard to change my association of pain. But it was imperative to my progress that I do exactly that. I grew up as the skinniest kid in class, so I had it hammered into me all my childhood that pain equalled bullying. That pain equalled humiliation, taunts, bloodied noses and black eyes. By the time I saw the light and got my arse into a gym I had years of associating pain with ... well, exactly that. Pain. When I first started training I found solace in the weights, in the way my body responded. The feeling of being pumped and in command of your own journey. I did train hard in my younger years. But it took a long time to really embrace pain to such a high extent on a daily basis. Now I know pain equals success. The pain I endure defines me. It sets me apart. All the old cliches spring to mind, but they are only words when mastery of pain is such an arduous discipline. And every day it tries to control my workouts; when I'm tired, or not concentrating, it is the pain trying to shut me down before I'm in the red zone. But I refuse to concede to my body's incessant pestering for relief. When I'm in the pain zone I see the lactic acid as a churlish child that needs a good dose of discipline. I shove it aside with singleminded intent and embrace the hurt. My physique is under my command. See, I've changed my association. I no longer feel pain under the steel. I feel a calling to arms that I cannot refuse. I feel growth. Like a moth to the flame, I seek it out instead of run away.
After all, I don't want a lighter load. I want broader shoulders.

Necromancer
01-19-10, 3:39 am
What you focus on becomes your reality. I reiterate that thought to myself this week as I up calories and throw in a Stak/M-Stak double whammy as I hit a strength and power phase. Too often I've hit a certain weight and started to smooth over a bit much. Why? In all truth, probably because that's what happened the first time around. So next time when I hit that marker weight, I wasn't focused on good, lean gains at all: I was focused on smoothing over too much, because that's what happened before. Just like the man who crashes his car into the only pole in 100 miles - because he was focused on not hitting the pole instead of sliding into open road. Lo and behold, the time I was too busy to be stressing about smoothing over at that weight, I went soaring past it to the tune of four more kilos before I realised I was "supposed'' to smooth a few weeks before. Interesting. The steel pursuit sometimes be all about bucking the norm; ignoring the people who tell you what normal is "supposed'' to be. Just look at some of Animal's athletes. They weren't interested in what's supposed to be. They're interested in creating their own reality. Like them, I choose my mindset. So I choose to grow like an escaped lab experiment, because I believe anything is possible. To stop believing is to stop living.

Necromancer
01-25-10, 2:41 am
To me the real challenge in this game is not the physicality of actually getting under the bar and moving it. It's the ability to overcome my own limiting expectations. A lot of people set their life within the perimeters of expectation, but to me expectations limit ability. What you think you will achieve and what you want to achieve are often vastly different. You may set the bar higher in your lifts or bodyweight or body fat aims, but somewhere in the back of you mind those goals are held in check by the very expectation that you'll struggle to get to that goal. It's the old 'shoot high and just be happy of you land somewhere below it' routine. Fuck that. Too many times in the past I've 'surprised' myself by blasting through a plateau. Thing is, it's always surprising because, at the time, I'd forgotten either my goal or my expectations of the lift or workout. I was just in the zone with no limits. And every time I'd get through that plateau I'd set a new goal set with the expectation I would struggle, even though I'd just proven to myself that forgetting all expectations got me to a new level in the first place. So today I remind myself to rise above my own limiting beliefs and focus only on my vision. I am my own creator.

Necromancer
01-28-10, 3:34 am
I've got a long way to go on this journey. The dark streak within me I have tamed, but sometimes I can feel it lurking just beneath the surface like some kind of python, and I catch myself wondering if I ever will tame it. Maybe I have merely confined it to a cage, snapping and writhing, waiting for a chance to unleash itself. Today that dark snake of ill-feeling was snapping and biting at its iron bars, and it tested me. You cop jealousy in the gym just the same as you do in the big wide world beyond its doors. The gym, I've found, holds a mirror up to what's happening outside. Today it's the washed-up middle-aged man who's hit the middle-aged spread. Yeah, I've seen him before. He glowers at me from under his cap, like it's my fault he's no longer committed to diet. He glares at me like it's my fault his training isn't working. Maybe if he didn't try and pump his arms straight up to impress people and focused on the basics he might get somewhere. Today he tries to get in my space and I feel ugly rage bubbling. I chain that demon down. Then he walks past and bumps into me. On purpose. My outrage is dizzying. So I think of my Animal brothers. I think of the iron-willed minority I represent. I think of the responsibility I have to the younger blokes in the gym. I swat that anger away like a fly. I will not fail any test in this world at the hands of some ageing wannabe. Just as repetitions with weights build my physique, repetitions of these situations build my mind. I walk away with a slight smile, knowing the bars around that demon within have just become a little thicker; a little stronger. It's all about the growth.

Necromancer
01-31-10, 5:02 am
Normal? I don't reckon there's any such thing. The only normal thing for me is the pursuit of my journey. I say there's no normal thing for anyone but their own pursuit, unhampered by other people's classifications and expectations. I'm reminded of the concept of normality today in my back yard. I've got the barbeque fired up - nothing unusual about that where I come from. But a neighbour peering from his sliding door up higher on the hill is looking at me like I've lost the plot. Thing is, there's a fair storm on. A bit of thunder and lightning. And the rain is smashing down. I'm under an umbrella, along with a bit of smoke and a pair of tongs. See, I've ripped the kitchen out as part of renovations and I'm down a stovetop for a couple of days. But I need to grill some red meat and chicken breasts. Need to? Yes. I fucking need to. I'm on a Stack/M-Stack combo, it's going great guns, and I'll be fucked if I'm dropping the ball when it comes to diet. So I get the job done. A little water never hurt anyone, and I dodged the lightning strikes. Tomorrow when I'm in the power rack I'll be glad I found a way. Normal? Fuck that. I'd rather be out in the rain.

Necromancer
02-08-10, 6:50 am
It's funny. I've tamed a myriad of negative emotions through my training: unbridled rage, grief, self-doubt ... you name it. It's all been channelled as energy through the palms of my hands and into the steel. Hell, it's a long journey, and those dark emotions still bubble and boil sometimes just beneath the surface. I'm the first to admit I'm a work in progress. Yet it isn't all the raw, charged emotions that I find the hardest to master. Maybe I've had a lot of practice, but rage? I can turn that motherfucker into a workout in the blink of an eye - so much so I almost search for anger between sets sometimes. No, the shit I find hard isn't the dark stuff. It's simple humility that can be the hardest pill to swallow. Funny how those hardest pills to swallow are the ones that are the best for you. Like when the young, clueless resident gym personal trainer wanders up to tell you how you should be doing something. I want to tell him to piss off, that I was training five days a week before he was born. But that would only make me weak, and I hate to fail any of life's tests, no matter how small they seem. So I listen politely and tell him I'll bear his advice in mind, though I'm pretty happy with the way I train. Humility. Like when I'm in a pub and, through no fault of my own, I've got some angry little man bounding around me, waving his fists at me, as rent-a-crowd gathers for the massacre. And I walk away. That can be harder than a back-breaking set of squats. I've worked so hard to build my strength and physique, yet the very fact that I have done so means in most cases I cannot use it in everyday situations. I have set myself apart in my journey, which makes self control amid humility one of my purest tests of strength.

Necromancer
02-23-10, 4:55 am
Me, I love winter training. Cold mornings scare off the peahearts in the gym, and covered up I can avoid the judgement and stares of others while I train. But winter it ain't, and you just do what ya gotta do, right? An early lesson for me was to change the meanings of the things I don't like. That goes for shit like today's leg workout. Cold winter morning? Not likely. As I catch my breath by a window next to the squat rack, I spot one of those electronic billboards that display the time and temperature in the distance ... 8am and 33 fucking degrees. That's 91.4 Fahrenheit degrees of Aussie summer. In the past of been guilty of easing back in the heat. 'This heat saps my strength,' was the bullshit track that played in the back of my mind. Not that it would stop my workout; but it maybe held me back that one percent. And it's only the one-percenters that get anywhere in this unyielding world. Thing is, I can't control the weather. But I sure as fuck can control my response to the weather. So I took that broken-down track that played in the back of my mind and dropped a 150lb dumbbell on it. Squashed it like a bug. I changed the meaning. Does hot weather sap my strength? Hell no. My creaky joints work better in heat. I sweat like a motherfucker and bake myself stupid under a squat rack. Bring that shit on.
Tomorrow's forecast? Another hot one. My forecast? A day that won't be wasted.
So I just do what I gotta do.
Not to be better than the next bloke. Not for the sake of being different.
But to justify my existence.

Necromancer
02-28-10, 5:49 am
Sometimes the people who mean well can throw you as bad as the ignorant and jealous people in the gym. Sure, you've got people scowling at you, giving you odd looks at your hardcore training regime or any of that kind of shit. But there's other stuff you gotta get a handle on. See, my gym was owned by the same bloke for many years. He sold up last year, went away on a trip, and he's lobbed back in the gym only recently to train. I've picked his brains over the years - he's a real old school trainer - and let's say he's pretty firm on his opinions. The other day I'm training and, as focused as I am, I can feel his eyes on me; a disapproving look on his face at something I'm doing. It's almost as distracting as someone trying to stare you down. I know he has the best intentions; but I had to zone his energy out and focus on the job at hand. Sure, he knows his shit; but when push comes to shove, you gotta back yourself. I reckon you always gotta be open to knowledge, advice. Never stop reading and observing. Take all that knowledge in, but this game is such an individual pursuit and everyone has such individual responses to training and diet. Take good advice for what it is, but at the end of the day you know what's best for you and nobody else. You gotta do what you feel to be right and learn your own way. You are, after all, your own creator.

Necromancer
03-04-10, 2:49 am
Today I pull myself up as I walk to the squat rack, my head filled with facts, figures, and the training routine ahead. Attention to detail is a good thing, but sometimes with all the training regime, diet and supplementation it gets a bit can’t-see-the-forest-for-the trees. I know all that shit and what I’ve gotta do. I don’t need to complicate it when it’s second nature. So instead I pause and focus on my outcome. Remind your brain of your outcome and everything else falls into place. When push comes to shove, for all the knowledge involved, this is not rocket science. I resolved today that every time I swing into a carpark at the gym, I will focus on the outcome; why it is I am here. What was my outcome today?
Get big.
Plain and simple. So I let the facts and figures slip to the back of my head as my mind focused on exactly that. And by the way, my legs hurt like a bastard right now.

Necromancer
03-10-10, 2:36 am
Just because something’s working doesn’t mean I should keep doing it. The onus is on me to keep experimenting, pushing my will and my physique. I’ve said before six meals a day is a hard grind. But on a cycle of Stak and M-Stak, I’m cramming in meal No.7. Six meals a day has always worked well for me. But I want to do better. I need to know when I take my last breath at the end of this long journey I pushed everything to the limit to see what I was capable of. If it doesn’t work for me, I’m not concerned. Every mistake discarded is another step forward. All the great achievers in this world have always realised that no matter what level they’re at, there’s still another level to take it to. Look at Dorian Yates. He became as big as humanly possible. He disappeared, then turned up a year later ... as big as inhumanely possible. Now that’s my kind of shit. He knew that there was something more to strive for and he was willing to change in order to get there. I know I gotta take satisfaction at achievements along the journey, but dissatisfaction is the whip that cracks, that keeps me focused, experimenting.
Now ... where’s my knife and fork ...

Necromancer
03-14-10, 12:06 am
Some weeks are better than others. That’s just the way it is. And it’s the shit weeks that sort the committed from the pretenders. I stand at my wife’s carefully organised pantry at the start of a week, taking in the bags of rice, tins of tuna, crates of eggs ... you know the drill. I don’t mind the hard work; but today my stomach feels uncomfortably full just looking at the pile of monotonous food sitting there waiting to be chomped up mouthful by endless mouthful. I’m still sore from not only the week before, but from piggy-backing my cousin up and down two flights of stairs at home on the weekend (paraplegic, but no excuses for not having an evening beer on the top deck). It’s all about focus, I remind myself as I start cooking up a couple of day’s food. I push the notion of high bland-name calories out of my head; I swat the persistent aches from my mind as if my body is a spoilt little brat clamouring for my undivided attention. I focus instead on the wicked pumps I was getting last week. I focus on the balls-to-wall workouts I expect from myself this week. I turn the aches into the deep creaks of something real fucken big, growing, expanding with such size it cannot be denied. I turn my stomach into an empty petrol tank in a top fueler sitting at the top of a quarter mile like a gun waiting to be loaded.
Some weeks are better than others. The trick is, you gotta make ’em better.

Necromancer
03-18-10, 7:31 am
The big lifts, the mind-blowing pumps, the rapid gains ... fuck, they’re fun; the icing on the cake. But they’re not where the real gains are made. I remind myself of this fact as I click open yet another plastic container of brown rice, chicken and egg white. It’s the grind that builds a physique. The mouthful after mouthful. The rep after rep. The discipline of years on end that build the density, the raw power that will always be there on command. Anyone can jump on a bandwagon. I choose to build one of my own from the ground up. So I sit here with aching quads and delts, not game to run my fingers through my hair lest my pummelled biceps go into another spasm, chewing. Yeah, it’s been a tough week on the big calories. But even though the desired results are coming, they’re trying to trip me up. 'Take it easy for a day or two,' my body says. 'It’s all coming together.' Bullshit, I say. I’d rather get back to the grind than ease up. I know at the end of my journey it will be the grind that defines me.
Cause what you reap
Is what you sow

Necromancer
03-23-10, 3:34 am
You never know all the answers. There’s always something to be learned in every workout if you train with an open mind. Today I spied one of the old-school lifters while I was doing squats. Reckon I’m pretty confident with my favourite lift, but I dropped my ego anyway and asked old mate to check my form. ‘‘Need a spot?’’ he asked. ‘‘Nah mate,’’ says I, ‘‘Just check my form. I don’t want any old habits creeping in.’’ So I crank out my reps and rack it, pretty pleased with the lift.
‘‘Perfect form,’’ he says, but then: ‘‘Mate, when you’re under this kind of weight you induce a fight-or-flight response. Your adrenaline is going so hard in response, that you pushed out that first rep too quick, and that meant you used up energy you could have used on the last one or two reps. Just put you hands on the bar and become acquainted with it; calm yourself first. Because it’s not your strength that will let you down ... but your back one day might.’’
And here was I thinking I was hot shit. Have to say apart from great advice, I had a quiet smile at my own expense, and vowed to keep asking the appropriate questions at the appropriate time all the way through this journey.

Necromancer
03-25-10, 3:47 am
T-minus four weeks. I’m hitting the road with my wife for some mind-opening but dangerous parts of the world and I’ve set the target of firstly looking like I need to be seriously left alone, and secondly being as efficiently fit and strong as I can so I can take care of any shit that arises. I’ve learnt over time that setting goals and deadlines is crucial to my journey. In the iron game, where body response is so individual and progress so gradual, you can lose six months, even a year, if you’re not crystal clear on your outcome and the time frame you’ve set to achieve it in. The crazier the goal, the more fun it can be, and even if I’ve fallen short in the past, just aiming high has kept my momentum. Ask me any time of year and I’ll be able to tell you what I’m doing: bulk, cuts, power ... and I’ll use any occasion as a marker, a deadline to achieve that goal. I started deadlines when I was 18 ... I was on a bulking mission back then and going real good. In the middle of it all I managed to mow some of my toes off with a Victa lawnmower. But I was psyched. Four weeks later I was under a squat rack with 50 stitches and a rebuilt foot. Shit happens, I guess; point is it taught me the satisfaction of not letting anything get in the way of a deadline.
One of my favourite parts of this site, after all, is the line sitting in the bottom right-hand corner of this page.

Necromancer
04-07-10, 4:22 am
Fearless? Bullshit. Everybody has fears. The test of your true strength is not to deny them, but to tackle them head-on. I’m reminded of the concept as I ponder my next move in my journey. You see, watching all the heavy-duty action in The Cage has awakened something deep within. Watching Sam Byrd smashing it up under the squat bar has got me excited about the metal in a way I haven’t been for a long time. Perhaps it’s time for my journey to take the powerlifting competition route. My bench press is crap – I’ve always gone for dumbells to protect my shoulders. My deadlift could be good; but I live for squats. I think I could really make my mark there. I’ve always wanted to see exactly how far my strength would take me in a single lift, but I’ve been focused on heavy-duty bodybuilding training for so long I simply haven’t gotten around to it. And to be truthful, there is nagging fear and doubt. I’ve been told a thousand times by others my body will break before my strength gives in, and the doubts annoy me as I look through the Australian records, wondering if I have what it takes. I must conquer my doubts over my knees and back to have a chance at this. So the challenge has begun before I even begin my quest.
So be it. My very existence means I owe it to myself to take this on.

violator
04-08-10, 2:19 pm
So be it. My very existence means I owe it to myself to take this on.

word...

Necromancer
04-12-10, 4:03 am
Brothers in arms there, Violator. Train hard brother.

Cellardweller
04-21-10, 5:35 pm
You're a poet warrior Necro. Your words are truth. Subscribed!

Necromancer
05-04-10, 4:30 am
Glad you can take something from it Dweller. Give it all you got and then some bro.

Necromancer
05-06-10, 3:51 am
Shit, sometimes it feels like I’m edging my way up a mountain crossing trying not to fall off the path. Too many calories, not enough calories; more protein, more carbs, less cardio. Edging around injuries that block such a narrow road to progress. Constant improvement requires a relentless pursuit of the finer details before your progress stalls or you fall off the path completely. Sometimes it shits me to tears, but at the end of the day it is the 24/7, 365 days-a-year discipline that drew me to this climb in the first place. It sets the brothers apart from the mindless majority. The constant concentration ensures a clarity of mind that allows me to pursue this journey with a calm single-minded resolve. So I look forward to the next ascent knowing every step I have taken so far, on or off the path, has brought me to where I am now. There can be no regrets when a journey is a true pursuit. I will not fall. I will not fail.

Necromancer
05-07-10, 7:55 am
I choose to look outward today, not inward.
I bring this up after seeing a kid getting bullied by the side of the road today. I was nowhere near him cause of traffic, but for just a second we locked eyes. I saw myself in that pain, even after all these years of being well and truly able to look after myself. Some scars can run so fucking deep.
Are you just a skinny kid who’s sick of being picked on? Do you just wish to be left alone to do your thing? Then, brother, we are kindred spirits. Close your eyes and summon every face that has ever told you you’re wasting your time in the gym. You haven’t got the genetics. That being small is your lot in life.
See all those faces in your mind’s eye. Now: loudly tell them all to get fucked.When I was a teenager I willed myself to grow. Everyone said I didn’t have the genetics to get big. But I had the mind. I walked into a gym at a painfully thin 112 pounds. Fifteen years old, was I, and a short-arse at five-six, my height spurt dismally over. At age 18 I had crept up to 125. Three years later, after I was free of all the school bullying, I was 224 – exactly twice the boy who walked into a gym with a black eye six years before. And at the same height.
After seeing that kid getting whaled on, if I can tell just one young bloke today how worthwhile the iron game is I can sleep in peace. How many good mates you can make through it. How it can make a man of you; bring you peace, honour, respect. How it can give you a steel spine to base your life on and bring you above all the bullshit of this world. I owe so much to my training it’s ridiculous. Don’t accept your lot in life. Don’t accept your genetics. Step up to the plate and take what you want out of your journey.
There’s plenty of big fellas in this brotherhood. But there’s always room for a new set of broad shoulders. Make ’em yours.

Necromancer
05-09-10, 1:40 am
I love Sunday nights. The week spreads out before me with so much promise. My body has almost forgiven me for the previous week of relentless training, I can sense my immune system feeling strong and I’m itching to get in there, to try some different, to find a new way to make my body conform to my will. Maybe a different exercise here and there; mostly just a face-to-face fight with the brutality of gravity. Nothing fancy there, and that’s my kinda shit. The bases are loaded, and I’m fucking well ready to take the mother of all swings. The bride’s been shopping and the fridge and pantry are loaded up with everything I need for the week ahead. Tuna. Chicken. Brown rice. Skim milk. Catalogued and sitting in position like soldiers ready for action. Tins of Nitro, Pak, Pump, standing to attention. All the different combos of protein I’ll need. No running out of nothing midweek. It’s all there. Loaded and ready to go. Organisation is everything. Not just another week but a week in my life I get only one shot at. There’s no such thing as the mundane. I just fucking love training. If I think about it too much more I’ll be too amped to sleep.
Cock da hammer, it’s time for action.

J-DOG
05-09-10, 6:18 am
I love Sunday nights. The week spreads out before me with so much promise. My body has almost forgiven me for the previous week of relentless training, I can sense my immune system feeling strong and I’m itching to get in there, to try some different, to find a new way to make my body conform to my will. Maybe a different exercise here and there; mostly just a face-to-face fight with the brutality of gravity. Nothing fancy there, and that’s my kinda shit. The bases are loaded, and I’m fucking well ready to take the mother of all swings. The bride’s been shopping and the fridge and pantry are loaded up with everything I need for the week ahead. Tuna. Chicken. Brown rice. Skim milk. Catalogued and sitting in position like soldiers ready for action. Tins of Nitro, Pak, Pump, standing to attention. All the different combos of protein I’ll need. No running out of nothing midweek. It’s all there. Loaded and ready to go. Organisation is everything. Not just another week but a week in my life I get only one shot at. There’s no such thing as the mundane. I just fucking love training. If I think about it too much more I’ll be too amped to sleep.
Cock da hammer, it’s time for action.


Necro

hey brutha it's been awhile since we last spoke but you know how it is life just happens and we have to work and train around it! Now that's not to say i am not striving everday towards my goals, but I have to be smarter and more focused with a five month old girl named Brooklyn in my life plus working two jobs and study, and trying to help my wife whenever i can. But you know what I wouldn't change a thing because becoming a father is the biggest high a man can ever have, breaking a PB on ass to ankles squats does come close though! But we as Animals thrive on new challenges and push boundaries further and further to better ourselves each and every new day. It's those challenges that set us apart from the norm.
I haven't written to you since new year but I promise I have had my knuckles to the grindstone everyday, smashing the weights hard and heavy, weighing every meal to make sure I give my body the fuel it needs to grow and even getting some cardio in for better recovery with Brooklyn strapped to my chest.
I have read every single one of your posts bro and find myself nodding in agreement to them all because I couldn't have put it in better words myself what my thoughts and feelings are. Keep em coming bro because you are a shining light of determination in a world that sometimes needs more goals!

Peace bro

J

Necromancer
05-11-10, 4:13 am
JD ... knew you’d be in there giving it your all mate. Two jobs, study, Brooklyn and the wife? Your journey is jam-packed for sure, but you know in the years ahead I can’t begin the amount of satisfaction you going to feel when you reflect on all the hard work you’ve been doing, and the success you’re sure to have. These are the times that will define you. Good things come to those who work hard. And yes ... squats are the king! Take care brother.
- N

Necromancer
05-12-10, 4:02 am
I buried my best mate once upon a time. The boys put me in charge of his funeral booklet. Usually there’s a nice prayer or some prose on the back page; but my mate marched to a different beat - a pair of dumbbells on his coffin was proof of that. Instead I put the picture he had stuck on his fridge on the back page of his booklet. It was a cartoon image of a stork swallowing a frog. The frog looked a goner, and had only his back flippers hanging out the stork’s mouth, but the frog had managed to get his arms out and was trying to strangle the bird, even as he was being eaten alive. Underneath were the words: ‘‘Never give up.’’
Luke never did. Neither will I.

Necromancer
05-17-10, 6:51 am
The peace I crave lies in the rage of my workouts. I found my solace today in a lonely corner of my gym; 30 minutes of rudely brutal training, 30 minutes of dark, angry music that brought me to the tranquillity I so desired. The small window in the sparse, concrete wall open to a howling southerly that ushered in the coldness of the rising autumn. It stung at my skin, almost forcing my attention to the pump that coursed through my back. Two sets of weighted chins off the power rack with 45-pound plates. Then 12 straight sets of bent-over rows. Between each set I counted off 60 seconds, leaning out the window, the weak sun on my face, oblivious to the gym behind me, focused, directing the blood flow into my back with crisp concentration. Without moving location it’s onto eight sets of straight barbell curls. There’s no mirror at the power rack. I don’t need to see what I’m doing. I just need to feel the contraction, to summon all the dark anger, the frustrations, and turn them into raging reps that will define me. Biceps screaming, my back ruined, I rack my weights to fade away wordlessly to where my journey takes me. Tonight I will lie in bed, briefly considering the dull ache I have created; and then I will drift off into the inky darkness, at peace.

Necromancer
05-20-10, 6:10 am
With a sinking heart I read of the great warrior nations that have walked the earth before me that no longer exist. I am not a violent man by nature, but I feel sadness and regret at the growing extinction of that honour and tradition. Like so many things in the modern world it has been swamped by technology, by the must-have-now generations that know nothing of the value of hard work. Of straight-out fucking guts. Defining myself has nothing to do with the things I own. There is nothing that can be bought that will win my respect. If honour and tradition are dying, they sure as fuck won’t die with me. I will forge an iron legacy that follows in the footsteps of all the fighting spirit of the old world. I will define myself in my iron arena. I will fight on my battleground every training day and leave nothing behind. I will not become part of the disrespectful world around me. I will find honour in following my path, in pushing my physique to the limit of genetic potential and then some. My sinking heart will be replaced by a rising hope, a rising awareness that, scattered to the ends of the earth, the Animal nation lives and breathes a brand of honour and respect that will never die.

Necromancer
05-23-10, 5:45 am
When I was 18 I had a set of brown bathroom scales. When you got on ‘em they made a click as they passed the nine-stone mark. The spring was a little wonky, and when it settled on a weight it would click again before it settled on a number. There was dust gathered under the circular read-out on the left side. There was a long scratch on the bottom left side where your ankle would sit.
What’s my point? Point is I virtually willed myself into existence. At night before I crashed out I would shut my eyes and see every detail of those scales. I would hear the click as the read-out turned, even smell the soap and wet towel scents of the bathroom as it happened. And I would see it settle on the weight I was shooting for. I would literally feel the satisfaction of reaching my goal. I would imagine the experience so vividly that after a week my mind couldn’t tell the difference between if it was real or imagined. So, almost without fail, at every weekly weigh-in - always a Friday morning - I would hit my target. I imagined 50 pounds of weight gain in 12 months, week by week, so intensely that my body did exactly that.
I make a pledge this week to use my grey matter a little more after reflecting on the early years of training. Thing is, sometimes your journey can take so many turns you lose touch with the things that really got you moving in the first place. Detours can be a distraction, but the true path is always obvious when you stay focused on where it is you’re heading. Thighs can move a ton. But what’s between your ears can move a mountain.

korinek00
05-23-10, 8:04 pm
Good stuff in here. Especially like the one about the mind. The mind is powerful beyond measure. You can literally will yourself to do something, just comes down to how bad you want it. That's what it all boils down to.

How bad do you fuckin' want it? How bad do you want to lose 30 pounds? How bad do you want to bench 300? How bad do you want that manager position? Most people just don't want "it" bad enough.

When one wants something bad enough, everything will fall into place. The how isn't important, shit, when you fuckin' want something so bad, you don't know how it will happen, just that it WILL happen.

Necromancer
05-26-10, 8:40 am
That’s exactly right mate. The biggest mistake I’ve made in my past is to limit myself by constraining beliefs. You determine how big you can get. You determine how much you can lift. You determine the man you become. So that being the case - think big, brother.
Then think even bigger.

Necromancer
05-27-10, 6:57 am
I think they’re putting the cart before the horse in this day and age. People are modelling themselves on pop culture images because they think looks are going to give them the feelings of self-worth they crave. It should be the other way around. I have always believed self-worth effortlessly reflects its own healthy image. True, my pursuit of my physique was initially motivated by a desire to be left in peace after years of bullying. But that very quickly gave way to the feeling of empowerment getting big gave me. Not only was I controlling big weights and gaining size; I was gaining confidence. The feeling I was no longer a passenger. That’s so much more valuable than looking good in a singlet. Shit, if I just wanted to look good I reckon I would have stopped years ago. That shit is shallow. You base your training on impressing others and it’ll come down like a house of cards. I pursue the development of my physique as a vehicle to pursue my self development, period. Getting lean to show off my abs at the beach? Not me. But I do think the feeling of power combined with fitness is one of the most empowering you can have. My mates can tell my current state of mind simply by looking at my physique. It always follows my mind set. My body is the window to my soul.

Necromancer
06-03-10, 2:25 am
The mundane. It floats in the air like a fine dust, trying to settle upon your skin the second you stop moving. The mundanity of this life will seek to cloak you at every turn; at every you decision you make. Like a cobweb mundaneness tries to grab at you, constrict your dreams and stifle them into conformity. Even in the gym, the very place you fight to be an individual, it hangs in the air; it hangs in the eyes of those who lack the willpower, the balls, to forge their own journey. Mundanity cloaks these people with despair and conformity. Amongst the very steel that builds your path, they plough through unseeing work-outs with no results, the only emotion in their eyes the confusion, the wondering, the jealousy, that you alone have shaken the dust of mundanity away. Your body-numbing, industrial-strength lifts shake the cobwebs away in singed, smoking sinews; the ferocity of sets blows the mundaneness of life away with a crushing intensity that ensures you rise beyond. Surely there could be no greater shame than to breathe your last breath knowing the dust had settled; that the cobweb had closed in and strangled the life out of your journey. And since no man knows when his time will come the only honourable path is one of constant pursuit of improvement. Always striving. Always animal.

Necromancer
06-06-10, 4:37 am
I’d like to strongly disagree with my body, and set it straight man-to-man.
I have built this image in my mind, see. I’m standing in front of the bathroom mirror. I have pictured it so vividly every night for the past two weeks I know every last mark on the mirror, every crack on the wall, the squeak of the floorboard as I walk up. I know the shorts I am wearing; I can even feel the fabric against my skin. I can see the definition in my physique down to the veins and which way they sit. I can see the size I have added and the cuts I have hewed. I have pictured all of this, every mole on my skin, every single fucking detail, hell-bent on burning an after-image that stays in my head. Like looking at the sun, then looking away.
But more than what I saw in my mind is what I felt. The overpowering satisfaction of having seen something through. Of realising potential, then going right past it. Saw that satisfaction in my own eyes as I considered the physique I had created. Felt the strength and vitality coursing through my veins, felt all the good vibes of achievement, of mastery, that I knew were flowing into every aspect of my life.
As I summon my resolve for the week ahead, my body is still adjusting to my vision. My legs hurt so much from Friday’s squats I stagger the first few steps every time I stand. My arms and shoulders are dull with ache. Hell, even my jaw is sore from chewing. No matter. My mind is stronger than my body ever will be. My body will just have to make its painful adjustments until it has fulfilled the vision I will turn into reality.
I may be staggering, but staggering is enough to get me onto the bench press in the morning. My mind’s ache to achieve will always overcome mere physical aches and pains.

Necromancer
06-13-10, 2:00 am
I expect to lift more, to lift heavier, with each passing day, week, year. I expect my workouts to get more intense. How else am I going to improve this body of work? But it seems with time, there’s just more and more shit going on outside the gym, more people demanding my attention, and I found myself feeling that pressure this past week as I trained. I started getting the shits until I thought it through. I expect bigger and bigger tests in the gym; if I am to grow completely on this journey, why would I not expect bigger tests outside the gym as well? So everyone wants a piece of me. So my time is at a premium. It’s just another weight to lift. Another plate on the mental bar to keep me honest to keep me growing in every facet. I don’t expect to fail a lift, so this week I won’t expect a busy life to get in the way of my training.
Such things are not hassles. They’re tests. It’s all a matter of the meaning you attach to things. So fucken bring it on then. Load up those bars - physical and mental - and let’s get busy. I refuse to buckle.

Necromancer
06-18-10, 4:23 am
Aren’t I ever satisfied? That was the question I was asked this week. Surely I was big enough, strong enough. ‘No, and I hope I never am,’ was my frank reply. ‘But why wouldn’t you want to be ever satisfied?’ was the horrified response. I found a polite, dismissive way to ditch the subject. Some people - many people - are just never going to get it. And they’re the satisfied people. You can find them everywhere. The out-of-shape ones. They got satisfied. The in-shape ones who just spent 12 months going to the gym five days a week and look exactly the same as they did a year ago. But how much satisfaction can you take in knowing you never took it out as hard as you could? Fuck that shit. While this isn’t about a pursuit of unachievable perfection, it is a journey to test my very core. I reckon the very second you get satisfied that your lifts are going up, you’re dropping bodyfat or gaining size or whatever, is the very second you start to taper off. Whatever level you’re at ... there’s always another level to take it to. I choose the relentless pursuit of something better over a pile of steaming, stagnant satisfaction any day.
I savour the high moments in my journey. But I’ll never be satisfied.

Necromancer
06-24-10, 6:18 am
‘‘You’re lucky,’’ I was told today. ‘‘Training seems to work for you.’’ Brothers, sometimes this shit gets right under my skin. I’m not fucking lucky. I’m sore as all fuck. I’m tired cause my shoulder’s playing up a bit, and if I sleep on it too long I wake up. I’m training around it and it’s shitting me to tears. No luck there. Lucky? Fuck, there’s no luck involved in a conveyor belt of brown rice, tuna, brown rice, chicken, brown rice, steak. I guess it’s easy for people with no ticker to brand success in the training stakes as lucky. You don’t have to acknowledge your own inconsistencies that way. This is such a fucking long, monotonous slog that virtually all luck is taken away. That’s what makes this journey worthwhile. That’s why you can see another brother doing well and know he’s not lucky at all. He’s one determined bastard. That’s why this road appeals. It’s no four-lane highway. It’s a mongrel of a dirt track up one particularly steep and unforgiving mountain. No luck. No shortcuts. Just year upon year of sweat and pain and toil. Just the way I like it.

Necromancer
06-27-10, 6:39 am
I refuse to be pigeon-holed. I refuse to conform to the strait-jacket society tries to tie me into. I will not let mundane expectations weigh me down to the point where I lose sight of who I am. I am the sum of all my lessons learnt. I am the product of all my own blood, sweat and tears, of my own hands, of my own willpower. There are no regrets, for all that I have gotten right and gotten wrong bring me to this point in my journey. Give me a hammer and I will smash my own pigeon hole; of my own shape and beliefs. In fact, fuck that: give me a sledge hammer. Or a jack hammer. Or even just a few rusty dumbbells and an Olympic bar. I create my own image, my own vision. I meet my maker every day when I stare into the mirror. I am my own vision and no-one else's.

Necromancer
07-15-10, 1:05 am
Inertia: A property of matter by which it continues in its existing state of rest or uniform motion in a straight line, unless that state is changed by an external force. 2. a. inertness, sloth. b. a tendency to remain unchanged.
There’s a difference, see, between building your physique, brick by brick, and blindly going through the motions. What ... you’re still doing the same split because it works? Bad news. There may have been momentum there. You may have been making great gains. But momentum peters out, unless you’re rolling down a hill ... and there’s never been a hill I’ve seen that didn’t run out. Besides, I dunno about you, but this journey I’m on is of the upward ascent. Making gains is only a signal that inertia is about to hit. Reaching the peak is only a sign that it’s time to start charting the course to the next one. My journey isn’t about coasting. It’s about grabbing life by the balls.

Sprint
07-16-10, 8:11 pm
Bro, the amount of multi-quotes that were almost on this post...you make me wanna go & smash the weights right this second (1am in UK, no 24 hr gyms around me, it'll have to wait).
About rememberin why you started this in the first place & everything. Just reminds me of how far I've come, which tells me how much further I can go.
Thanks buddy.

Necromancer
07-18-10, 1:03 am
Bro, the amount of multi-quotes that were almost on this post...you make me wanna go & smash the weights right this second (1am in UK, no 24 hr gyms around me, it'll have to wait).
About rememberin why you started this in the first place & everything. Just reminds me of how far I've come, which tells me how much further I can go.
Thanks buddy.

Yo Sprint ... glad you're looking ahead but never forgetting what made you who you are. Hope you smashed it when the gym doors opened ... train hard brother.

Sprint
07-18-10, 6:58 pm
you better believe I did :D

Necromancer
07-25-10, 6:57 am
It’s a cold, grey July morning. The frigid air is blowing in through the lightly rusted, grate-covered window that peers out the grim, concrete wall as I stand, rugged up, in the power rack. The coldness piercing the skin of my face contrasts to the heat of the pump in my quads; the rudely chaffed skin across my back is still protesting a minute after I have removed the ageing Olympic bar from my back. In my mind I’m a 13-year-old kid again, standing in the garage on a frigid July morning all those years ago. See, we’d done some weightlifting at school the day before, and much more than doing a bit of enforced exercise, I’d had a life-changing experience as – finally – I’d kept up with the big kids of the class at something. Finally I’d found something I was good at. So the next morning before school I was in the garage doing clean and jerks with a bit of fence pipe. Feeling the rush of a pump. Already sensing that the past doesn’t equal the future with growing excitement I could barely contain.
Twenty-six years later and I’m not the skinniest kid in the class any more. He’s grown and evolved. But just like the rings in an oak tree, somewhere deep at my core, that little kid still brims with joy at the sight of a gym, or a big weight just waiting to be conquered. I constantly strive for more on this journey; but my love of training will never be lost in my relentless pursuit of my goals. I’m held to that passion by a skinny teenaged kid who’s too strong to be messed with.

Necromancer
07-30-10, 5:34 am
There are plenty who get in and smash the weights. There are plenty who are strong. But in terms of mental strength it’s not about who’s the bravest to go in under the biggest weights. That may be an element, but in this game mental strength is being hard on executing your game plan every day, every week, every month, every year. Decade on decade. That’s where a legacy is born. It’s not about lifting hard for half a month on a new program and then having a lapse for the other half and fluffing your way through. All I need to do is glance in the mirror. Do I have the mental strength to forge through this journey? My physique is the ultimate lie detector.

korinek00
07-30-10, 9:01 am
Damn right. It's all about mental strength. I don't even see my workouts, my meals, or just every day livin' as a "physical" task anymore. It's all mental, it's all in your fuckin' head.

Necromancer
08-01-10, 6:46 am
Damn right. It's all about mental strength. I don't even see my workouts, my meals, or just every day livin' as a "physical" task anymore. It's all mental, it's all in your fuckin' head.

That's it brother. Focus on the outcome and the process almost takes care of itself.

Necromancer
08-06-10, 7:53 am
The further I get along in this journey, the bigger the challenge to have my uninterrupted time in the gym. Everyone wants a piece of me: the wife, the family, work ... I got finger in a million pies these days. I found myself getting the shits about it as I walked into the gym this morning, annoyed that thoughts of things to be done later in the day would dare take from my focus on the iron. But then I stopped and thought about it. I expect the weights to get heavier and heavier; my workouts to get more and more hardcore. How else will I grow? So why is life outside the gym any different? I got a lot of shit going on because I want to go places. So focusing on my workout is just another heavy weight to lift, only with my mind. Of course there’s more vying for my attention. So load that bar up as well. I’m good to go. I’ll just get better at zoning in on my training. Just like my training gets more intense. I can either get frustrated ... or just get the fuck going. There’s no choice as far as I’m concerned.

Sprint
08-06-10, 10:37 am
damn straight bro. there are no obstacles, only challenges waiting to be met & overcome.

Necromancer
08-10-10, 4:24 am
damn straight bro. there are no obstacles, only challenges waiting to be met & overcome.

That's it Sprint ... hope you're giving it all ya got brother ... onwards and upwards

Necromancer
08-10-10, 4:27 am
I’ve gotten under some big lifts over the years, had some spew-inducing workouts at times ... but it’s humility that’s one of the biggest challenges in this game. The bigger you get, the leaner you get – the more shit you seem to cop. And you gotta do it with a smile on your face. I’d finished training this morning, see, and I was sitting in my car taking my Nitro – hands-down the best supplement known to man I reckon. I don’t take it in the gym to avoid the stares but I want it in my system as quick as I can. Carpark’s filling up and next thing I got a bloke hovering behind me in his car, blinker on, wanting to park close to the door. Fuck me. What’s a few extra steps when you’re going to train anyway? ‘‘You right, mate?’’ he says - around a cigarette. Shit. A million replies surge at the back of my throat. None of them too sunny, I’ll give you the tip.
But it’s like stepping up to a big squat, right? The hardest thing to do is often the right thing to do. ‘‘Mate, I haven’t finished my workout yet,’’ I smiled instead, popping another Nitro. He looked confused. Maybe one day he’ll figure it out. But I ain’t moving anywhere till I’ve had my supps.

Sprint
08-10-10, 6:51 am
Thats it bro, gotta do wot needs to be done. If that means making some part time lazy ass idiot walk a cuple extra steps, so be it. Shit, you've just done him a small favour squeezing that little bit of extra exercise out of him.

Necromancer
08-12-10, 5:55 am
As I’ve said before here somewhere, I see myself as an oak tree, weathering the elements, growing in spite of everything – even growing because of everything. And so the winter is falling for me; it’s time to shed the fat like a tree sheds its leaves. It’s not a bad thing; it’s a natural progression to always cycle into a lean phase – it’s just adding another tree ring, and it only signals another growing season ahead. Already the veins are poking up here and there like branches being exposed. There’s something about the discipline of a strict diet that just floats my boat. It’s so testing the general population will never take it on. But then I expect so much more from my journey than others. You never grow when you’re in the comfort zone. Already I can feel my body snapping to attention to all the supplements now I’m dropping out carbs, and rather than get the shits with being a bit lower on energy, I revel in the science of body chemistry. Your body is just the ultimate anabolic. Feed it right and you’ll be amazed at the results. Let’s get this shit on.

violator
08-13-10, 9:46 am
^^^reading this while pounding down some chicken breast & veg...i need those branches...fuck the comfort zone...i NEED that extra tree ring...dieting is a bitch, but its posts like this that keep me inspired & focused...

your words are like an outback wildfire, blazing hot and intense...love ur writing my southern hemisphere brother...keep it anabolic...

Necromancer
08-15-10, 7:00 am
^^^reading this while pounding down some chicken breast & veg...i need those branches...fuck the comfort zone...i NEED that extra tree ring...dieting is a bitch, but its posts like this that keep me inspired & focused...

your words are like an outback wildfire, blazing hot and intense...love ur writing my southern hemisphere brother...keep it anabolic...

Push through it brother ... your definition will define you ... train hard

Necromancer
08-15-10, 7:03 am
It’s like the incessant dripping of a tap in my mind. Leaning up is such a different discipline to building size or power. Every spare second – when I’m driving, when I’m under the shower, or when I could be otherwise plain wool-gathering – I’m telling my body to get leaner. Not so much as a request; a demand. I’m in charge and I dictate what this body does. So as I was driving to work today I said it out loud: ‘‘get leaner’’, I told myself, amid the mayhem of The Prodigy’s Firestarter in my speakers. Might seem crazy, but you gotta get clear on what you’re doing sometimes, even if that means simply saying it to yourself. And in my mind I pictured a swirling wind catching the autumn leaves and shaking them off a tree ... that’s me, dropping the fat. So I sit here at work while other people are talking shit, listening to the rustling of leaves, telling my body to lean the fuck up. The Firestarter lyrics are still in my head ...
I’m the trouble starter, fuckin’ instigator;
I’m the fear addicted, danger illustrated;
In spite of my depleted carb state I have to smile. ‘‘What’re you smiling about?’’ comes a passing enquiry. ‘‘I’m burning body fat,’’ says I. They should know better than to bother the crazy man. Don't disturb a hungry Animal.

m.u.l.e.
08-17-10, 6:53 pm
you said it all in a nut shell man. I swear it was like you took the words straight from my brain and transcribed to this digital format. Keep on making yourself happy and others will either follow and fall away.

Necromancer
08-19-10, 5:34 am
you said it all in a nut shell man. I swear it was like you took the words straight from my brain and transcribed to this digital format. Keep on making yourself happy and others will either follow and fall away.

That's it bro ... be true to yourself and you'll find out who your true mates are ...

Necromancer
08-19-10, 5:36 am
It’s the tough times that make you question what you’re doing. I’m sitting in one now; somewhere in the dark region between the last hard meal of the day and the protein shake before bed. I slant my carbs when I’m leaning up so it’s all protein by the end of the day – it’s more in step with my metabolism, plus it primes my cardio session first thing in the morning. But fuck I’ve run out of puff near the end of the day. So here I sit ... thinking about the full belly I might get from my shake, my Pak ... a tablespoon of glutamine and all that other shit. I reckon people make the mistake of feeling bad about questioning their own motives. Not me. You learn when you ask empowering questions. And this journey is all about learning. Asking questions of yourself doesn’t necessarily mean doubting yourself. Back in the old days there were people who would fast as a means to bring better understanding of themselves. I regard the pursuit of leanness as much the same thing. The harder I push my physique, the more I grow my mind.

Necromancer
08-23-10, 5:19 am
The true test is not when you’re in your comfort zone – when you have everything you need at hand; a stocked pantry and kitchen, all your supps, your regular gym 10 minutes away. The big test is when you’re out of your routine. When you’re on the road, looking for a chance to train, making a pain in the arse of yourself at the restaurant to get what you need. Stuffing mini bars full of low-fat milk and chicken. Doing chins off a door frame. Anything to keep some forward momentum in your journey. These are the times when it’s easiest to drop your bundle, to say it’s all to hard, you’ll pick up the slack when thing are back to ‘normal’. Thing is, I have no interest in being ‘normal’. I’d rather be me. So fuck the excuses. These are the times that shape me and I take them on with an open mind. I step away from the keyboard certain the next time I sit down to offer a thought I will have grown in every way. There’s no going back on this path; hell, there’s not even any standing still. Time waits for no man ... or Animal.

Necromancer
10-03-10, 12:04 am
Sometimes there’s nothing to say. There’s nothing but hard slog. And that’s just the way this game works most of the time. The little triumphs in the gym are known only to me. All but my forearms are covered up in sweats and I’m a shrouded work in progress. No unwanted observations from others good or bad. Just hard slog: same fucken brown rice, tub after tub. Same tuna. Same chicken. Same endlessly full bottle of water. Up in the morning like clockwork, same route to the gym to an unseen slog. Hit the sack with a bellyful of protein shake at the same time. No airs, no graces; just plain hard work, driven to do it by the very fact that I live and breathe. I must justify my existence. At the moment it feels like a live in the shadows. But that’s my type of deal.
From out of the shadows come monsters.

Necromancer
10-05-10, 6:09 am
I’m hurting already, 10 hours later. That deep, deep ache that tells your body it seriously needs to reconsider upsizing to cope with the shit you’ve just put it through and, no doubt, intend to inflict on it again. There’s something so primal about deadlifts. It’s just a don’t-argue, harden-the-fuck-up kinda exercise. Now ain’t that grand? It just underlines to me what this pursuit is all about. An olympic bar, big plates and white-knuckle grip. From the floor, too, so there’s no cheating to get you underway. Just an explosion of all you got that leaves you gasping for air, your main muscle slabs screaming and those fireflies of light dancing around the edges of your vision. A true test of power. A rude demand to grow. Like squats, there’s danger in the big weights that fires the adrenaline into fight-or-flight mode. There’s plenty of potential to fuck yourself up. Call me twisted, but that’s fun. And deads make you earn your stripes, too: who hasn’t ripped their shins up or smashed their knees learning the ropes. If you step up to the deadlift plate, you’ve pretty much gotta give it a red-hot go. If you see someone doing deads, you know they’re not time wasters. They’re hardcore. Maybe that’s why you see so few people doing them these days. Take away their shiny machines, leather arse cushions and smooth-action pulleys and they’ll burst into tears. Fuck that. I’m old school. I’ll take the rusty road to size.

Sprint
10-05-10, 8:24 am
Been a bit quiet lately bro.

Good to have you back, I enjoy your words.

Necromancer
10-06-10, 7:50 am
Been a bit quiet lately bro.

Good to have you back, I enjoy your words.

Yo Sprint ... good to be back online brother. Been halfway round the world and back over the past month - such trips open the mind. But there's no place like my home gym. I think that's how the saying goes anyway. I trust you've been banging out the reps.

Sprint
10-06-10, 8:14 am
Yo Sprint ... good to be back online brother. Been halfway round the world and back over the past month - such trips open the mind. But there's no place like my home gym. I think that's how the saying goes anyway. I trust you've been banging out the reps.

Absolutely bro. If you're not moving forwards, you're falling backwards.

Welcome back.

Necromancer
10-14-10, 4:37 am
I’ve been at this long enough to know when I’m growing, and I know I’m growing now. I’ve wrecked my body in the pursuit of size this week, and it’s paid off. I’m aching – that deep ache that speaks up every time you so much as scratch your arse; but the muscle bellies are swollen as well, laden with nutrients. It’s like they’re stretching the skin tight over the ache. I know that feeling; it’s the feeling I’m after and I savour it. I don’t want to let this anabolic state get away from me, and my work colleagues look at me sideways but no longer bother to mention it as I stagger on throbbing legs to and from the fridge during my shift with tupperware containers of brown rice and chicken. There’s bags of glutamine and BCAAs in my desk, big bottles of water and an empty tin of Nitro, hands-down the best supplement of all time, sitting on top to remind me to keep growing. And I write this to remind myself that growth is a conscious thing. I don’t just smash myself stupid in the gym and forget about it. I look at that tin of Nitro and tell myself to grow, I put it right in the forefront of my mind. To keep this feeling going. I will my body to conform to my desire. It’s weeks like this that remind me how much fun the journey can be. And you know the best thing? There’s still arms to go this week. Can’t walk straight ... and won’t be able to comb my hair either. That’s some beastly shit.

Necromancer
10-22-10, 6:45 am
What are you prepared to sacrifice to fulfil yourself? This is a day that is meant to test me, when it would be easier to drop a few calories and cut a few corners. Busy days when everyone wants a piece of you, when there just isn’t enough time to get all my shit done. ‘Fuck this,’ you could say to yourself. ‘I’m growing like a weed ... I can coast through this day and pick up the slack tomorrow.’ Time evaporates and it would easy to pick up a few minutes by not stopping to swallowing a handful of supps, or pulling your workout up just that little bit short, or skipping a meal. But momentum is a fragile, fleeting thing. It has to be nurtured. You gotta push like fuck to get it started and then if you slip just a second it’s gone. Call the workout short by just a set? Skip that protein shake? Take a look around. The world, and all its gyms, are crammed with those who are prepared to cut a corner here and there. You can see it in their eyes sometimes; like a cross between guilt and shame as they smile sheepishly at you while they fudge their way through another tread-water workout. I’d rather be collecting stamps than bullshitting myself in the gym with a half-arsed workout. If something’s gotta give, it’s not gunna be my will. After all, I’ve worked too hard and too long to build this mass to go shaving a corner off it.

Sprint
10-23-10, 5:40 pm
What are you prepared to sacrifice to fulfil yourself? This is a day that is meant to test me, when it would be easier to drop a few calories and cut a few corners. Busy days when everyone wants a piece of you, when there just isn’t enough time to get all my shit done. ‘Fuck this,’ you could say to yourself. ‘I’m growing like a weed ... I can coast through this day and pick up the slack tomorrow.’ Time evaporates and it would easy to pick up a few minutes by not stopping to swallowing a handful of supps, or pulling your workout up just that little bit short, or skipping a meal. But momentum is a fragile, fleeting thing. It has to be nurtured. You gotta push like fuck to get it started and then if you slip just a second it’s gone. Call the workout short by just a set? Skip that protein shake? Take a look around. The world, and all its gyms, are crammed with those who are prepared to cut a corner here and there. You can see it in their eyes sometimes; like a cross between guilt and shame as they smile sheepishly at you while they fudge their way through another tread-water workout. I’d rather be collecting stamps than bullshitting myself in the gym with a half-arsed workout. If something’s gotta give, it’s not gunna be my will. After all, I’ve worked too hard and too long to build this mass to go shaving a corner off it.

Fucking. Awesome.

Necromancer
10-26-10, 1:53 am
Training for size is a double-edged sword. There are no shortcuts, just the hard, long slog of dedicated workouts. The thing is it’s just so easy to get lost in the long months of training that you lose the intensity needed to make gains. Familiarity can breed unintentional slackness ... or maybe slackness isn’t the word though. You can look back over a month and insist you weren’t slack at all. Did all your sets. Didn’t miss a beat. Yet haven’t gained a pound. It’s like tripping over a low-lying branch you never saw coming until you’re picking yourself up. That’s why I gotta remind myself every day to give it a little more. Do something slightly different. Add a couple of pounds on the bar, knowing I’m going to fail, but doing it anyway. A drop set. Giant set: something. Anything. I have a new daily schedule now as I sit in my car, post-workout. I take my Nitro and I not only think about what I’ve just done differently, I also write it in a little notepad that I stuff in the door sidepocket (along with a thousand empty Nitro sachets, which drives my wife bonkers). It’s just a little technique to make me accountable. To make sure I’m busting a gut to turn the ordinary into the extraordinary.

ZombiePower
10-28-10, 11:29 pm
good bro how ya doing so far?

J-DOG
12-22-10, 1:29 am
I’ve been at this long enough to know when I’m growing, and I know I’m growing now. I’ve wrecked my body in the pursuit of size this week, and it’s paid off. I’m aching – that deep ache that speaks up every time you so much as scratch your arse; but the muscle bellies are swollen as well, laden with nutrients. It’s like they’re stretching the skin tight over the ache. I know that feeling; it’s the feeling I’m after and I savour it. I don’t want to let this anabolic state get away from me, and my work colleagues look at me sideways but no longer bother to mention it as I stagger on throbbing legs to and from the fridge during my shift with tupperware containers of brown rice and chicken. There’s bags of glutamine and BCAAs in my desk, big bottles of water and an empty tin of Nitro, hands-down the best supplement of all time, sitting on top to remind me to keep growing. And I write this to remind myself that growth is a conscious thing. I don’t just smash myself stupid in the gym and forget about it. I look at that tin of Nitro and tell myself to grow, I put it right in the forefront of my mind. To keep this feeling going. I will my body to conform to my desire. It’s weeks like this that remind me how much fun the journey can be. And you know the best thing? There’s still arms to go this week. Can’t walk straight ... and won’t be able to comb my hair either. That’s some beastly shit.

Necro

Its been another year brother and here we are again, looking down the barrel at the end of a hard ball busting 12 months of repetitive eating and training. I have followed your posts with consdierable interest as always and am reading them again (while i sit here with my third meal of chicken and brown rice for the day).

It has been a jam packed 12 months of training, work, study and adjusting to the ever growing demands of family life. Having my daughter Brooklyn has been an absolute blessing and though while challenging and many sleepless nights she has made me learn and grow emotionally and mentally this past year and i have to thank her and my beautiful wife Carmen for giving me that.

This in turn has enabled me to really be alot more productive with what little spare time i have these days, which has translated into some brutal sessions in the gym which has actually seen me lose my fair share of training partners this year. Apparently there was a lack of intestinal fortitude to get the job done on their behalf. But it has reafirmed that no matter how sore my muscles are from the constant pounding of heavy weights and no matter how many meals seem to be the same with no end in sight, it is in my blood and DNA to do take this journey "my journey" as far as my body and mind will take me.

With some choice reminders from the dedicated few here on the forum and especially yourself to remind me why i do this, i pick up my hardhat and lunch box and go back to the grindstone for yet another new year!

My new years resolution........Make next year even bigger and better than this one!

Merry xmas bro and lets start the new year off right! Now get to fuckin work!

JD

Necromancer
12-26-10, 3:17 am
Necro

Its been another year brother and here we are again, looking down the barrel at the end of a hard ball busting 12 months of repetitive eating and training. I have followed your posts with consdierable interest as always and am reading them again (while i sit here with my third meal of chicken and brown rice for the day).

It has been a jam packed 12 months of training, work, study and adjusting to the ever growing demands of family life. Having my daughter Brooklyn has been an absolute blessing and though while challenging and many sleepless nights she has made me learn and grow emotionally and mentally this past year and i have to thank her and my beautiful wife Carmen for giving me that.

This in turn has enabled me to really be alot more productive with what little spare time i have these days, which has translated into some brutal sessions in the gym which has actually seen me lose my fair share of training partners this year. Apparently there was a lack of intestinal fortitude to get the job done on their behalf. But it has reafirmed that no matter how sore my muscles are from the constant pounding of heavy weights and no matter how many meals seem to be the same with no end in sight, it is in my blood and DNA to do take this journey "my journey" as far as my body and mind will take me.

With some choice reminders from the dedicated few here on the forum and especially yourself to remind me why i do this, i pick up my hardhat and lunch box and go back to the grindstone for yet another new year!

My new years resolution........Make next year even bigger and better than this one!

Merry xmas bro and lets start the new year off right! Now get to fuckin work!

JD

Yo J-Dog,
All the best to you and the family. Sounds like you're stepping up to the plate and making Carmen and Brooklyn proud, as of course you were always going to do. Fatherhood's just another huge step in the journey. Don't worry about burning up training partners; I train alone these days - last one I had I had to drive to hospital (true story) and I was still warming up!
As for me, I'm still here but sometimes there's nothing to say. Only to do. My old man always said if you've got nothing good to say don't waste your time and everyone else's by blowing hot air. In this game sometimes you're inspired with thoughts, other times it's nothing but hard slog. I got my theories but like they say, there's only so many ways to skin a cat. But after the past 12 months and 16 countries I've travelled through I'm sure I'll be waxing philosophical soon enough.
Until then - our workouts? Dunno about you JD, but the very thought of the training I've got in mind makes me go pale ... bring that shit on.
Take care bro

Necromancer
12-29-10, 3:42 am
The hardest path to take is almost always the right one. I reminded myself of this in changing a few things to my training routine this week. My stomach churned and joints groaned at the very thought of what I had in mind; but again: the hardest decisions are the right ones to make. And so I took it on, and nearly pulled over on the drive home from the gym to throw up. At the time I told myself the nausea, the dizziness, the quivering of pulverised muscles would pass. I told myself as I sat – still strapped into the car seat for 10 minutes after I pulled into my driveway – that the discomfort would pass, that I would not throw up my Nitro. That eventually my body would stop screaming ‘what the fuck have you just done to me’.
And in time I got my senses back, and forced down my protein, then willed myself to eat when my disobedient body seemed so intent on rejecting the goodness I was putting into it. Eventually I started to feel good, and now, hours later, I know I made the right call. That I didn’t dog it and waste a day I’ll never get back. Satisfaction sits on your shoulders like a another stripe earned. Regret is nothing but a cross to bear ... and I lift enough weight as it is.

Necromancer
01-03-11, 3:21 am
Pain surrounds this iron pursuit. The burn of the reps, the aching growth are things I seek actively, embrace as a sign I am progressing forward on this path. The pain of injury? That’s just a cross to bear. Fuck, we all got our shit to deal with, and if you give it a red-hot go in the gym for long enough, something’s gunna give. Torn this, torn that ... I even used to hobble round with fractured feet from leg presses. It’s an impingement for the moment ... a pain in the arse - shoulder, really - that’s getting in the way. At night it’s waking me up; at the gym it’s putting just that little hesitation into particular movements.
I caught myself spitting the dummy over it this morning to the thin air around me as I lifted my arm over my head at home. I told myself to wake up: ‘nobody gives a shit, so clam it’. Some injuries you really gotta watch. This one isn’t so bad - a bit of physio and strapping. Nothing to be a cry baby about. Up my aminos, double my Nitro, Flex. It’ll come good.
My point? What I focus on is what I get. So I remind myself to stop focusing on the nagging pain. Strapping, physio, supps, rest and train like a mad bastard. That is what I must focus on: solutions.
Shit happens. So take the hit and deal with it. At the end of the day is there any other way? The success of my journey will be measured not by the obstacles in my path, but the way I overcame them.

Cellardweller
01-03-11, 8:49 am
What I focus on is what I get. So I remind myself to stop focusing on the nagging pain. ... That is what I must focus on: solutions. Shit happens. So take the hit and deal with it. At the end of the day is there any other way? The success of my journey will be measured not by the obstacles in my path, but the way I overcame them.

Brother this spoke to me in many different ways. Going through some shit of my own right now and this is what I needed to hear. Thanks.

Necromancer
01-06-11, 10:58 pm
Brother this spoke to me in many different ways. Going through some shit of my own right now and this is what I needed to hear. Thanks.

You'll get on top of things mate. Focus on where you're headed and you don't notice how steep the road is ... train hard brother.

Necromancer
01-12-11, 4:15 am
I lie with my face squashed into an ill-fitting cut-out in the massage table. Above me my physio is mashing away at my shoulder, asking me why the hell I have to do everything to the extreme, going so hard I can hear her knuckles audibly pop and crack as she tries to knead out the knots in my deltoids. There’s seven needles buried in my delts and traps as she works away, and I know I’m going to be barely able to feel my fucken arm later in the day. And in spite of that, all I can think is how I’ll probably be able to smash out a wicked shoulder session in the next day or two. I start to grin at the floor. Madness can be a beautiful thing.

Rusk08
01-16-11, 2:00 pm
Pain surrounds this iron pursuit. The burn of the reps, the aching growth are things I seek actively, embrace as a sign I am progressing forward on this path. The pain of injury? That’s just a cross to bear. Fuck, we all got our shit to deal with, and if you give it a red-hot go in the gym for long enough, something’s gunna give. Torn this, torn that ... I even used to hobble round with fractured feet from leg presses. It’s an impingement for the moment ... a pain in the arse - shoulder, really - that’s getting in the way. At night it’s waking me up; at the gym it’s putting just that little hesitation into particular movements.
I caught myself spitting the dummy over it this morning to the thin air around me as I lifted my arm over my head at home. I told myself to wake up: ‘nobody gives a shit, so clam it’. Some injuries you really gotta watch. This one isn’t so bad - a bit of physio and strapping. Nothing to be a cry baby about. Up my aminos, double my Nitro, Flex. It’ll come good.
My point? What I focus on is what I get. So I remind myself to stop focusing on the nagging pain. Strapping, physio, supps, rest and train like a mad bastard. That is what I must focus on: solutions.
Shit happens. So take the hit and deal with it. At the end of the day is there any other way? The success of my journey will be measured not by the obstacles in my path, but the way I overcame them.

Can relate to that. Thanks for the inspiration man. Keep it up

Necromancer
03-08-11, 4:01 am
Can relate to that. Thanks for the inspiration man. Keep it up

Hey mate,
Sorry ’bout the late reply ... sometimes when I’m working through an injury or building towards a goal I just step away from everything. Sounds a bit weird I know but sometimes you just gotta strip things down to the bare basics and slug away with a single-minded intent. At least that’s how I do it. So I been away from the animal kingdom takin’ care of business. Hope you’re getting on top of it bro ... reckon I’ve come out the other side myself. All fit and ready to smash it right up am I ..

Necromancer
03-21-11, 2:52 am
I’m into beginnings more than endings. I got a fair imagination, and that means there’s nothing better than anticipation in my book. I think that’s why I’ve been in this game from when I was 15 right up to now, my 40th year of trudging the planet. Some people get their funk on by crossing the finish line, but the thing with the steel game is the pursuit of physique or big lifts has no distinct end. It’s a journey that lasts a lifetime. That’s maybe why so many don’t last: there’s no tangible goal that’s ever going to tell them for sure they’ve arrived. There’s always a bigger lift to be had, a lower bodyfat to be reached, an eighth-inch to be added. But it’s that never-ending nature of the quest that lights my wick.
Contemplating my journey in a time of injury recently I’ve realised that I’m constantly scheming. Almost monthly I’m starting all over again with a slightly different diet, a routine, a specific light, whatever. Hitting the reset button over and over again. Getting enthused.
No finish line on my horizon ... just the starter’s gun bangin’ away, over and over again.

Necromancer
07-18-11, 8:13 am
Been a while since I’ve posted. So where have I been? Working. Training. The endless cycle. I’ve looked here and wondered about adding something. But sometimes there’s nothing to say. Philosophies, at the end of the day, are pretty fucking simple when you boil them down. Most times there’s nothing to say. Just the endless blood, sweat and tears that will, in the end, set me apart in this journey. Just another plastic container of steamed fish and brown rice. Another tall bottled of spring water. Finding the remarkable in the unremarkable, relentless grind of my training. So ingrained in my psyche that I don’t even think about it. It’s no badge of honour, it’s my life. The only reminder is the double-take of a stranger in a public place: even the stares in the gym are a part of life that fail to register in their unimportance. So on I toil. Every week, every year, same time, same crappy sweats, through the heat of the summer, through the chill of the winter. Forging myself through my physique, on my journey. Not imprisoned, but set free. Within these walls.

violator
07-21-11, 4:01 pm
Hey Big guy.... missed ur thoughts around here... good to see you posting again...

Necromancer
07-26-11, 4:17 am
Hey Big guy.... missed ur thoughts around here... good to see you posting again...

The Violator!
Yeah I'm still floating about mate ... it is a sworn life-long pursuit after all. Could be posting a bit more too ... low carbs makes you all introspective, I've found. Hope you've been smashing it up in the weights room ...

violator
07-26-11, 4:02 pm
... low carbs makes you all introspective,.

Agreed...theres something bout being deep in a diet and focused on ones goals that allows for greater insight into what one is made of...no doubt

u bet ive been smashing it... loving the carbs! but my tendonitis is slowing me down a bit, gonna have some therapy on it tomorrow...

u a rugby fan? cause u guys stomped the shit out of us last weekend & i reckon the kiwis are gonna give us both a hiding in this years series....

and lets not even go there for the world cup...

keep reppin that iron big guy!...anxiously awaiting ur next gem!

Necromancer
07-27-11, 5:01 am
Mate ... 21 of your best stayed at home to rest injuries so we only beat your second team! Nobody over here's reading much into it - full-strength South Africa can crush anybody like a bug on their day. As for the Springboks forward pack - now that's what I call the Animal kingdom ... those blokes are straight-out frightening ... bring on the World Cup, brother. There's no tougher contest.

Sprint
07-27-11, 7:30 pm
... it is a sworn life-long pursuit after all. ... low carbs makes you all introspective, I've found. ...

Aint that the truth!

Necromancer
07-28-11, 8:12 am
I see the same old man every time I walk through the gym doors, heading in for my workout. He’s old as the hills, but he has that build and poise of a man who has trained all his life – Old skin but dense muscle refusing to age. He is always seated; but in even in this position he carries the poise and pride of a man who has lived his life with no regrets. A man who has never given in, who has never given up his values, a man who will go to his last breath swinging like a champion. I see him sitting there, every morning, as I walk by: and every day, as I walk past, he looks at me with raised, enquiring eyebrows. It is a look caught up somewhere between hope and expectancy: he wants to know that I’m there to give it some. He wants to know if I’m just a passenger or if I’m going to nail myself silly, balls-to-the-wall style. The sight of him reminds me both of what I am here to do now, and of the legacy I create for the years to come with my actions today. I nod to him, an unspoken signal that I am up for it. His relief is palpable; sometimes he even blinks away at welling emotion and pride.
That man sits not in the real world, but in my mind. He is me: many years down the path on my journey.
He questions my resolve every day, knowing what I do today will create what he is in my future. The responsibility that makes me feel is almost overwhelming.
And I will never let him down.
Never.

violator
07-28-11, 8:16 am
Never

Necromancer
12-14-11, 3:54 am
When I was a skinny teenager payin’ my dues under the squat rack, there was a fucking big poster of Tom Platz hanging crookedly above my head on the wall. I can still close my eyes and see it now. He was bungin’ on a front double-bi, but all you could see were two mutherfuckin big legs. Shit, he had to pose one in front of the other or he woulda knocked himself over. Out of proportion? Fuck yeah. But so what ... there’s a bunch of well-proportioned competitors that have long since been forgotten. The Golden Eagle carved a lasting name for himself on those two tree stumps. All you can do is the best with the genetic hand you’ve been given. I’ve trained my lagging bodyparts over the years and made ‘em acceptable for sure. I’ve never shirked it. But I ain’t ever gunna be no Lee Labrada. So be it. Sometimes my legs have been so swollen I could hardly walk straight. I’m a bottom-heavy motherfucker. Probably don’t have to train ‘em half as much. But where’s the fun in that? I just love a bending Olympic bar. Ya just gotta embrace your freak ...

Cellardweller
12-14-11, 11:42 am
Good to here from you Necro. Miss your words around here. You're always inspiring.

violator
12-15-11, 3:10 am
... I’ve never shirked it. But I ain’t ever gunna be no Lee Labrada. So be it. Sometimes my legs have been so swollen I could hardly walk straight. I’m a bottom-heavy motherfucker. Probably don’t have to train ‘em half as much. But where’s the fun in that? I just love a bending Olympic bar. Ya just gotta embrace your freak ...

love ur work big guy...


Good to here from you Necro. Miss your words around here. You're always inspiring.

x2

Necromancer
01-10-12, 4:58 am
Hey fellas. Thanks for the props. Hope you're blazing it up under the steel. I'm still here ... I'm that bloke lurking in the shadows in the corner of the gym, day after day, month after month, year after year. It's funny seeing the holiday crowd, the new year's resolutioners who turn up every January for the month. They almost look shocked to see you doing the same crazy shit with no fanfare. Or maybe cause I'm wearing the same fucken training gear ... or using the same horrifically battered bottle with the peeling animal sticker on it. If you happen to cross paths and give them a nod they almost look ashamed, like they've let themselves down. It's a shame folks feel that way about themselves, but what can you do? This journey isn't some piddly little promise made over a new year's martini. It's me. And you just can't deny who you are. I train. I train hard. And I fucking love it.

XxREAPERxX
01-10-17, 9:55 pm
NECROMANCER...

Are you still around as we miss your motivating posts and insights into your world!

Look forward to you returning to the fray.....and wish you the best for 2017!

Peace brother.

XxREAPERxX