Finally!

That damn soleus muscle has healed enough that one can run again. Oh not fast. The minute one pours on too much speed it twinges, but fast enough to call it a jog. OK it's not a fast jog, its taking 35 minutes to do about 3.6 k instead of 5, but enough that one is sore in all the right places afterwards.

And oh gods the high...

It's better than any drug...

It's this state of bliss that infuses the body...

And leaves you happy and relaxed and affectionate...

Right until someone (not Him slapping the crook of his elbow like he is trying to find a vein) goes and does something really freaking annoying...

Sighs  nothing lasts forever :)

A weighty responsibility

There is a debate raging all over one's Fet feed at the moment about weight. Man that topic seems to be a perennial favourite all over that site. This is a little different because it is about how failing to control your properties weight, is a failure on the owners part. Yes it's not just that you own a fat chick, but that you fail as an owner when you do so... 'cos you know potential health reasons. And why would you do that?

Well life is all about choices. This evening one came home with plans of going to the gym. He woke up. And you know what? One small, slovenly slave curled up on the couch with Him instead. Why? Well sometimes life presents you with either or choices. You make a choice... in this case the pleasure of spending some time with Him rather than doing ab work...

Yanno put like that it seems like a no brainer

And He didn't make one get off the couch to go to the gym...

So this is all His fault

This blame shit is great... beams happily

Chasing perfection

It has been a casual observation that generally body builders all seem to have a mild form of body dysmorphic disorder. It seems to be the thing that gets them into the gym to begin with. They just want to add/ lose a little something off somewhere and before you know it, they are spending more time eating right and lifting right than they are actually living as other people know it.

A case in point is the other great love in one's life; the woman who is one small slave's hairdresser. Now some of you may think it strange to love your hairdresser, but a good one is hard to find around here and frankly anyone who can make you look five years younger, which a good one can do, is worthy of your love. Anyway one does digress... as is often the case :)

She started out in the gym because well, her personal life sucked and she wanted to get fit. Then she wanted to get strong. And then she found that she was blessed with one of those bodies that rewarded their owner with very visible results. She could pack on the muscle and grow and change...

A love affair bloomed...

Then there was the first comp where she placed third. For those of you who don't follow body builders, they are rather like many other small groups of specialised competitors. There is a lot of schmoozing and politics involved and friendships and sucking up and, and, and... To place like that in a first comp is quite an achievement.

Next thing her husband is gone. Well he was an ass and he didn't like the changes so stopped having sex with her. As one said he was an ass on so many levels. But that is not what this is about. So she did what any woman does during a break up, she made some radical changes in her life and her body and went into her next comp a lot more seriously than the first and a new life began.

A life that ended her up in hospital at one stage as her kidneys tried to put her on life support. Someone might have taken the diet a little too far and forgot the importance of water. She got a lot smarter after that and got a good coach who monitors everything she does and what she eats...

And they say that the O/p crowd is extreme...  but again one does digress.

She is not alone in this. A lovely customer came in today. Now she is a serious competitor. Actually she looks like the she hulk, only blond. Not a natural body (unlike the hairdresser) needless to say. You aren't going to get that big as a woman without help. 

We were chatting as we are wont to do and she was saying that the last comp will probably be her last. It nearly killed her and her kidneys. In fact she had to find a new doctor as her last one of many years was less than supportive. Apparently she didn't understand this was her life and how she lived it.

See you can't say to one of these girls you need to stop. It's not that simple. It is what they do and they are what they do. Their identity is wrapped up in the gym and the chasing of perfection, however strange that perfection may be to some. All of their positive feed back comes from coaches and fellow competitors and it is all backed by endorphin highs. It is a heady, narcissistic world.

Now the customer needs to get something checked out and she is avoiding the doctor because her blood work will be out of whack and her body fat is all over the place. In other words post comp she is eating like a pig (as they do) and she is feeling fat. To translate that she is probably still below 15% body fat and feels like she is over 30%. The mind is a dangerous place :)

Needless to say one spent some time convincing her to go to her doctor to get things checked out, rather than self diagnosing, and that her doctor won't care about her being post comp. If anything the doctor will probably be relieved that it is going to be her last comp and that she won't have to keep a difficult patient in check.

What has prompted this page of musings you may be wondering? Ah well in the middle of this the customer turned around and said you are looking good, while running a professional assessing eye over one. See most serious gym goers can assess body fat/ muscle composition at a glance and in a gym fat is a major factor. You want to look more muscled then you are going to need to reduce body fat.

See you think they are admiring your arse, they aren't. They are doing a fat check :D

It was high praise indeed... preens happily

Anyway at the moment the virus has cleared up, that damn soleus muscle had time to get better, the one good thing about being sick, and one was contemplating going for a run tomorrow. Then disaster struck. Spinning lightly in the kitchen to get something from a cupboard the damn muscle pulled again. It's this bloody cold weather we are having. Everything freezes up... bring back summer... there, one said it out loud.

And there one was, bemoaning the inability to get to the gym and run and feeling lazy and fat...

And that is how it starts, that path to damnation and dysmorphic disorders...

That feeling of being fat

Lifting gives you that high, but it is nothing in comparison to running.

Sighs endorphin junkies... we are a strange and fucked up lot

The annual check in

It has been a strange year in some ways. The weight stabilised and one ended up round about a size 10 (US 6), which is fine as one is only about 162.5 cm tall (about five three and a half). It is worth noting that one is no light weight, hitting the scales at about 66-68 kg (about 146 pounds), mainly due to that high muscle mass. It means that one fails the BMI even though one is about 26 percent body fat. It also means that there is everything from size 6 to 12 in the wardrobe. Gods it would be nice if the fashion industry could agree on what is a standard size... but that is a rant for another time.

Over the last year the body shape has changed quite profoundly even though the weight has remained about the same. The legs are leaner, fat deposits from fingers and toes have disappeared, abs are more clearly defined and one is still getting smaller, even though the scales are staying in place. This is due to more muscle mass going on from the exercise, which ironically there is less of than ever before. LOL figure that one out :D

The skin is still firming up. They say that it takes two years for skin to regain its shape after weight loss and that certainly seems to be true. It is interesting to note that the legs, which have had a massive weight loss, have ended up with no sag at all. Maybe that has something to do with having the largest muscle mass on the body... it's kept everything in place better.

There are now bones ghosting along under the skin and muscle; shades of hips and shoulder blades, edges of rib cages... bones that haven't been seen in nearly fifteen years are seeing the light of day. 

And damn don't those little suckers make life uncomfortable, always getting between you and a hard surface :(

There is more food being consumed; fruit has been added back, three serves of dairy a day and the odd new potato or sweet potato before doing leg work. Mainly 'cos one literally can't get through the programme without them. You don't have to worry about taking this diet too far. The body is marvellously self regulating in some ways. Don't feed it enough of the right things and it simply will refuse to perform... it just waits until you are under something heavy to exact its revenge :)

Of course there has been a downside to all this good news. At the moment, as one mentioned above, the body fat is at about 26 percent, which at this age is considered ideal. It is also that magic number where you seem to catch any bloody virus that is going around. Hopefully that is just an adjustment phase as the body sorts itself out, 'cos if being sick all the time is the price of lean then there is going to be some changes...

In the form of supplements, not donuts...

Sighs wistfully at the thought of a donut, sometimes gluten intolerance sucks

First time for everything

The other day one trotted around to the gym, sped up and bam! Something hurt like hell in the calf. So doing the smart thing one stopped running... well it was more that the pain stopped one running... but it's the same thing, right? Anyway, doing the sensible thing one let it rest for a couple of days until this morning.

The day dawned dark and sunless, as it does at 5.15 at this time of the year. Feeling relaxed and refreshed, a rare combination mid week, one stretched out and ran to the gym. All was well. Right until one accelerated and bam! The pain came back.

Muttering depreciating comments one hobbled into work to chat to our resident expert on things muscular. 

What have you done he asked.

Pulled the soleus muscle by the feel of it. He looked vaguely impress that one actually knew what a soleus muscle was and felt around before confirming the diagnosis.

So, how long will this take to get better one asked, cutting to the heart of the matter.

He looked somewhat nonplussed

This is the first exercise related injury. Never having pulled anything before one has no idea on what to expect.

Getting old sucks doesn't it was his cheerful reply

Yes, yes it does and so does the idea of no running for weeks! Weeks! FFS this is like being hobbled. There is no possible escape from a predator.

Peers around nervously...