Completely.

When I was young I had no sense of myself. All I was, was a product of all the fear and humiliation I suffered. Fear of my parents. The humiliation of teachers calling me “garbage can” and telling me I’d be mowing lawns for a living. And the very real terror of my fellow students. I was threatened and beaten up for the color of my skin and my size. I was skinny and clumsy, and when others would tease me I didn’t run home crying, wondering why. I knew all too well. I was there to be antagonized. In sports I was laughed at. A spaz. I was pretty good at boxing but only because the rage that filled my every waking moment made me wild and unpredictable. I fought with some strange fury. The other boys thought I was crazy.

I hated myself all the time. As stupid at it seems now, I wanted to talk like them, dress like them, carry myself with the ease of knowing that I wasn’t going to get pounded in the hallway between classes. Years passed and I learned to keep it all inside. I only talked to a few boys in my grade. Other losers. Some of them are to this day the greatest people I have ever known. Hang out with a guy who has had his head flushed down a toilet a few times, treat him with respect, and you’ll find a faithful friend forever. But even with friends, school sucked. Teachers gave me hard time. I didn’t think much of them either.

Then came Mr. Pepperman, my advisor. He was a powerfully built Vietnam veteran, and he was scary. No one ever talked out of turn in his class. Once one kid did and Mr. P. lifted him off the ground and pinned him to the blackboard. Mr. P. could see that I was in bad shape, and one Friday in October he asked me if I had ever worked out with weights. I told him no. He told me that I was going to take some of the money that I had saved and buy a hundred-pound set of weights at Sears. As I left his office, I started to think of things I would say to him on Monday when he asked about the weights that I was not going to buy. Still, it made me feel special. My father never really got that close to caring. On Saturday I bought the weights, but I couldn’t even drag them to my mom’s car. An attendant laughed at me as he put them on a dolly.

Monday came and I was called into Mr. P.’s office after school. He said that he was going to show me how to work out. He was going to put me on a program and start hitting me in the solar plexus in the hallway when I wasn’t looking. When I could take the punch we would know that we were getting somewhere. At no time was I to look at myself in the mirror or tell anyone at school what I was doing. In the gym he showed me ten basic exercises. I paid more attention than I ever did in any of my classes. I didn’t want to blow it. I went home that night and started right in.

Weeks passed, and every once in a while Mr. P. would give me a shot and drop me in the hallway, sending my books flying. The other students didn’t know what to think. More weeks passed, and I was steadily adding new weights to the bar. I could sense the power inside my body growing. I could feel it.

Right before Christmas break I was walking to class, and from out of nowhere Mr. Pepperman appeared and gave me a shot in the chest. I laughed and kept going. He said I could look at myself now. I got home and ran to the bathroom and pulled off my shirt. I saw a body, not just the shell that housed my stomach and my heart. My biceps bulged. My chest had definition. I felt strong. It was the first time I can remember having a sense of myself. I had done something and no one could ever take it away. You couldn’t say shit to me.

It took me years to fully appreciate the value of the lessons I have learned from the Iron. I used to think that it was my adversary, that I was trying to lift that which does not want to be lifted. I was wrong. When the Iron doesn’t want to come off the mat, it’s the kindest thing it can do for you. If it flew up and went through the ceiling, it wouldn’t teach you anything. That’s the way the Iron talks to you. It tells you that the material you work with is that which you will come to resemble. That which you work against will always work against you.

It wasn’t until my late twenties that I learned that by working out I had given myself a great gift. I learned that nothing good comes without work and a certain amount of pain. When I finish a set that leaves me shaking, I know more about myself. When something gets bad, I know it can’t be as bad as that workout.

I used to fight the pain, but recently this became clear to me: pain is not my enemy; it is my call to greatness. But when dealing with the Iron, one must be careful to interpret the pain correctly. Most injuries involving the Iron come from ego. I once spent a few weeks lifting weight that my body wasn’t ready for and spent a few months not picking up anything heavier than a fork. Try to lift what you’re not prepared to and the Iron will teach you a little lesson in restraint and self-control.

I have never met a truly strong person who didn’t have self-respect. I think a lot of inwardly and outwardly directed contempt passes itself off as self-respect: the idea of raising yourself by stepping on someone’s shoulders instead of doing it yourself. When I see guys working out for cosmetic reasons, I see vanity exposing them in the worst way, as cartoon characters, billboards for imbalance and insecurity. Strength reveals itself through character. It is the difference between bouncers who get off strong-arming people and Mr. Pepperman.

Muscle mass does not always equal strength. Strength is kindness and sensitivity. Strength is understanding that your power is both physical and emotional. That it comes from the body and the mind. And the heart.

Yukio Mishima said that he could not entertain the idea of romance if he was not strong. Romance is such a strong and overwhelming passion, a weakened body cannot sustain it for long. I have some of my most romantic thoughts when I am with the Iron. Once I was in love with a woman. I thought about her the most when the pain from a workout was racing through my body.

Everything in me wanted her. So much so that sex was only a fraction of my total desire. It was the single most intense love I have ever felt, but she lived far away and I didn’t see her very often. Working out was a healthy way of dealing with the loneliness. To this day, when I work out I usually listen to ballads.

I prefer to work out alone. It enables me to concentrate on the lessons that the Iron has for me. Learning about what you’re made of is always time well spent, and I have found no better teacher. The Iron had taught me how to live. Life is capable of driving you out of your mind. The way it all comes down these days, it’s some kind of miracle if you’re not insane. People have become separated from their bodies. They are no longer whole.

I see them move from their offices to their cars and on to their suburban homes. They stress out constantly, they lose sleep, they eat badly. And they behave badly. Their egos run wild; they become motivated by that which will eventually give them a massive stroke. They need the Iron Mind.

Through the years, I have combined meditation, action, and the Iron into a single strength. I believe that when the body is strong, the mind thinks strong thoughts. Time spent away from the Iron makes my mind degenerate. I wallow in a thick depression. My body shuts down my mind.

The Iron is the best antidepressant I have ever found. There is no better way to fight weakness than with strength. Once the mind and body have been awakened to their true potential, it’s impossible to turn back.

The Iron never lies to you. You can walk outside and listen to all kinds of talk, get told that you’re a god or a total bastard. The Iron will always kick you the real deal. The Iron is the great reference point, the all-knowing perspective giver. Always there like a beacon in the pitch black. I have found the Iron to be my greatest friend. It never freaks out on me, never runs. Friends may come and go. But two hundred pounds is always two hundred pounds.

It’s a weight lifting / strength training programme, highly advised for pro lifters that have reached a plateau or complete newbies that are just starting out in the iron game.

I’m neither, I’m not a newbie, as I started lifting at the age of 12 and I’m not a pro, as I have abandoned training during the last 4 years, got fat and lazy. I don’t belong in either of those categories, however this programme is just perfect for me and here’s why:

STRUCTURE AND SIMPLICITY 2 alternating routines, consisting of 3 exercises each, 5 sets of each exercise, 5 reps on each set (except for deadlifts, lesson learned), that plus warmup sets. Nothing more, nothing less. Cardio is up to you, but should only be done during non-lifting days and should not be excessive: it’s great to sweat, but killing yourself on the bike, during a resting day, means less performance during a lifting day, which in turn slows down growth and messes with the programme.

LONGEVITY this isn’t a get ripped in 2 weeks programme, that’s not how Coach Rip does it. Persistence, patience and self control are tested and then rewarded. 3 months is the minimum amount of time one should commit to this programme. Results won’t be visible on your body right away, but with proper technique, the weight will be climbing safely and steadily, so will your strength and the visible gains will come last.

REAL WORLD USE most of the stuff you see today in magazines is highly bonified bullshit. Lots of routines are composed around the utilisation of the fixed movement machines, the gyms have plenty of these, they’re safe and make the uneducated users pretty happy: because minimal muscle groups are targeted, it feels like you’ve done a lot and very quick weight increase adds to the feel good factor. Now why do I have a problem with these? Because these machines lock your body into a set movement, you will move through a flat angle and there will be no variation of this. The problem is the fact that in the real world, there are no such things as perfect movements which only involve one muscle (group), angles vary and change all the time and it’s the job of supporting muscles and the joints to adapt and adjust to these changes, however if you used the fixed machines, they will be weak and disproportionate to the main muscles, which you’ve been training. Free weights: barbells, dumbbells and such do not suffer from these problems, as the rules at best lock you into a range of motion and into proper form, which maximises gains and reduces the risk of injury. The actual movement is down to you and your body’s anatomy.

I’m tired and sleepy. The above was intended as a self test of knowledge and should not be used in training, however if this did sound like something you would like to try, do yourself a favour: find “Starting Strength (2nd edition)” by Mark Rippetoe and Lon Kilgore (I got mine off amazon, pricey, but worth it), read it cover to cover and then start a programme like SL5x5. Full disclosure: the Amazon link is my referral link.

I will update this blog as I progress. K out.

Then I realise that while my love for natures miracles has somewhat faded, my love for cars and computers has more than increased ten-fold.

Exploring this understanding lead me to the cause of my detachment from all things natural – control. Nature is a beautiful chaos that always eventually puts things in their places and takes care of the big picture, while ignoring the needs of an unimportant individual.

I consider myself a very unimportant individual — I will never find a cure for cancer, in all likelihood, I will never be remembered and every single action I perform in my life will become meaningless the second my heart stops beating. So why the hell would nature make the sun shine on my day off?

Being at the mercy of nature made me adopt an alternative lifestyle, one where I am in control. In control of my car and the things I do on my computer. These might not be as beautiful as the view from mount Everest or the sunset at the beach, but this feeling of control provides me with a sense of peace and comfort. It relieves stress and puts a smile on my face more often than you’d think.

I never expected this, I never knew that this would be my life. I still don’t know if I love it or hate it.

I was one of the few on the station, that were actually enjoying the bit of snow that we were blessed with today. However even in this happy state I could not resist to share some of the fury that everybody at the station were experiencing against the train service providers.

The train that I got on was only delayed by about half an hour, so I can be considered lucky and please don’t think that I’m complaining. Most of the people on the station though, were ranting about their services being canceled, or about having to wait for over an hour to get a train home. The delays were between 60 and 120 minutes (at least according to the loudspeaker).

How can a service that has been running for so many years, that employs “high level professionals” and that prides itself on the level of comfort which they provide to their customers fail so badly at being prepared for the centimetres of snow? It’s hilarious.

Armed with my little Nokia E71, I took the liberty of taking a few pictures of the view that I had while on the platform.

So, having seen the “Severe weather conditions”, what do you have to say about the failure?