The Shakedown

Tonight, I've got three friends coming over the check out the little basement gym I've put together. Sure, it's great for me, but lets see how it fits the 5'9" Blobert and the 6'4" Man from R.I.D.L. Cubby is, for all practical purposes, the same size as me, but with sexy hair.

Haven't seen Bob in a while, so we'll meander through the usual insults about gripgayness, bench press specialization buggery, and the utter slackness that has become my training lately. That's ok. I'm on a comeback trail. I'm not just starting from a dead stop, I'm laying on the ground, face down, with a 300# blue mohawked post-teen sitting on my back.

I am starting to run my mouth a bit over at Tagg's blog, which means sooner or later I'll have to put up, or shut up. That's ok. I need the pressure to build up. This last year I competed exactly once, and that was at an olympic lifting meet, of all things. I liked it, but I really have the temperment of a powerlifter, or strongman, or even a highland games guy, despite never done the HG gig.

There are some SM contests close by this summer, and I might consider hitting one, despite the difficulty of training for SM without the required implements.

So tonight I'm gonna talk some smack, lift some weight, grill some meat, and drink some beer.