Respect

Before I begin, let me get this straight. Train and I do not typically seek out respect among they fellas in the gym. We don't give a fuck, really. The so-called 'stare-downs' that we used to get, especially when we first joined the gym, did not affect us the slightest bit. Each time we make it to the gym, each time we climb the flights of stairs, each time we step through the gym door, we would've already gone through enough self-objections that could send any other sane man weeping into the toilet, crying out in utter objection to the torture that lay ahead. We're insane then, you say? Fuck yea. You have to be insane if you love this sport. It is an extreme sport, that's what I always say when my colleagues see me struggling to bend down to pick up a damn file or when I'm eating my 2nd lunch at 3pm without puking my guts out. Mock me, laugh at me, pity me, I don't fucking care. I am able to do something with results that very few people can do.

Now what's this about the guys in the gym and respect? Let's just say that they forked it out by the masses. Why? Here, again, I repeat: Insane Insanity. If you wanna know what that means, try reading up at www.animalpak.com or stay tuned for my future post about it. Of course, my rendition will be with regards to what Train and I go through.

Train and I didn't realise what was happening until we got back from Australia. Sure we used to get people approaching us more and more often as the weeks went by since we first joined but we didn't take much notice of it due to the fact that we were always gasping for breath between sets and couldn't give a fuck about what they want to know. I honestly couldn't give a fuck about anyone else but the weights when i'm busted to my knees trying not to puke and hoping my lungs don't burst into flames. Most of them started to acknowledge us and greet us when we appeared, a handful tried their luck at maybe getting a 'lil recognition from us. You want recognition? Fucking earn it, that's what I say. Show what you can do and it will come your way even if you don't want it. Same goes with respect.

Anyway as I was saying, the moment we got back to the gym after a 3-weeks absence, the moment we walked through the gym door, we were greeted by almost everyone. Truth be told, it was quite gratifying. So train hard, train like an animal, be a freak. Everyone can lift weights, everyone can grow, but it only takes an animal to lift hardcore, to lift the unimaginable poundage, to pull off Insane Intensity.

-Zeus

Away Without Official Leave

Yeah, it's been almost 4 months. Everything's a blur at the moment. Time passed so fast I didn't even see it coming. But what's new, eh? Another day goes by, another day behind the desk, another day in the fucking jam, just another fucking day alright. The only days I look forward to these days are training days. My only current angst? Apart from all the shit I'm going through in the office, I only wish I could break my training over 5 days instead of the current 4.

Why am I here now? Why am I sitting, at 11.43pm, in front of my computer and finally deciding to write again after months of ignorance? Because I feel like it, goddammit. As I was having my 5 raw eggs at 10.30pm, I just felt the sudden urge to spill my thoughts out right here. Not about my insignificant existence in this world as a slave to money, but about weights, training, lifting, dieting, eating. You get what I mean. Don't fucking say I'm a fool to be a slave to money. Where the fuck do you think I get the dough to buy my supplements, food, pay the bills, SURVIVE? This is the real world. This is where Trainwreck and I come to share our plight, doused with every inch of reality. Hell yeah there are those who are fortunate enough to be able to live their life being in the gym for 8 hours a day,training, eating and sleeping right, being sponsored for their supplements, etc. And then you have those that I resent: The ones that have their daddy give them a fucking golden spoon. So what if I didn't say silver spoon? Fucking sue me.

This is how we do it. This is how most people who are hardcore like us, who live the life of steel, do it. We have to clock in the hours in the office, go through at least 2 hours of jam a day, we have to try our best to eat right according to any available food we can get to, consume 6 or 7 meals a day, and then still have to brace our already-fucked-up mind and body to hit the gym for an all-out balls-to-the-wall session of training: Insane Intensity. Nothing less.

Animal sytle. If you can't hack it, then get the fuck out of my gym.

-Zeus