So I’ve been diligent, or obsessed, I don’t know which, about getting fit and fitness in general. (I wonder if there’s a clear delineating line that separates diligence from obsession. Anyways,) hating how scrawny and lanky I am, a change was required and a decision needed making. It was incumbent that I transform my uninspired, lazy-ass self to become a runner of treadmills, a lifter of weights, a frequenter of local gym. A day’s visit would last about good two hours, beginning with endorphin releasing cardio, continuing on with some iron pumping, finishing up with swimming—to cool down, of course. Yes, a good workout routine, if I do say so myself. And I’d put myself in the repeat mode for five days. Like a good diligent ant, I’ve followed this routine, often throwing in yoga to the mix for good measures, for about a good three months time.
“What’s the goal behind this binge, this uncharacteristic dedication to fitness?” you may ask. Go on. Ask. Good. Well, it’s like this (and I’ll write my answer with the dead serious, straightest face possible): I want to become an Adonis that I believe I can mold out of me. In other words, quoting Lester Burnham (a.k.a. Kevin Spacey) in American Beauty, “I want to look good naked.” I want to see defined muscles bulging out of me, but of course not like those steroid abusing, muscle bunnies—you know the type, the ones whose muscles have muscles. Again, I want to look good naked.
Like I said, I’ve been working out regularly, no, religiously, for three months. I’ve been eating right: for instance, increased my protein intake—I’m trying everyday to put in my body one gram of protein per every pound I weigh. So, I should see some progress, right? But, no! The gods of nature, namely Genetics, have blessed me as G-d had blessed the Egyptians with the plagues. (I thought this reference would be apropos since we’re in the midst of Passover season.) Alas, it was determined that my bone structure would be frail, that when I wrap my hand over my wrist my thumb and my middle finger would overlap, that due to my fast metabolism and unusual bowel movement gaining weight would forever be a challenge. Should someone hold up a stick, like a pencil or a chopstick, for example, and compared it to me, that person would note the remarkable likeness. To sum it up, it was determined—my DNA be damned—that I’d be an ectomorph, a hardgainer. My dream of becoming a sexy Korean god, looking good naked, oozing sexuality … there it goes, up, up, and away … oh, don’t go … oh, oh … good bye.
Well, to achieve my desired goal, I have to do the following. (1) I have to eat constantly. It’s recommended that six meals a day is ideal. Yes, no problem indeed. I have the time and the resources to stuff myself to no end. Better yet, can anyone find me a health care professional who’d be willing to insert a feeding tube directly into my stomach? Then I’d have a constant stream of nutritional goodness coming into my body. (2) I need to cut down on cardiovascular exercises. Again, not even an issue. Sure, my source of endorphin rush, a natural means of getting high, is gone. It’s not important that I should feel good for exercising. No, not important at all. (3) I need to weight train. Good, I’ve got something right! But wait, what is this? Machines are useless? I should lift with free weights? Hmm… Okay, okay. This is good. Very good. Let’s look around and see who uses free weights in my gym. Yes, we have the juiced up, muscles-having-muscles paradigm of man’s excess or perfection (or however the way you’d prefer to look at them) making a guy like me forever feel small, inferior, insignificant. It's not intimidating. Hardly. No, no, I’m not intimi... Me? No Siree. You know what? I’m blessed because, my goodness, it’s been pre-determined that I’d be damned if I do and damned if I don’t. Nothing feels as good as the proverbial saying, stuck between a rock and a hard place, being an appropriate metaphor for my predicament.
Three months without any results.
Three months of doing it all wrong.
Three months of needless dedication and diligence.
What’s the point?
I’m losing my motivation.
Any suggestions?
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