I’m thinking about taking July off from training. What happens if you don’t train?
What if I don’t train? Holy smoking guns! Just presenting the notion causes me to cringe, like I made a blasphemous statement before the raging spirits of muscle and power. The thunder I heard, that flash of light — tell me they were my imagination.
Let’s try that again. Ask yourself
>> What if I don’t train?
• You shrivel up and die within seconds. Just Kidding! It takes days. Still kidding. Personally, I’m hoping humor will protect me from obliteration, an old-fashioned superstition steeped in mysterious fact. When I don’t train (never happens) I wisely wear a wooden cross around my neck to guard me from demons.
• Guilt is immediate, and eats away at the soul.
• The muscles die from lack of stimulation and tender, loving care.
• You become confused life and things become less clear. Disorder rules, collapse is inevitable.
• You care less, as there is less to care for and care about.
• Stress mounts, as that which dissipated the dreadful disease is no longer present.
• People point and stare and whisper about your squishy arms and jelly belly. People can be cruel.
• What once was light in weight becomes indescribably heavy. Oooff is an unappealing (and most revealing) sound you make more and more frequently, like, when carrying out the garbage.
• Your snug T-shirt fits like a sack and your baggy sweatpants like a leotard. Cute.
• You find it fatiguing to order pizza and beer from Joe’s Place. You wish they’d just send it automatically.
• Great energy is expended moving from the recliner to bed after the late show, nevermind moving the iron from the squat rack to the benchpress after work.
• The only discipline you exhibit is when your dog drags you around the block for the evening poop ‘n scoop. Down, Spot.