Mister Robert Jones Will Not Go Away


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Wouldn’t ya know it? Turns out Mr. Robert Jones’ full name is Dr. Robert Chatsworth Jones III, MD, of Boston, Massachusetts, and he’s living in Santa Cruz while overseeing oncology research at Stanford University. He prefers Doctor Jones to Big Bob or Bobby, but defers to Robert on rare occasions when behind the scenes (among close family members, standing in line at an airport urinal, amid the clang of grimy contaminated 5s and 10s and knurled training bars). This he tells me before I get into Doc, Doctor J and the rest.

I notice the doc and I have a lot in common: men of the world with barely 15 years between us, American in heritage, aspiring, deeply philosophical and given to levity. This was immediately apparent when I asked, “What’s up, Robert?” and he commented, “The world has become a three-ring circus, David, a parade of clowns with garish smiles, a freaky carnival sideshow. Juggling and walking a tightrope come to mind, a daring high-wire act.”

I knew well of what he spoke. “Yes, Doctor,” I agreed. “The gym’s become an Olympic bar with one too many plates, a pair of maddening dumbbells, loose, jiggling and differing in weight; a frayed cable about to snap, a three-legged bench press supporting a rusted bent, lopsided bar. It’s too much, nonsensical and makes me crazy. Nothing’s working. What’s missing?”

“Contentment,” he said, “that is the measure.”

If bombers know anything, we know contentment. “To lift weights with grand pursuits is a good thing, but to leave the gym spent and content, that is the best life has to offer, the most a human being can achieve. The rest are pure vanity, commendable byproducts, agreeable accidents or favorable coincidence: medical degrees, elite affiliations, Mr. America, Homecoming Queen, Best Lifter, a shape to die for,” I exclaimed with that infectious bomber-zoom in my voice and gaze.

He stared upward and to the right, that private space of contemplation. “There’s nothing wrong with the pursuit of the latter motivators,” he proclaimed, “they’re wholesome, noble and true...”

“Unless of course they’re driven, selfish, egotistic and arrogant, thoughtless and mindless, unrealistic and foolish,” I reminded the good doctor.

“David,” proclaimed the cultured man of medicine, “though a goal is sought for our self does not make us self-centered. Though an aspiration is outstanding does not make us irrational. And the worthy pursuit of a worthy purpose need not make us obsessive and single-minded. The wheel goes ‘round; we seek, we learn, we grow.”

I proposed a sequence of riddles to match his final summary: Here’s a good one for those on the street with lotsa stuff and time and questions and answers:

What would you rather have --

• The perfect training plan or the will to do it

• A lifetime gym membership or the courage to use it

• Endless supply of barbells and dumbbells, or the desire to lift them

• The exact diet or the discipline to apply it

• Grand visions of muscle and strength or the perseverance to pursue them

• Abundant time, means and know-how to train or the industriousness to combine them, and make them work

• The mighty goals or the confidence to seize them

The fact is the first options in some of the proposals are free, while the remaining can be purchased with a few bucks. The second options cannot; they’re priceless.

I didn’t learn a thing, but was reminded big time that talking during a workout is distracting and destructive. No pump, no burn, no rhythm or focus or engagement. No answers, no insight. The fulfillment thing sank with the last reps of the chatty sets. Rats!

Furthermore: How thankful I am that my mindless conversation with the medicine man was imaginary. Such a gross blunder is unacceptable and unforgivable... unbomberesque. Talking while training requires listening, hearing, thinking and possible contemplation, responding accurately and cleverly and with appropriate body language and emotion and emotional control. Exhausting!

My goofy make-believe repartee kept me company as I trekked everlasting highway construction en route to The Weight Room. Reality was about to hit me and I was unsure of my training scheme -- my energy, desire, needs, condition and other illusive determinates. I’ll know after engaging the flight of stairs from the parking lot to the rear entry. This accomplished I’ll press on to the corner bench, sit and assess the scene and the variables. Ahh, the oasis!

I get three good workouts a week. They’re economical, direct, focused, tough as rusty barbed wire and fun, if only I could walk and breathe freely. As it is I drag myself around, a workhorse draggin’ a wagon at the end of the day. Git along there! Heap together the dern heart, stenosis and malfunctioning calves and hamstrings and I fly like a flapless biplane in stormy weather. Mayday!

Be strong. A temporary inconvenience (euphemism for crappy struggle) I hope to resolve by summer’s end. Bomber engages Lamenectomy. No low blows!

I’m one who mixes and matches exercises so the bodyparts are totally and sufficiently worked twice a week. This is achievable and understandable if you choose the right mix of basic movements and practice them with full range of motion, awareness of action, association with connecting muscles and intuitive finesse. In other words, immersed in exercise performance, feel and understanding. Less thought, more feel and experienced action.

Here is what I did this day:

> Standing rope tucks. 4 sets x 30 reps. This exercise is a total upper body workout sufficient to keep me in the shape I’m in. Thirty reps are counted in groups of five or six and I alter my body positioning by urge and need and desire to access the entire upper body, including abdominals, obliques, intercostals, serratus, pecs, full back, triceps and biceps and delts. Legs get healthy action as full range of motion has me effortful in every direction. It’s my favorite movement as it takes me there. Has lots of stretching, contracting, extending, muscle co-operation and blending and volumes of blood flow, adding a hint of cardio. I’m warmed up in the first set, charged and RTG.

> Seated alternate dumbbell curls. 4 sets x 8-10 reps. I felt like doing arms and related muscles, which can include an abundant array of mutually agreeable tissues. Seated alternate dumbbell curls remind me of Leroy Colbert and the very good old days in Union City, N.J., where we bombed it in the tiny warehouse that was Weider Barbell Co. He’d go, I’d go. Can’t beat that at 19.

Done with finesse and desire and love and rhythm and total range of motion and you’ve got bells going off in the torso as it rocks, the grip and forearms and biceps as they roll and -- watching Leroy in a tanktop -- a bunch of interesting and inspiring stuff going on all over the place.

Single set or superset with the next movement:

> Machine dips. 4 sets x 10-15 reps. Perfectly accommodate the free-flowing DB alternates. I prefer the machine as it gives me super control and allows me to go places and engage muscles I could not otherwise approach. Sensitive body positioning, again, is the responsible tool. Lean forward, lean back, hunch back, arch back; think shoulders, think tris, think lower lat, think upper back, and go there... like sailing a boat, better yet, flying a plane.

> Bent-over cable crossovers. 5 sets x 12, 10, 8 rep-range. Here we have a very likeable and friendly exercise for anyone with limited dumbbell-fly ability due to injury or lack of capacity. Pecs, bis, all that torso stuff including supportive ab work. Love it. Haven’t done the exercise for a hundred years... don’t ask me why... usually do the crossover in a standing position. This I like mo beta.

Single set or superset with the next movement:

> Overhead close-grip pulldown. 5 sets x 8-10 reps. This provides a long body stretch (very healthy on regular basis), added biceps action, minor pecs, serratus, and did I mention the length of the lats and back density big time. Again, full range of motion from the extended extension to the tight contraction, back arched. Mix the groove of the move. Pull the handle to the chest as if you were hugging it, and to the nose as if you were kissing it.

Gee, another newsletter too long for anyone to read. I’m taking my wings, propeller and ailerons and going home. It’s late.

Bomber D

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