Imagine The Truth
Thomas Plummer: The Business of Training Video
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IronOnline has been going out weekly to subscribers since 1999 and is a most desirable means of connecting and communicating, informing and discovering. Laree and I have made many friends, share volumes of instruction and gain immeasurable insight from you, our readers. Together, we view the world and wonder where technology and intelligence will take us.
Hoping to better understand and serve you, Laree has recently installed Peek-a-Boo, an online HD digital viewing program in our newsletter mailing software. This feature enables us to determine the number of active newsletter recipients, their gender, age and general appearance. Privacy issues prevent a full and clear image from being transmitted, but we are able to determine vague characteristics.
Fascinating revelations: We have a record-breaking 113 lively subscribers (not including pets); there are twice as many men as women, or maybe it's the other way around, and nine out of ten members wear baggy sweats, tattered cutoff jeans, Speedos, unevenly hemmed kimonos, leopard skin tights with holes in the knees or shabby terrycloth robes, and more than one has a tattoo on the inner thigh.
Just kidding, bombers -- No tattoos on the inner thighs.
It's been a tough week. The dopiness above was an early attempt at being funny. I keyed it a week ahead of schedule, as I often do, to get a jump on my IOL material, and was about to revise, amend or toss it. But now, in review, I fear I might be onto something.
I watch daily full-spectrum news on TV and see the brazen characters portraying leadership in their acts full monty. I think I'm watching a cheap, poorly written and enacted political drama. Surely this is a farce, I say, or one of those really dumb reality shows or survivor weeklies. A president in rehearsal and all the seedy DC men and women, none of them quite believable, right out of the Screen Actors Guild pulling off amateurish schemes in broad daylight while the nation literally crashes and burns.
Dangerous, embarrassing, despicable.
Liberty and justice for all, they say with a wink, snicker and nod. "He did it; it was them, I know nothing, we'll get to the top of this, or is it the bottom... whatever. Trust me."
Where have all the good people gone, the strong, the courageous, the righteous, the patriotic and Godly? Oops! Did I say patriotic and Godly? There go my taxes; the IRS is knocking at my front door.
What's that buzz on my phone line, the glitch in my computer?
I shall go directly to the gym and do an extra set of curls and presses with extraordinary intensity to numb the pain, calm my heart, ease the frustration, sublimate my anger, eliminate the nausea, process fear and, incidentally, build some muscle and might. I knew there was a purpose for this annoying weightlifting obsession with which I am stricken.
Does this happen to you? You put on your favorite old, worn t-shirt in prep for your blasting session, and the once-snug garment hangs like a rag from your wilting shoulders and arms? What's that you say? Ah, it's still snug, extremely so, but around the vast waist only. Not good.
I have a solution you might consider. The spring has brought with it its very special hopes and dreams and bundles of vitality. I'm already working on my tan and have reinstalled my mid-60s visualizing and imagining processes while eating lunch on the deck.
Thank you, Dr. Maxwell Schmaltz. My mind clearly sees bulging bis and tris and chiseled deltoids sprawled across my body. Hit it! I see a rope-tuck and hanging leg-raise combo (3,4x25 reps) at the onset of my imagined workout -- perfect for warming up and setting the body in motion. Lots of muscle involved, healthy stretching and aerobic.
Ah, yes, I almost feel the standing barbell curls, lying triceps extensions followed by pulley pushdowns -- boom, boom, boom -- for four trisets carrying me forward like a bulldozer at a skyscraper construction site. Gee, sitting in the sun can be exhausting... Some seated one-arm lateral raises with a thoughtful thrust and tight contraction at the peak will blast the deltoids and continue the arm-torso accentuation. I'm ready.
Time to go. Oomph! Up and at 'em. Oomph!
I miss springing to my feet in the middle of spring.
Gear up and head to the gym, Bomber. We've got iron to move and ropes to tuck. I get tired of talking to myself... all this Schmaltzing in the sun... what day is it... my spring has sprung... wonder if I have time for a nap... I feel like a whooped dog... what kind of positive imagining is that... don't forget your wraps, water... oh, my aching back... ah, shut up!
Hey, Laree... I'll be back in a couple... need anything from the market?
God Bless America, land of the free... Dave
*****
Somewhere Over the Rainbow
Have you ever thought about opening you own gym business, either 10,000 square feet downtown or a personal training facility in your refurbished double-wide garage? You love the iron, muscle and might and know exactly how they work. You can do this, a dream come true.
Daydreams come and go like sets and reps. But if this one persists -- providing and teaching strength and health, here and now -- proceed smartly and surely. Or not at all. Your very next move (after your terrific workout, of course) should be to seek the advice and business know-how of Thomas Plummer and Associates.
Thom's my long-time bud.
Iron's not enough, folks; you need more than a bench, a cable and a personal trainer's certification. You need simple yet specific business know-how, marketplace awareness, people skills and sales savvy; this trick and that trick, these tips and those hints from the chief gym-maker himself, Thomas Plummer. He learned, discovered and invented this stuff while ironheads like me were doing curls and presses.
Final word of encouragement: Don't you dare open a gym biz without Thom standing by your side. That clank-clunk you hear is not the sound of dumbbells in action.
It's the doors closing.
New lecture video here:
Thomas Plummer: The Business of Training Video
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