Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Ass . . .
or something.
Anyway, as I was laying in my hot-as-all-hell nightly soak, trying not to sit up as to avoid further aggravating my fubar rib, I was thinking . . .
I'm gonna kick my ass when I get better.
I've got a tentative weight schedule going, and as we have a kick-ass gym at school (SAUM if anyone is in the Arkansan Void),
so getting to 'em won't be a problem.
But, my legs (which are getting all muscelly and hard thanks to an extended tour of physical therapy) think they'll be left out since I can't squat, leg press, that whole shebang. Nah, Farmer's Walk, and a host of other cable exercises, in ADDITION to my regular PT an stance training (BIG props to whomever posted about their stance training regimen!), they'll be getting nice and good again.
No bench for shoulders. Fine. Fubar that. Limited # of pushups, cable cross-overs, whatever doesn't make a *kunk* noise or cause aches will do. Plus, increased bagwork (three-five times a week minimum) will help their. My GF rather liked me having a chest that was "all hard and nice."
I figger, time to stop *****ing. I got time. After I get all put back together, a whole hell of a lot of core training'll help me remember to MOVE kicks coming at me. Blocks suck orangutan-ass.
Just some night-before-test nerves. Good night, You Pimps of the Intramunet, you Mac-Daddies of Sri Lanka!
Good Pimpin.
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