Controlled Rgae - “The animal intensity to do what ever is necessary to get the job done on any given training day, that is what controlled rage is all about!”
People stare at me. In the mall, at the bank, when I go shopping in the supermarket. I hear the comments, “Look at him…” or “Yeah he’s gross…” or “I don’t like that...” Do I belong in a cage, a freak on display? What, just because I train hard and eat well? Sure I get respect in the gym where I bust my ass and at the bodybuilding shows when I win the overall title. But in the “regular” world, I get stared at, talked about, and looked down upon. What the fuck is up with that?
Bring out your inner Animal. Don’t be afraid to. But you must know the right time to do it. No, it’s not during my one hour commute to work, when there is a road closure up on the expressway. No, it’s not when my boss gets shit from his boss and takes it out on me. No, it’s not when I have an argument with my girlfriend and she keeps on arguing over the same shit a week later. No, these are all bad times to bring out my inner Animal.
I bring it out--I unleash it--on Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays, when I blast the heavy weights. Yeah, after my warm ups on deadllifts, the bar is loaded with close to 600 pounds and I have to pull the bitch off the ground… Up to, and above my knees… Lower it… And do it again three times. That’s when the Animal is let loose. While I train hard and heavy, I use what I call “controlled rage”. Yes, controlled… Channeled.
I think about the bullshit that I cannot “control”--the traffic accident, my boss yelling and screaming like a little bitch because his ass got ripped into, the stupid bickering with my girl… Then, when my hands are chalked, my belt is pulled that extra notch so it is skin-tight, my shins are scraped from my previous sets and my last set is down on the floor in front of me, the bar and weights scream, “You can’t beat me, I will beat you.” It is on that certain back day, that bar was yanked four times from the ground with ripped up hands and bloody calluses.
We have to use that “controlled rage” to our advantage. Sure, we all want to throw that person through a wall at our jobs who says to us every day, ”What’s for lunch today, boring old chicken and rice?” Those same overweight, blubber legs, fat ass is fighting for the last piece of chocolate cake. Oh sure, they will have a diet soda with it. How about the famous Friday phrase, “You can miss one workout… You won’t shrink. Go to happy hour with us and have some fun.” Really, I want to say, “Listen, Mr. Let’s-go-party-it up-dude, you look like you were put together in the dark.
Happy hour for me is a solid 60 minutes in the gym. You should go and work on those computer mouse cord arms your sporting. But no, my Animal stays inside and behaves, and I just smile and give them a quick head nod and reply with, “Yeah, OK.” And than a get a little grin on my face knowing that today is Friday and when I am buried with enough weight that could crush me, knees shaking in the squat rack, my Animal will appear once again.
Tags: Bodybuilding Life
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