It’s not often that I have to search my will for the drive to workout. Today is one of them. The last thing I wanted to do this morning upon awakening was to exert myself….strenuously. I missed training on Tuesday and Wednesday, thoroughly due to my lack of planning and discipline. If I missed today, I knew I’d feel like a total slug.


33 dead lifts and 48 pull ups later I’m thinking: “this is a hell of a rude way to wake up!” Is it more masochistic to be down here doing this? Or is is more masochistic to blow it off? And deal with feeling like emotional crap for the next 24 hours until I get a chance to redeem myself? I see the effects of lifetimes of inactivity on people 20 years both my junior and senior. The payoff for continuous movement grows with the passing years. I realize that the cumulative effects of a sedentary lifestyle grow almost geometrically with age. This is particularly evident in comparisons between typical people and lifetime athletes in their 60’s, 70’s, and 80’s. I use the word “typical” purposely. While it may be typical to be sedentary, it is not normal, or healthy. Ralph, my 80-something early morning friend, sometimes runs with me for a couple of miles… the hills… my pace. He took up cardiovascular training in his early 40’s and has been at it ever since.


In recent years, the medical research community has been getting more vocal about the need for exercise. The current thinking is that not exercising is second only to smoking in a ranking of the worst things you can do for your health.


Ok….so pushing weight in the pre-dawn is not masochistic, but bend over barbell rows supersetted with bent over dumbbell flies are. I’m standing by that assessment. By the end of 5 sets, my rear delts are catatonic.


So the moral for the morning? There has to be one. Despite burning eyes, mild headache, and feeling generally like a rag, I managed 20,845 pounds in my full body compound dumbbell routine today, vice 19,330 on Monday. Despite that every rep, every set, and every exercise movement felt harder, I squeezed out more volume for each movement.


Never were truer words: “Just do it.”