Sandbag Day 2-13-06
As of today, I'm officially employed by Starbucks. My job there will rock. I don't know if any of you fellas share my love for coffee, but, if you don't, you need to stop by the Starbucks at Cahaba Heights in Birmingham, Alabama so I can change your perspective on some shit. Anyway, my first day barista training ran a bit late so I had exactly an hour and fifteen minutes to get big if I expected to get any grub before the cafeteria closed. I had a partner tonight, too, a guy from the weightroom who seems interested in my "Rocky" training style.
Stadium Stair Sprints (120 lbs)
I only did eight runs today before we had to move one, but I did a couple sets of two runs in a row without rest. Furthermore, I carried the bag both up and down the stairs so it ended up being even more grueling than the ten runs last week.
Manly Skipping, Hopping, Walking, etc. (120 lbs)
You know the drill. 60 yards on the toes. I mostly skipped and hopped. I walked when I had to.
Behind the Back Sandbag Throws (57 lbs)
Like heavy medicine ball throws but with my sandbag. These were glorious.
ATG Jumpsquats (102 lbs)
Three sets of three. I followed them up with one set of 21 reps at that weight. My legs and butt had more in them, but my shoulders couldn't keep the sandbag postitioned any longer. It kept shifting on me.
Those stair sprints ruin me every single time; they're miserable. I sit between runs feeling lightheaded and sick to my stomach, sucking wind. In the middle of my drills this evening, I found myself wondering, "Can I do this to myself week after week? Can I keep this up?" This is kind of shit someone starts, does for about a month, and then spends the rest of his lifting career telling his buddies about so that they know he's hardcore--kind of like squats. Well, I decided fuck that. I remember starting lifting and wondering, "How long can I keep this up?" I'm still keeping it up, though, and I'm getting better at it and stronger. I'm going to stick to this sandbag regimen; I'm going to keep making it harder and harder; and, in a couple months, I'm going to be fitter, nastier, and tougher than I've ever been. Then I'll find some new, horrendous brand of self punishment to test the resolve of that HULKAMANIA and start this cycle over again.
Besides, when it's all over and I've eaten a boatload of food and I'm sitting there reflecting on my day, I feel damn good--scratch that--I feel exultant.
Weight training is so beautiful. It's downright spiritual. I feel sorry for the guys around me who haven't caught on yet.