When my father came home from South Korea in 1955, his form was buff. Running big equipment and rebuilding filled him out. He was a stocky man. Solid.

He went to the dr.'s for a blood test in order to get a marriage license. He rolled up his sleeve for the draw. The dr couldn't believe his eyes. "Good God Man! Is that an arm or a leg?" Family lore.

I have those arms. I also have big legs. I keep this in mind while working out at the gym. It's a balance to work everything without bulking into diesel.

One of last times I worked so hard on my fitnesss was when I dated a guy who was a quad. He was a handsome homie. He'd been a body builder and a high school football star. At 21 he went to So Cal to try modeling. During a pickup football game an underground sprinkler caught his toe. When he woke up he was a quadrapalegic. 

I was committed to this guy. Even tho he was a bit of an asshole at times. I figured I'd be bitter if I was in his position too. He was also a flirt. I tried to overlook it.

We were together a few months. There was some crappy shit and some good shit. We tried to work it out. One night we were at a party. He started with the crappy shit. A couple of hours into it and a few rounds of Jack Daniels later, he was a drooling mess. Slouched and leering at any girl who passed his chair.

I'd had it. I wheeled him out the door. Usually we did a bench slide into my car. The board was lost.  He started giving me crap. I leaned over and dead lifted all 200 pounds of him and set him on the seat like a baby.

He looked at me in disbelief. "Dude, You just rambo'd me into the car!"

"You bet your sweet ass I did."

I dropped him at home and he's only seen me from a distance ever since.

So yeah, this is some of what I think about at the gym.