In Praise of the Underdog

We all love to see underdogs beat the odds and succeed. It’s why we love sports movies like Rocky, Rudy, and about a thousand others with nearly identical plots. Our hearts swell at the end of movies where the kids from the ghetto win the big math tournament and full scholarships to college, and we vote for the spunky youngsters with hard-luck stories trying to win American Idol or one of the dozen other TV talent shows. It’s inspiring to see somebody triumph over adversities and obstacles and beat the odds stacked against them. It makes us feel like we can achieve our dreams too. That’s why I was overjoyed to see pro bodybuilder Branch Warren win the Arnold Classic.

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Episode 49: ‘Fun days’ to fry a bodypart

A Bodybuilder Is Born: Generations

Episode 49: ‘Fun days’ to fry a bodypart

By Ron Harris

Being highly self-motivated, I train just as well on my own as with a partner. Actually, I do a lot better on my own than I do with a partner I don’t ‘click’ with. You’ve all heard the cliché about how you’re better off alone than you are in a bad relationship, right? As far as I’m concerned, that’s just as true in the gym. My workouts are extremely important to me, because each one is a one-time chance to improve my physique that will never come again. Because we are mortals and not like those pasty stylish vampires from the Twilight movies, we will have many workouts in our lives; but the unarguable fact remains that there is a finite amount of them. I don’t like to waste them.

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How Hard do You Need to Train?

I admit it, I was not in the best of moods; and I was letting something so silly as the weather piss me off. But hear me out, I had a legitimate beef with Mother Nature this time. It was late January, not even halfway through winter here in Massachusetts, and already we’d had three significant snowstorms. The total snowfall thus far in my neck of the woods had exceeded three feet, and the worst part was that due to exceptionally cold temperatures (I couldn’t even remember the last time before this winter I’d seen a negative sign in front of that number), nearly all of it was still on the ground.

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A Bodybuilder is Born – Ron Harris

‘Twas the day after Christmas, and all through the gym, nobody was feeling particularly trim. Even those ofus who live and breathe the fitness lifestyle have been known to fall off the wagon in that fattening month
we vaguely refer to as ‘The Holidays;’ a gluttonous orgy of all the wrong foods that begins on Thanksgivingand stretches to New Year’s Eve. Copious amounts of alcohol often figure into this extended period ofoverindulgence, which is why it’s not the least bit shocking that the average American adult will gain a poundof fat every year. Though it’s a far cry from the former widely reported figure of seven to ten pounds (thegood news), the bad news is that most people never lose that pound – meaning that each year more and morepermanent lardaccumulates.

A Bodybuilder is Born: Generations

Sometimes we know a relationship just isn’t working out anymore, yet we cling to it desperately like a koala to a eucalyptus tree. We can’t imagine letting go, and the very thought fills us with terror. But eventually things come to a head. Maybe one of the people in the relationship is abusive, an addict, mentally ill, a pathological liar – or maybe they just aren’t compatible anymore in some major area of your lives.

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A Bodybuilder is Born: Generations

Wah, wah, wah!

What’s that sound? No, it’s not Snooki from Jersey Shore – it’s something I call the wambulance. Whenever someone around me starts whining and bitching about something trivial, and it almost always is, I announce that someone needs to call the wambulance.

Human nature dictates that we all easily fall into patterns of complaining, feeling sorry for ourselves, and making excuses.

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Ron Harris – A Bodybuilder is Born

It was the day after my forty-first birthday, which had been remarkably unremarkable. Hitting forty last year was a big deal and had marked a milestone in my life. Luckily, I had gone through my mid-life crisis years before, the way some women start menopause early, so I wasn’t dealing with any major angst-ridden search for the meaning of my existence or questioning choices in my mate or career. And I already had a sports car and a wife who was nearly my age but looked much younger, so my birthday was really just another day. Though I did stop to ponder that in some Third World countries, forty-one was probably the average life expectancy. If you made it that far in those rough places, you were probably a great-grandfather too by that  advanced age.

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There is no “off-season”

I was in high spirits as summer vacation was in its final days and my kids would soon be back in school. Having put my son in day camp for most of the summer had saved me from hearing him moan about how bored he was, but my daughter was sixteen and at the peak of her need to be driven around all damn day and night. She had her learner’s permit but was still nowhere near getting her driver’s license. Knowing how weary I was of chauffeuring her bratty butt to her job, various friends’ homes and the mall, she dangled her ability to drive like a carrot before me in an attempted extortion plot to buy her a car.

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Episode 41: Take pride in what you’ve built

Ron Harris and Jay Cutler

By Ron Harris

The Internet haters were at it again. Actually, they seemed worse than ever and I chalked it up to the summer heat wave much of the USA was experiencing. When it’s 98 degrees and oppressively humid, they were all probably going through a gallon of Haterade a day. This provided them with all the carbs, electrolytes, and bitter, spiteful negativity a hard-working hater posting anonymously online craves.

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A Bodybuilder Is Born: Generations

Ron Harris

I had dropped off my sixteen-year-old princess (except in this case I am not the king, other than maybe King Midas), Marisa, at the 5 o’clock Zumba class at our gym. Marisa was just days away from her first of what would probably be at least three senior proms. She was nearing the end of her sophomore year. As I knew she was bound to do, Marisa had grown bored with weight training and was on a Zumba kick. As far as I could tell, it was basically a type of Brazilian dance form of cardio involving a lot of ass-shaking and hip-grinding. I had never watched an actual class, but many times I had watched the infomercial as I did my cardio, mainly for the visual stimulation of the suggestive movements.

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