I think I can

"I think I can," puffed the little locomotive, and put itself in front of the much larger and heavier train. As it went on, the little engine kept bravely puffing faster and faster, "I think I can, I think I can, I think I can."

It's that early childhood message that causes people to bite off more than they can chew. Of course we can do it -- so what if we're a wimpy, little, good for nothing train designed perfectly well for other tasks - we can do it, we can haul the heaviest thing you throw at us - all it it takes is the power of believing.

Sigh.

While I love for my clients to push themselves, I actually have a few clients who actually push too hard. It's a fine line between exertion and getting to the precipice of fainting into a pool of one's own sweat. One of the guys I train that does this reads the blog and I hesitated to write about it because I don't want to sacrifice the trainer confidentiality clause, but hey - it's all positive things I'm writing about.

Sort of.

Sometimes I think people try so hard because they think that if a trainer is asking them to do something - it must be possible. Even when the veins are popping out of their head, they're seeing double, and are falling in and out of consciousness - they keep going. If I say 10 reps - it must be possible, right?

The truth is that the first time(s) on any exercise is pretty much always a guessing game. Until I know my client's abilities I make guesses on what I think they ought to be able to do. Sometimes I overestimate. Actually I usually try to overestimate because I don't want the clients to think that I think they are a nelly weakling. Most of getting through an intense workout is mental (the rest is good hydration, plenty of sleep, and energy food). At any rate the first few times with a new client is when there are scary moments of near fainting, throwing up, or severe dizziness.

I had one guy who seemed like he could do anything. It was our first time so I just assumed he was a hardcore powerhouse. I kept him moving and lifting heavy weights. Next thing I know he's throwing up. That was the end of that workout. He never even hinted that he was having trouble, he just keeled over.

The "Little Engine" effect can have hugely positive results, or hugely negative ones if the engine overheats. I say haul a huge load but keep the chasis lubed and the engine tuned up. Fill up with lots of good fuel and suck in a lot of air. Now that's a lot of innuendo.

A Little Disorder For Everyone

I was never a huge fan of Bravo's fitness-based reality show Workout, but when it first began last year I was intrigued with the idea of seeing the inner workings of a gym exposed to the general public. The second season however really made me more annoyed than anything else by living up to its tagline: 3% body fat, 97% drama. It became less about fitness and training and more about the lame management skills and questionable ethics of a self-obsessed diva trainer and her sometimes "disobedient" trainer children.

However, I have to say that during a follow-up/reunion session on Bravo, the cast came together for an interesting reflection, albeit an equally irritating event to watch the awkwardness of a bitchy manager butting in to answer every question. The part that stuck with me the most was how they continued to bring up body dysmorphia, more commonly known as body dysmorphic disorder (BDD). In that moment, these trainers who I watched throughout the 2 seasons finally seemed human.

In a nutshell body dysmorophia is the unrational obsession with your own physical appearance. It's the "I'm so fat, I'm not good enough, if only I could fix this one thing . . . " dialog many of us carry on with our inner selves while looking in the mirror. Some people argue that BDD is not a "real" issue or a "real" condition. It is loosely grouped with Anorexia, but takes on a broader spectrum of behaviors, emotions, and manifestations. However, I actually think most people who work out have at least some form of this "more than an obsession" behavior.

Alright, maybe I think that because I don't want to feel alone.

There are days when I poke every inch of my body to see if I am still improving. I look in the mirror and try to see if I can still look good even without great lighting. I compare myself to guys at the gym and it usually frustrates or depresses me. I want this to be bigger, that to be more tan, and to grow taller by 2 inches. I look in the mirror and pull in my lower abs and think, "if only this," and that pattern repeats with every other square inch of my body's real estate. Like I said in a previous post, watching hot boys in Chelsea makes me want to spend an extra hour at the gym. And, sometimes, I do.

For the past 3 weeks I have worked harder than I usually do at the gym. This is coming from somebody who already never skips a day and keeps on a disciplined regime no matter what. I upped my protein shakes, upped my cardio, and upped the weights I'm pushing. My already skimpy diet has gotten streamlined and I am on a mission.

Maybe I'm not realistic - but chasing the goal does feel good. I am fairly certain I'm in the best shape of my life inside and out - but for some reason I have days when I feel like I am a slothful, chubby, squishy monster. I know that irritates people who know me and especially those that have seen me naked - but it it is what it is. Don't get me wrong, there are days when I am satisfied, sometimes even weeks. But one night of eating chips and salsa and I feel like I am ready to get into a pair of Husky jeans.

A little disorder never hurt anybody - ok well maybe some disorders hurt some people but who's keeping track? This one seems harmless, and although annoying for your friends - it keeps you in tip-top physical shape (so you're a little crazy). Sadly, like the trainers on Workout alluded, it seems to come with the training territory - all day long you are thinking about what you could (or should) be doing at the gym. The constant flow of active, muscle-bound, dark-haired, hot boys is a constant reminder to push and push and push - or in some cases I guess - a little pulling as well.

Nutrition Deficit Disorder

Your body is a temple, right? So if you have a temple do you cram it full of a bunch of funky stuff? Do you let it get run down, and trashy? I am fairly certain that King Tut did not fill his crib with Fritos and hollandaise sauce. Your body is something that deserves respect because in the end - it's just you and that bag of bones you've been carting around for years.

It always shocked me that people take better care of the interior of their car than the interior of their body. Then again, it shocks me even more that the neatest, most well put-together woman I know drives around in a new vehicle littered with countless Burger King cups, McDonald's bags, Wendy's burger wrappers, and empty cans of Coke. However, the point is - if we aren't looking at the problem it seems easier to ignore. Most of us don't have the medical equipment to poke around in our own bodies (notice I said medical equipment, not the toys you have hidden in your top drawer, perv). So to get a picture of what's going on, I like to try a fun little experiment with some of my clients is to have them keep a food diary. Essentially it is a log of what goes in the body on any given day.

I met this kid online and he has the general fitness goal of toning up his body. I can't assess much without having the person in front of me squatting, lunging, pushing, pulling, and bending over (hey - I have to have some fun). However, I can talk about nutrition relative to his goals. I am a firm believe that beginners (or people returning to "being fit") must start with the food intake aspect of the process first. Master the food part for at least two weeks before you hit the gym. You'll need those good habits to avoid falling off the horse and into a vat of Ben & Jerry's after a good workout.

You can do a lot for your body simply by eating better. I've written about this in other posts, but I thought I'd share the food report I received and parts of the resultant chat conversation that followed. As a disclaimer, he asked for the feedback - I would never, ever, judge somebody's food intake unsolicited. He is a cute guy, a nice guy - and we can learn a lot from this.

Here is the exact email that I received:
Here's a rundown for today:
Breakfast - nothing. ( I never eat breakfast)
Lunch - Tuna sandwich on wheat. Diet Coke.
Snack - small bag of fritos. Dinner - Chicken and Tortelini. Diet coke.
Snack - Ice cream sandwich.

Ok, first observations, anyone? Other than the fact that we need a lot more details, my reaction was this:
Oh man . . .
seriously, we have a problem.

I can't believe that he has read this blog and thought it was ok to skip breakfast, eat chips, have an ice cream sandwich, alfredo sauce, and mayo soaked tuna with the goal of toning up his body. I think people should eat whatever the hell they want - but if you have goals, you have boundaries, and that's just the sad fact, or what I like to call reality.

Problem 1: Never, ever, under any circumstances skip breakfast.

From our conversation:
Me: you need good food first thing when you wake up; such as egg whites, and whole wheat toast (one piece) or oatmeal (NOT INSTANT)
Him: I hate eggs and oatmeal
Me: ok ok a smoothie? a protein bar? whole grain cereal and skim milk?
Him: okay...

Now I wasn't suggesting that he go for a hardcore smoothie with flax seed oil and whey protein boosters, I just want him to get his metabolism moving and his blood sugar on cruise control.

Problem 2: Chips.

Sigh. I actually have a weakness for chips and salsa. It is the only things I cannot resist. If Tyra Banks was having a show on tortilla chip addicts I'd be on it. Knowing my weakness, I only do it once in a while - and for special circumstances, like when I go to dinner with my closest gal pal for the first time in a long while.

Problem 3: White sauces.

My reaction upon finding out that this "chicken and tortellini" wasn't grilled chicken tossed in a light olive oil sauce over whole wheat tortellini:
OH NO white sauce is bad bad bad (for real) it's butter and creamy . . it's fat city it's houston, texas alfredo is the absolute fattest sauce other than pure cheeese mixed with lard

An overreaction? I don't think so. It's bad news.

Problem 4: Pre-packaged foods that you can't customize.

You almost always have to customize your food in order to make it weight-loss friendly. Let's look at the tuna sandwich, that he got pre-made from a cafe where he works.

Me: tell me about the sandwich
Him: wheat bread... nothing on it.
Me: it wasn't tuna salad? no mayo?
Him: yes... It had mayo.
Me: that's something that's fat fat fat one more thing . . the bread wheat or whole wheat or you're not sure?
Him: hmm... I'm not sure.. but probably just wheat
Me: you have to demand whole wheat

See he picked up this sandwich already made so he was a victim of the conspiracy to make all Americans need healthcare due to poor diets and lack of nutritional awareness. He actually captured the main reason why so many people eat the "wrong" things:
Here's what I think I know its not good... But its easy.. I'm SOO busy... and all those foods are easy and quick.

So we know that we don't hook up with a guy who is easy and quick, (or maybe you prefer that, who knows) but we don't have the same standards for the food that goes in our body. Hmm. Interesting.

There are so many great options out there for quick/easy food on the go in every major city. The rural areas are a lot harder to navigate. Here in New York we have Healthy Living NYC which has a lot of restaurants that allow you to make good choices.

Worst case scenario, make due with what you have. For example, if I had to eat the options he did yesterday this is how it would go.
From our conversation:
Him: you wouldn't have [eaten] anything on that list, huh?
Me: um, i'd pick the grilled chicken out of the pasta and wipe the sauce off with a napkin . . . then eat it.

See, it's easy!

Training the Tipsy

I have had a client for the past two months that really never wanted training. He was, as he stated in several text messages, more interested in watching me in what he calls my "sexy shorts" than he is in working out. Throughout this whole ordeal I kept it all about business and I kept pushing him and ignoring him when he said, "ow", "enough", "zat's et" (he has an accent). I was convinced I could show him that he needed me if he ever wanted to work out in really meaningful and productive ways.

The sessions were tortuous for me. It wasn't the fact that I knew he was just going through the motions, it was the fact that I would be certain to get a text from him after the session something like this one that I got after a recent session: "Why u r so fcking cute?? Ajjj.." Granted, the boy says NOTHING of the sort during the workout, he simply complains about pretty much every single thing we do. Essentially he seems annoyed that we spend the hour working out.

All this sets the context for what happened during his last session. The original appointment was scheduled for Saturday afternoon, but he canceled and rescheduled it for Sunday instead. Fine, I had no pressing plans. I get to the gym and wait for him, and wait, and wait. I check my phone - he's running 10 minutes late - but he it has already been 15 minutes. By 4:30 (a half an hour after we were supposed to start) he strolls in wearing his popped collar, pink, perky, polo shirt. He apologized and told me that it was because - he just left brunch.

Brunch in the afternoon almost always means some booze-ination went down. "Brunch, eh? You're sure you're ready to work out already?" I asked. He smiled and said he was. Noticing that he was in a semi-daze, I asked him if he had anything to drink at brunch. "Yeah, mimosa, mimosa, mimosas!" he said, each word getting a little bit louder and more animated. "MimosaS?" I asked.

His brunch came with three free mimosas but since he was friends with the bartender he had two more. That's five in case you lost count. So not only did he take in about 140 calories for each mimosa (700 calories!), he was nearing, if not well beyond categorical drunkedness.

I already had to wait a half an hour for this guy, and he's usually a pain to work with so I had prepared the studio with a nice round of torture. I had begun planning this nonstop circuit of exercises as I waited impatiently for him. Now that he was finally at the gym, I was eager to get his tipsy ass in gear.

For a brief second I thought, maybe I should just send him home - it's probably not safe for him to work out. I guess my professional side kicked in - but then I kicked it right back away - he had already made me wait around for nearly 40 minutes before we got started and that is time for which I do not get paid. If people like Lindsay Lohan can sometimes operate motor vehicles under the influence of coke and sustain only minor injuries, this boy would be fine for a good ass-kicking using dumbells.

The session was a set of circuits that I had arranged in a semi-private studio. The lights were dim and the music was loud, I was having him work out in the best version of a bar I could create. I wanted his last session to be memorable and his being very tipsy inspired me to create an environment that suited the drunk theme - the club atmosphere made it that much more fun.

I was a little nervous when I had him going up and down on the step, he was very wobbly, and had a real tough time keeping up with my tempo. I kept telling him to move faster and he kept getting slower. He got dizzy during crunches and opted instead to just lay down and breathe for a minute. By the time he was doing push-ups on the Bosu ball he was pretty much a mess, but I have to say - he did survive it better than I expected. He only complained one time the entire hour - during a set of lateral shoulder raises with bodybars during which he uttered, "uhhh, uhhh" with every rep.

For the most part he was pretty silent and extremely sweaty. He was still in a daze but I think we successfully got all of the mimosa out of him. I was glad he managed to be quite active without throwing up, which, by the way, was my greatest concern. Once when he paused, put his hand to his mouth and looked down, I thought to myself, crap - who would have to clean that up? Me? No, no way, no how. Him? That'd be wierd. The housekeeping staff? No, they don't clean up things they can't potentially swipe. I decided that if his regurgitated force of nature were to come upon us, I'd send him home and I would close the door and sneak away quietly.

Luckily for everyone he never threw up - we headed up to the front of the gym to sign for the session and shared our last awkward moment of small talk - about how we avoided the stability ball (he was already unstable enough on his own today). I said, "yeah I crossed the balls off," referring to his chart. He laughed and said, "my balls off"? I laughed, closed the book and told him I had to get going. I was walking to the train when I got this text, "But at the end i cant suck ur balls off. . . and I am so sad for that . . ."

I don't get paid enough to do this job.

Seamen Everywhere

More than Christmas, Easter, Thanksgiving, and my birthday combined there is a special time of year that gets me excited. It's a time when the streets are filled with hot, freshly buzzed, cocky, drunk boys fresh from the sea - and here in New York we call this special holiday Fleet Week. It is a Navy event, but since I am not much into guys who wear all white - I love the week for the Marines who come out in full force as well.

Sigh.

I had been counting down the days to Fleet Week - each time I get off the train to go to work at the gym I see the MTA poster announcing it and it would give me a little pep in my step. Memories of seeing all the uniforms and wide-eyed, eager-to-please, tipsy boys on 14th street last year in Chelsea come rushing back. Marines in Chelsea - now that porn sort of writes itself and I am first in line to guest star in the opening scene.

Tonight I had a session at the gym with one of my regulars. He had some scheduling issues over the past few weeks and a vacation before that so we needed to re-vamp our momentum to get cookin' on his goal of a Memorial Day swimsuit debut. With only 5 days to work with I had to act fast. It was a great session -- he was a somewhat shaky, severely sweaty, and still smiling - just how I like my clients to be at the end of the session.

I ended up walking with my client because he lives on the way to the train I was taking to go workout. I bid him farewell with a cheerful, "Happy Fleet Week" and then hoped on the train. I hit up Better Burger for a bunless chicken burger. Sitting in the window looking at all of the relative cuteness, I almost decided to work out in gay mecca but my better judgment kicked in (who can concentrate on a good work out with hot boys in the room?) and I headed back up to the UWS.

A great workout - not too crowded, caught the Idol finale while warming up - and by the end my body was sufficiently beaten into a self-tortured pulp. I went to the locker room, saw the skeevy crowd (this location is notoriously un-cute at night), and opted out of the shower in order to escape an attack by a towel snatching senior citizen (I have seen this happen).

So, all of these decisions were out of the norm for me - switching two trains just to go work out, not showering after the workout, stopping by Chelsea just for some random protein. This, my friends, is how fate works. This night turned out to be timed perfectly.

I run down into the 79th street station and cannot believe my eyes.

Yes. Marines, a gaggle of them standing on the opposite platform. Ok, maybe not a gaggle but there were 8 of them and still - 8 is enough for me. Heck, I would have taken the one incredibly cute dark-haired one who was swaying back and forth in his drunken stupor. I devised a plan - separate him from the pack, attack while he's weak, nurse him back to health and keep him in my bed for a few hours.

I was a little disappointed in the guys however - as I often am when I see a random Marine walking around. I guess I'm into the idea, or the uniform - well definitely the haircut, but this group had just 1 cute one, and 2 so-so ones. That means there were 5 not so cute ones. They were soft around the middle - Marines are not supposed to be soft - they are supposed to be hard.

The sight of the guys really got my Fleet Week spirit pumping. I can't wait for more . . . here's to a great week with seamen all over the place.

Rubbin' One Out

To commemorate the end of a really long and laborious, yet mostly meaningless semester, I got my first massage. Yes, my first massage in 30 years. I was partially interested in the idea after reading about Cooper's massage at the end of his semester. However, mine wasn't nearly as exciting, but it sure did the trick.

It was at this place in Noho, a tiny little hole-in-the-wall, that still managed to not seem creepy. It is run by a group of Thai women who waste no time getting you onto the table from the second you walk in the door. There are no separate rooms, just a series of five low partitions and some bamboo blinds. The lights were low, faint music was playing, and there was a faint smell of incense burning.

Since I had never done this before, I had gotten some advice and or "warnings" about what to expect. There I was standing next to the table. Nobody said, take off your clothes. I had this quick fear that I would get naked and then she'd come back with some paperwork for me to fill out or something. I am more used to people taking off my clothes for me in a fit of passion - but for this occasion I decided that I didn't need somebody to pull my pants down and I proceeded.

I got to the underwear, leave them on, take them off? I didn't know what to do. Given the fact that there was a wide open view and the potential for people to see how amazing these underwear look, I decided to keep them on. These are the absolute best pair of underwear I own. They were a brand new pair of Diesel briefs and on the back they say "Only the brave." Haha, perfect!

I am laying on my stomach, ass in the air. A woman comes in and starts right away with some long sweeping motions. I don't know why, but I was really nervous about this. I had no idea of what she intended to do. In no time, I relented and just laid limp letting her move me around as needed.

The woman pushed and dug into me real hard. Since I have been working out pretty intensely lately my body was screaming. Massage really is something people who lift weights are supposed to do - it's a part of the whole package. When we work out and put tiny tears into our muscle tissue, it doesn't repair smoothly. In order to get the best results you have to rub it out. My new woman friend had found two wicked knots in my back and she was not leaving until they were gone. At one point I thought I was going to pass out.

But I liked it.

Once she moved on from my upper back I sighed with relief. She moved some towels around and the yanked my underwear down. Ooooh. She tucked a towel into the top of my underwear and the whole time I was hoping, "did she leave it so the cute waistband was still showing?" She climbed up on to the table and straddled me more than once. But the last time she did it she was squeezing her thighs into me and pushing down into my ass. Sheesh. I hate to say it but that was really, really exciting. It's not fair that she was pressing me into the table like that. My mind started to wander. I mean, I am only human. I don't even like girls - but when somebody is straddling you - and you're face down - it's easy to pretend that it's anybody you want it to be - even Ryan Phillipe.

So I kept trying to focus on other things. I developed an emergency plan in case she asked me to roll over at that moment. I decided that I would pretend to fall to the floor - and the commotion that would ensue would certainly relieve any excitement. Thankfully, she had more work to do with my hamstrings, and calves.

Once I relaxed into the idea of a woman rubbing me with oil all over my body I started thinking that I wanted to suggest parts on which to focus. However, not a single word was spoken between the two of us the entire hour. But, based on what she did to my back side I was really revved up for a nice rub down of my chest, biceps, quads, and feet. Sigh. She flipped me over, rubbed my head (which was real nice) and then moved down to my feet. What? She skipped my chest? My aching, sore, needing-a-rub chest!? I wanted it badly but the magic she did with my feet made it all ok.

I have been known to say that I would rather have a foot rub than anything else. That includes any sort of sordid lovemaking or variation therein. The key to my hotspot is in a good footrub. I was in pure heaven. She was squeezing and rubbing and bending each one with sheer perfection. I was really in a state of euphoria. Then, she tapped the top of my feet, murmurred something and walked away.

We're done?! Just like that? It's over? I opened my eyes and saw the clock. It had been just over an hour since I arrived. Crap. That was fast. Now I know how straight women feel when a guy is making them feel really good and then they just up and leave and/or roll over and fall asleep. I remained on the table for a good minute just being still before I got dressed and paid the woman 50 bucks. Yes, people, 42 bucks for an hour massage - in New York.

I kept thinking that she should be making more money for all this work. People pay double for training, and what she is doing feels a whole hell of a lot better.

Like I said before, everybody needs to be aware of what the muscle tissue in their body is doing. Granted, you don't have to get a massage to do this. There are so many ways to self-massage, and g-rated uses of the sauna, steamroom to help in the effort. What I use, and what I encourage my clients to use is something called Self-Myofascial Release (SMR). The word "release" in the context of massage is usually something more thrilling - in this case I'm talking about using a foam roller.

You've probably seen these at the gym and wondered what they are for. It's worth asking a trainer to show you how to use them. If they don't know how to use them, or don't think they are an important and valuable part of fitness - they shouldn't be working and you should run away screaming. In a nutshell, these foam rollers provide a deep-tissue massage - for free! They help work on muscle tension relationships (when your posture is messed up - even in ways you don't at first realize), and on general tightness in muscles. It is a great way to warm up for a workout.

On days you run, you want to SMR your calves and hamstrings. When you're doing squats you want to SMR your legs and your lower back. When you want to feel really great and do better crunches so you can have hotter abs - you SMR your upper and lower back - it is pure pleasure. It is best to show you how to do this in real life - so New Yorkers let me know and I'll hook you up - but essentially you apply your own body weight into the roll and you, well, you roll.

You can read more about it here or you can go ahead and buy one here. This document is a hugely comprehensive guide to how to use it once you get it. It's the kind of toy that will make you feel good - just like that one hiding under your bed you sicko perv.

Supplementing Your Supple Body's Needs

It was entirely coincidental that David commented on my last post that he was curious about my take on supplements. Earlier in the day I was thinking about posting my recipe for the tasty smoothie I was about to enjoy, and it contains supplemental protein powder. That's about as far as I get these days in terms of supplementation. Essentially, I'm a purist who dabbles in a bit of extra protein now and then.

I am very likely in the minority on this topic as most gym-bound guys are as much into lifting pills, powders, and protein drinks as they are into weights. It's true that there are a lot of good supplements out there but it's also true that "real food" can provide a lot of, if not all, that you need to build muscle and increase energy. The thing a lot of people forget is that supplements are meant to be "supplemental" and not the main part of a diet.

I stopped using energy inducing supplements because I got on the Ripped Fuel band wagon before they went ephedra-free. This was when I first started the Body for Life plan (which, by the way - totally changed my life forever). I was enamored with the packaging, who doesn't want to be ripped?! Leaner, meaner, stronger, faster, better. Who could say no to that!? I loved the rush they gave me - it was like a really hardcore venti quad Americano from Starbucks times ten for me. However, if I took them at any time other than before an intense workout I was a crazy, irritable maniac on speed.

Recently I tried the nitric oxide inducers (like NO-Xplode, NO-S Extreme Lean, etc.) but I found it led to little to no improvements in my performance. If you have a strong cardio plan - your L-arganine recruitment is probably at optimum levels so these things really just provide excess that is wasted. I like just having a good bout of caffeine or sugar-free Red Bull before a long workout, and LOTS of water.

I never got into Creatine because if you're not working seriously to BUILD larger muscles it can easily become a huge cess pool of fatty mass of yuck. I just never had that as a goal for myself or for the guys with whom I want to make out. For me, and the boys I like - it's lean, mean, figthin' machines with good chests, nice arms, hot calves, and a taut, hot ass. Veins that show just a little bit, and tattoos, well then you got me wickedly excited.

That all being said, I am a huge fan of protein powders - they are a convenient source for supplementing your daily diet with some extra needed protein, and other essential nutrients and BCAA (amino acid packs of fun). The powders are quick, easy, and there is enough competition out there that the taste keeps on improving. I was a Myoplex boy for a long time, getting hooked on it through Body for Life, but then I got turned on to Isopure because it's carb-free, more pure (literally), and packs in a little more protein. Yum. However for all you New Yorkers, Juice Generation offers up a Shazaam! for a hefty $7.55 that includes a Myoplex packet, rasperries, and water. You can switch it up to use blueberries too but I don't like how that one tastes.

Yeah, Myoplex has some carbs and a few grams of fat - but the nutrients it provides allow it to serve as a healthy meal replacement. I'm into that because I like efficiency. Then again, when I first felt like I was getting into great shape - I was eating six chicken breast a day. If you're that desperate for optimum proteins, egg whites are the very top of the list.

All in all - supplementation is something worth investigating (that link is a comprehensive site that provides information and reviews on nearly all supplements). Furthermore, I strongly urge people to educate themselves about what goes into their body. Google is your friend, so use it like you bastards use all of your friends. Haha, ok that was a bad joke - but for some of you it's probably true. If you're a serious hardcore bodybuilder you're probably going to have to look into supplements but there are better options out there and always, always, start gradually. When in doubt, don't put it in your mouth guys. And that, my friends, is an important safety message that you should carry with you to the bars, and your bedrooms.

My Smoothie of the Moment: The Razz-PiZazz-a-Berry Banger

• Get a sturdy blender.
• Add 8 oz. of lite orange juice (with added calcium too)
• Add a handfull of frozen or fresh raspberries (I like frozen because it makes the drink frosty)
• Add 4-5 frozen or fresh strawberries
• Mix in 1.5 scoops of whey protein powder (I use EAS Vanilla Whey - with BCAA enhancement)
• Add 3-4 icecubes.
• Hit the liquefy button and watch the magic happen.

Once it is swirling down like a flushed toilet, it's ready to drink. In all liklihood it is going to grow into a creamy delight. It has around 300 calories so be prepared to work some of that off right away. This is a pre-workout smoothie. It has about 35 grams of protein and it seriously tastes amazing. Raspberries are a superfood so eat them with delight. You can use regular whey protein, but the Vanilla flavor gives this drink a "creamsicle" effect. Enjoy!