Chris Laver and the 30 Second Attention Span
Original Title: "Vanity or Health? The Inner Debate of an Unprofessional Body Builder"
Where exactly does the joy of body building come from?
I ask myself in part because working out has consumed a large chunk of my summer and because I am terribly bored most of the time and cannot muster up enough motivation to think of much else (at this point it occurs to me that I’m barely motivated enough to think of this how strange must you be to be reading it? But I digress…). Now here’s the story so far… After taking a years [ha-ae-das] (don't know propper spelling for the spanish word) I’m about 4 months into a new fitness program and am reaping the benefits hand over fist. I can unequivocally (I know you’re thinking, “word-of-the-day calendar” but c’mon people it does say “former GENIUS”) say that I’m the strongest and leanest and generally the sexiest (humble… I know) I’ve ever been in years (Man! I can barely read this blog myself! It is so bloody incoherent with all my little interjections. I should have some sort of prize give away for those who get through this post… though really it’s more like a post within a post.). Shit. I’ve completely lost what I was saying… Cutting to the chase, whereas I can appreciate the fact now that I fill out all my shirts wonderfully, and attractive young women have pointed out how good I’m looking (this being, of course, the original purpose to working out), I cannot ignore how friggin’ healthy I feel. I have damn near perfect blood pressure (116 over 80), my body fat percentage is an estimated 6 to 7 percent, and I can run 5km without stopping. So, as I feel compelled to push myself even harder I can’t help but wonder what really is pushing me on. Vanity or health? …
Okay, this post has officially been shanghai-ed. I was going to use this post to articulate the debate between what motivates me and it occurs to me at this point how pointless it really is. I had in my head this beautiful idea about the ethical ramifications of my decision to work out, and what have you, and actually reading along as I write I can’t help but feel completely diluted. I apologize sincerely for those who have read along. I really should give away those prizes. Maybe and iPod Shuffle or a years supply of raisin bran or something. I don’t know.
The real question: Why did I write this post? Maybe this was all really just an excuse for me to talk about my body again. Or, maybe I’m actually just killing time before I go running (this being the actual truth). You decide. In your answer include at least two sources outside of the primary reading.
Finally, in other news, I’ll be looking for my Canadian Practical Stylist with Readings to spare everyone from my horribly awkward disjointed writing.
Attempts made before “calendar” was spelt correctly: 5
“That’s all I’m about… MP3’s and crunk.” –Adam Cook
Where exactly does the joy of body building come from?
I ask myself in part because working out has consumed a large chunk of my summer and because I am terribly bored most of the time and cannot muster up enough motivation to think of much else (at this point it occurs to me that I’m barely motivated enough to think of this how strange must you be to be reading it? But I digress…). Now here’s the story so far… After taking a years [ha-ae-das] (don't know propper spelling for the spanish word) I’m about 4 months into a new fitness program and am reaping the benefits hand over fist. I can unequivocally (I know you’re thinking, “word-of-the-day calendar” but c’mon people it does say “former GENIUS”) say that I’m the strongest and leanest and generally the sexiest (humble… I know) I’ve ever been in years (Man! I can barely read this blog myself! It is so bloody incoherent with all my little interjections. I should have some sort of prize give away for those who get through this post… though really it’s more like a post within a post.). Shit. I’ve completely lost what I was saying… Cutting to the chase, whereas I can appreciate the fact now that I fill out all my shirts wonderfully, and attractive young women have pointed out how good I’m looking (this being, of course, the original purpose to working out), I cannot ignore how friggin’ healthy I feel. I have damn near perfect blood pressure (116 over 80), my body fat percentage is an estimated 6 to 7 percent, and I can run 5km without stopping. So, as I feel compelled to push myself even harder I can’t help but wonder what really is pushing me on. Vanity or health? …
Okay, this post has officially been shanghai-ed. I was going to use this post to articulate the debate between what motivates me and it occurs to me at this point how pointless it really is. I had in my head this beautiful idea about the ethical ramifications of my decision to work out, and what have you, and actually reading along as I write I can’t help but feel completely diluted. I apologize sincerely for those who have read along. I really should give away those prizes. Maybe and iPod Shuffle or a years supply of raisin bran or something. I don’t know.
The real question: Why did I write this post? Maybe this was all really just an excuse for me to talk about my body again. Or, maybe I’m actually just killing time before I go running (this being the actual truth). You decide. In your answer include at least two sources outside of the primary reading.
Finally, in other news, I’ll be looking for my Canadian Practical Stylist with Readings to spare everyone from my horribly awkward disjointed writing.
Attempts made before “calendar” was spelt correctly: 5
“That’s all I’m about… MP3’s and crunk.” –Adam Cook
posted by claver at 10:28 AM
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