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8/24/2012 9:22:08 AM - Steve Pulcinella
Biceps injury and the Catabolic Avenger

I guess I have been slacking on posting logs lately, the last few weeks have been a blur for me. But I should have more time to write for a couple weeks because I did something really stupid yesterday. I had a couple incidents in the morning that A. threw me off of my normal training schedule. And B. pissed me the fuck off. Then I attempted to train while the gym was a little too crowded than I'm used to, with my mind totally discombobulated, and in a rush which caused me to rupture the living piss out of my left biceps muscle. The tendon didn't tear, it was just a real deep muscle strain which will take a few weeks to really heal. Of course then I was REALLY pissed and miserable for the rest of the day.

When I'm training in that frenzied state it also seems like everybody that is around me is somehow purposely finding ways to piss me off in their own way. I can hear one guy telling another guy some bullshit story about how strong he is, and I'm thinking the whole time, “Dude, you know your lying, why don't you just shut the fuck up?” Then next to me another idiot is trying to come off like he is a deadlift expert and was trying to teach a guy who is a much better deadlifter than him how to deadlift. I'm watching another guy leave a trail of loaded up barbells in his wake and try to leave the gym. Then the worst training cock block of all time comes in. We call him “The Catabolic Avenger”, he's called that because his mere presence robs you of your muscles, strength, stamina and energy. He will walk in every day and tell every person in the entire gym the same lame, boring details of everything that has happened since you saw him last, complete with camera phone pictures as visual aids. He knows better than to bother me and my guys while we are training but it's distracting as shit watching this rally killer systematically infest the gym like a cancer as people stand there politely and glassy eyed listening to his stories that sound like the ones your second grade son would tell you about his day in school while you eat dinner. I'm telling you, this guy will lay waist to muscle faster than a case of full blown aids.

So the combination of ALL those things forced me to lose focus, try to train under the influence of anger and my biceps exploded. And as we all know, my guns are my bread and butter, my livelihood, so I need this shit to go away asap so I can get back to a life of hugeness. Of course I used my typical injury protocol of throwing stuff around the room and then announcing that I'm throwing all the foam rollers in the trash if people keep leaving them laying all over the gym and then staying in my office the rest of the day. That protocal seems to work pretty well for me.

But as somebody recently told me, I'm like that 1958 Plymouth Fury in the Steven King classic 'Christine'. I just keep fixing myself and coming back for more!

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