DON'T TRAIN HIGH!

Years ago when I tore my left biceps, I was ordered an mri. I was bigger then and I knew it would be an issue. I actually told the fine lady at the dr's office to make sure to mention it when scheduling. A couple of places thought she was nuts, until she gave them my shoulder measurements. As it turned out, a lot could not fit me. So, they found the biggest machine in the state.

I was relieved to hear I was going in the biggest machine. That was until I got there. The receptionist said, "Wow, you are big. We just had someone get stuck in there last week." I sh!t you not, she said this. I have never been claustrophobic, but I was getting nervous, and for good reason evidently. The technicians said they could not get me in the machine without me having to put my good arm over my head. I felt like a bullet in a f@cking chamber.

They gave me headphones to listen to. It was playing the Eagle's. Not that I was ever a fan, but I friggin' hate them now. I can't even listen to them. The guy told me the time I'd be in, so I started counting songs. After ten songs I knew he was full of sh!t about the time he told me. He kept saying, "One more." After the third or fourth time of that, I told him get me out now! Once out, he professed how surprised he was that I made it that long.

I had an early morning appt and was supposed to go to work afterwards. One I changed, I literally had to sit in the waiting room for a good 20 minutes or so to collect myself. I even ended up calling out of work. I really was pretty traumatized.

So now we all know why I get anxious when I hear mri (and I'm sure I have told this story before, humor me, I'm old). So, my good dr prescribed me some ativan, even though we knew my head would not have to go in the machine. I'm pretty chemically sensitive, so I can pretty much tell when something kicks in. My wife noticed in the waiting room that I was getting pretty loopy. The fine tech ladies helped me through my x-ray and mri. I think they just wanted to hold on to my guns, who could blame them.

As my head inched closer to the dreaded tube, I kept my cool. If the position didn't hurt my knee so much I could have probably slept through the whole thing. So everyone cross your fingers for good results.

Anyway, the point behind this whole thing. Friday the boys came over to train as usual. I noticed each time i lowered and raised myself off of the bench using my suspended stretch strap, I felt less and less motivated. Seriously, it felt like the worst training ever. Then it dawned on me, I was still high from a few hours previously. Jessica always says I'm aloof, but come on. I can't even put that together until an hour into a miserable session.

Moral of the story, I can't train high.