Steroids, they’re what’s for dinner ... a couple of weeks ago the carpal tunnel in my left wrist and forearm was acting up. Over the course of a few days, it became more than annoying. Using a very tight wrap-around wrist band to lift (essentially a tourniquet), I felt no pain whatsoever while working out, but within an hour or two after lifting, the pain returned. Because I type for a living (word processing/not writing), there was no way I could let the pain continue. I’ve had this problem in the past and prescribed steroids have always been a quick cure.
Because I’m lifting in a meet the end of the month, taking steroids (for whatever reason) disqualifies me. The fact I lift in the RAW division makes it a double no-no (no benching shirts/no drugs). I’m still going to lift in the meet, but however I perform the results won’t count.
When I wrote my son Charles (not Charlie) to tell him about this stuff (taking prescribed steroids and lifting in a meet), he wrote back a one word email: “Asterisk!”
He’s a funny kid ...
And he’s right. The carpal tunnel pain disappeared within 3 days of taking the steroids (the prescription is a one week supply, decreasing each day). My appetite has become absurd (more absurd than normal and that’s pretty bad) and last night I lifted light but exceeded my program by a full paused repetition (which, using a one rep calculator, puts me a full 20 pounds better than where I should be). The only thing missing was “Roid Rage” but I came close to losing it on the #5 train the other night when some clown blocked the doors as the train pulled into my stop. I did say excuse me before nailing him with a shoulder.
Okay, so I whispered it.
The moral to this story? Anybody who tells you that steroids doesn’t affect them is full of shit.
To include: Mark McGwire, A-Fraud, Any Petite, Sammy Sosa, Barry Bonds, Roger Clemens and every other baseball player who’s taken them for whatever excuse.
And say what you want about Jose Canseco ... the guy was telling more truths than any of the heroes listed above.
Liebestod ... it is simply one of the most beautiful pieces of music ever and it belongs to one of the greatest operas ever. The “love-death” ending to Richard Wagner’s Tristan & Isolde. In the final scene of the final act, as Isolde stands over the body of her beloved Tristan, she delivers the most beautiful aria ... it begins with “Mild und Leise” (fair and gentle). Isolde is about to join Tristan in death, from where their love may continue unobstructed forever. The final notes to the aria return to the most magnificent of all preludes, comprised of the Tristan Chord; the prelude is arguably the most hauntingly beautiful piece of music ever written.
Liebestod and the opera it comes from have fascinated the ugly one for a dozen years now. I’ve seen Jane Eaglen sing this role half a dozen times (back when I could afford to go to the opera sometimes twice a week ... ah, those fantasy connected days ... sometimes I really do miss them). If this piece of music doesn’t move you, you need to check your pulse.
Check out the beautiful Swedish soprano, Brigit Nilsson, the definitive Isolde ...
And the DOC says ...
Hey Chaz,
Your first choice pick for the SuperBowl didn't pan out, but you absolutely, freaking nailed it with your alternate pick. Way to go Chaz... you da man!
Yeah, I wouldn't worry about the amicis suddenly thinking you're going "highbrow" on us. However, if you were totally freaking delusional, you might think that we were thinking that. Are the voices telling you this, Chaz?
That Brigit Nilsson looks like she has hit some nasty bumps in the road. I remember when she was married to Stallone. She had those legs that were like nine feet long. I remember her saying, "Sorry Doc, I can't go out with you this weekend. I have to shave my legs." I didn't watch the film clip because I didn't want people to think I was getting highbrow.
That steroid abuse is exactly what I needed for my tell-all book about you. I'd like this to hit the bookstores pretty quickly, so I think I'll need some professional writer input. I think I'm going to go with James Patterson because he can write a book in about a week. I go into some detail of your childhood as the son of poor, black sharecroppers in Alabama. Then, that fateful day at your Senior Prom when you catch your reflection in a mirror while dancing and realize there is no way in the world you could move like that and be anything but white. It's touching, you'll love it. If you have a chance, just jot down some actual facts of your life. I might throw some of them into the book.
Now, for the actual kick off of the biography, is there any way we can get you arrested? If I should anonymously report you to the International Musclehead Commission could we get some "perp walk" shots? The real challenge of this whole tell-all book deal is to get people to actually give a shit about what happens in weight lifting competitions. In reality, I think in the musclehead record books, people who don't use steroids are marked with an asterisk.
Hurry up with whatever you want to add to the story. I've already covered the styrofoam weights and the sweatsocks in the jockstrap. Patterson and his posse are up to Chapter 46 (they started yesterday).
So the Knuckster is juiced up. Next, people will start thinking I'm not a real doctor.
Your pal,
Doc
