Have you ever noticed how much this stupid “hobby” progresses exactly like a drug addiction. Starts off innocent enough, in a friends basement trying out his brother dumbells getting some curls in, maybe some shoulder presses a little bench press, you know just enough to catch a sweet little pump make everyone think your cool and a with it guy. This once a week thing moves on to a 3 day a week habit, M W F ,2 bench days and entire day for arms, a little more serious but you don’t even think you have a problem yet. This non sport specific training is just to help me relax, keep on top of things. Then a little internet research and exploring leads to some harder stuff a little more intense than your regular curl routine. Why aren’t these curls working anymore? Do I need a bigger dose? Who has something better. Awww yea that Rippetoe has just what you have been looking for, add milk to your squatz to really trip nuts. Pushing off with this feels wonderful, euphoria, the reason why you started, awww yea that sweet release to the next level. Untill casually plowing along with linear gains to a 325lb squat , 385lb deadlift, 225 (for 3 BP) and 135 (1rm) OHP leave you wanting more and feeling unsatisfied. That high just isn’t there anymore, I need to score something really heavy, leaving me gaining for days. Wim Jendler is slanging that 5/3/1 method but you question if your that hardcore. Am I ready I really a powerlifter (addict)?, do I need to move onto a periodization method (main line), what even constitutes a beginner any more? Can I really live NOV? The first time you bring an excel spreadsheet and calculator to the gym it’s over. You started the spiral downward towards rock bottom. This neck beard will hide my track marks, whats 95% of 90% of my max on an 80% day? Pantera, Paul Carter and Protein are all you need. Working out used to be a group thing, now there is only enough for you alone to get high. Where can I order some bands for reverse banded board presses with chains? Then it happens, a catastrophic miscalculation on your dose, using your 3RM numbers for a 5rm day. Eyes cant stay open… crushing weight of the world, destroyed rotator cuffs… darkness. And then, an awakening, you have now entered rehab. You realize you’re a fat fucking loser who never achieved a 2x BW bench but instead achieved a 2x BW before all of this started. Rehab has you focused on something else, shedding that weight, learning purposeful movements, organic motions. But you tell yourself, Im not going back the road I came on, this time its going to be different, this time I will make sure to never get hooked on this junk again. Everything is bright and sunny, trying arm crossed front squats, pull ups, RDLS with submax weights to really feel that stretch, snatch grip deadlifts. All these feel good moments are hiding the darkness creeping back up inside of you. Who were you trying to kid, once an addict always an addict. The worst decision you have ever made in your life came from trying to achieve ideal front rack position. KSTAR, the supple leopard, Kelly FUCKING Starrett. He not only opens your eyes, but opens your mind. Let him French kiss a mouthful of mobility pills into your mouth. He makes you a fiend without you even realizing it. His scientific explanations of torque, and loading, and your shitty body potions tantalize you into the gayest positions. Next thing you know someone catches you rolling your lats with lacrosse balls while you have a voodoo floss band wrapped around your neck furiously stroking your limp dick. All the grass fed beef in the world isn’t going to make that thing work. Finally you realize you’re a pathetic lump of mediocrity, good at nothing and average at everything. The scourge of the world, a try hard suck ass. There is no place for you here, but you cannot exist without mobilizations and attaining pathetic PRs on your hang snatch. Who gives a fuck, kill yourself.