Hark ye, hark ye, members of Swole Acceptance! It is I, icecity inviting members of our swoly subreddit to join our associated discord in our 2nd major lifting party! Please allow me to refrain from the swoly language of Brodin, and explain further in the common tongue:
The Swole Acceptance Discord just ran our first lifting party successfully: Smolov Jr. for Bench Press. It went great, and we're ready to host a full fledged lifting party. We have a new program designed by myself and one of the other discord mods (looking at you /u/Biscuit-Henry )that runs 12 weeks of a high volume hypertrophy program. Having both run it, we can say its a fun workout that is a change for those who primarily run low rep, high weight programs like 5/3/1, build the monolith, etc.
Edit: The first heat participants have just started, however we will still be accepting newcomers to the server as well as the party.
May your chicken be seasoned and your preworkouts mixed. Wheymen.
Invite code here: https://discord.gg/pvsMBvn
Brothers and sisters, no doubt you have seen bros committing the sin of performing curls in the holy rack of squats. Today I witnessed what I believe to be a greater sin: dumbbell lat raises upon the platform of necromancy.
Brothers and sisters, I have seeketh thee today to talk about an epiphany that hath struck me. I shall be first to admit, I strayed from the path of Brodin, blessed be his name. Since birth Broki has infiltrated mine flesh, turned that which is most divine, mine muscles, into foul, weak and pathetic pieces of meat. But alas, Broki was not done there, but infiltrated mine tendons and made them short as well.
Brodin in his everlasting and endless benevolence allowed mine humble self to lead what is a relatively normal life despite this, for he stopped Brokis curse from progressing in affecting mine muscles. Yet I, hapless wretch that I am, allowed mineself to listen to brokis tongues because of this and became complacent. A most unfortunate peril befell me, resulting in a stay in a house of healing and a temporary ban of the temple. I now reside in another house of healing, for what the servants of Brodin calleth sports rehabilitation. There I hath answered mine daily prayers and slowly returneth to Brodin who not once showeth any sadness for mine leaving, only happiness for mine return. In these halls, not only the training of the flesh is offered, but also the training of the spirit, for meditation shall alleviate both issues of the flesh and mind. And it struck me like lightning strikes the olymp: Brodin dost not only want a strong flesh, but a strong spirit and soul as well, methinks. Alas I shall participate in this training of the soul and I shall increase mine efforts of training mine brain twofold and mine flesh threefold!
This way of thinking hath hitherto not crossed mine mind. Thus, mine brothers and sisters, I say : Venture forth into the great unknown! Pray thine prayers and lift the equivalent of a thousand suns! Yet do not ignore the needs of thine soul or the condition of thine head, lest though becometh a disgrace for Brodin. Wheymen brothers and sisters, wheymen.
Swolemen and swole maidens of Brodin, I was blessed by a brother who too walks in the footsteps of Brodin. Upon preparing to perform prayers I have never done with 45 plates, the decline bench, I was concerned. I sought another who was resting between prayers and pleaded for assistance. I approached a swoldier who I saw perform prayers of magnitude and intensity I can only dreamed of and he was more than happy to assist me with my prayers, his name was Kevin. Kevin pushed me and I was able to lift more than I ever have in thy prayers, encouraged me with words of a foreign tongue, allowing me to max out. He said “that was all you bro, I didn’t even touch the bar.” And I felt Brodins blessing.
Thanks to saints of Brodin such as Jeff Cavalier encouraging me to seek the all spotter I was able to pray today like I’ve never done before. I lifted and was up lifted, WHEYMEN.
F'rgive me if 't be true i doth not speaketh prop'r swolanguage. I cometh with a heavy heart. The doubleth standard yond cometh with being swole is saddening. Mine own cow'rk'rs who is't doth not followeth the path of swole but instead followeth the path of sweets art nev'r criticiz'd f'r for their rotundos physique while wearing “tight” apparel, But alloweth me weareth a fitt'd shirt and ohhhhh noooo...”hey where’d you get that shirt? Baby gap? Hey my little brother can give you his shirts when he grows out of them, can you breathe in that shirt? Does that shirt come in men’s?” And so on and so forth. I quietly and int'rnally cry drops of sorrow of whey and that sorrow and anger fuel my prayers. Thanketh thee broth'rs i just did want somewh're to vent
Harken, and hear my tale of great woe!
Today I went to worship in the Iron Temple. Already as I began upon my path to the place of worship did Broki send ill omens and small misfortunes. I slipped ascending a flight of stairs, straining a muscle in my abdomen and slamming my knee and shin against a hard stone step. But I am a swolemaiden of Brodin and this did not deter me!
I began my worship at the holy bar of pull-ups. While Brodin has blessed me with many gains since I began to worship him, and my legs strike fear in the hearts of Broki's minions, my arms and back must still be brought closer to the swoley glory of the All-Spotter. I began to perform my obeisance with the prayer of chin-up negatives.
Lo did Brodin bless me, for my first set was richer in reps than when last I worshipped, and lo, my reps were slower and more controlled! But I rejoiced too soon. As I performed my second set, Broki's curse befell me. The muscle I had lightly strained in my fall upon the stone stair was filled with sudden pain! In my hubris I continued, and finished a third set. By then, I knew that I had let myself fall into Broki's grasp. The spot just below my right ribcage a few centimeters from my sternum ached mightily. Though I was able to continue my prayers of deadlift with only minor discomfort, the pain only increased, and was exacerbated all the more by rows and most prayers of both pulling and pushing. I could not begin my bench press, for even attempting to unrack the swoley bar brought pain below my ribcage!
Disheartened, I apologised to Brodin for my pride and weakness and took my leave of the temple before Broki could you wreak more havoc.
I am to attend a workshop this Saturday where a mighty Swolemaiden and high priestess of Brodin shall instruct me and several others upon the ways of the Bench Press. It would be grievous indeed should I prove unable to raise iron for the glory of Brodin upon that day! How shall I best tend to my injury (aside from avoiding more active forms of worship on the morrow) and insure that Broki does not again curse me in the same manner?
Brothers, I am a recent convert to the way of Brodin and the Iron Altar. Having spent my life under Broki's sway, indulging in feasts, wine and smoke. At mine current age of 27 years, I have decided to devote myself to Brodin's teachings, shed the fat of excess, and have begun thrice-weekly ministrations at my local temple. For the wellbeing of my mind, body and soul.
After the ecstasy my prayers, typically two to three hours after a session, a crippling nausea washes over me. My stomach churns and roils, occasionally ending with me hunched over the porcelain vessel, cursing Broki's name. Sometimes this nausea extends well into the next day, and is beginning to make me dread my visits to the temple.
I do not wish to cease my prayers, but what is a brother to do about this foul plague?
Any wisdom you could impart would be held closely to my heart.