I spent most of yesterday on my knees (get your mind out of the gutter, it's not what you think).

I was upgrading the Danger Room. "What", you may ask," is the Danger Room?".

I'm not going to preach to 'ya. That 'aint what you come here for (Well ... maybe it is. Who knows) - so you're not going to get some "unholier than thou" deal, my rituals might not be yours. Since I established in the last articles that I must be a satanist (funny, they never mentioned the appearance of a little red card... but I digress). That must mean that I also participate in satanic rituals. I'm not going to lie - I'm not the biggest fan of group ritual. That's not to say that I don't occasionally need to indulge in more traditional activities. Just that, aside from special cases, I haven't found it to be particularly effective for me.

Yup. I'm a loner, a lone wolf ...(place the speech from "Pee Wee's Big Adventure" here).

So anyway, I have this really arrogant attitude that "if it 'aint building things up, then it's tearing them down", which is to say, if I'm not constantly learning and getting stronger I become a most unhappy camper - That's where the Danger Room comes in.

I have a number of personal ritual spaces that I use for various purposes, and perhaps I'll go into some of them in later articles, but today, I was on my knees in the danger room, with my tools in my hands (get back outta the damn gutter) putting together a new toy. I had with me the usual companions that are there when I build anything, Jerry was there making jokes in his ukranian accent, so was Harry with some new stories about his son, Roman came by to say "das ist goot", and Pete Dropped by to have a smoke and see how things were going.

They weren't really there, of course - they're actually hundreds of miles away and I haven't seen them in some time, but I worked with them for a number of years, and whenever I'm greasy, hot, and sweaty, trying to wrangle some wood into a piece of furniture, or put up shelves - I can feel them there. They're one of the hardest working groups of guys you'll ever find, and strong as bulls. Whenever things got annoying, Jerry was there to say "No Problem", or when I wasn't sure of the best way to do it he'd pipe up with a "this way is more safety".

What I was putting together was a smith machine. Those of you who love the iron know what I'm talking about, and are probably saying "those are joint killers, and they restrict your range of motion" - and you'd be right. I love my olympic bar, so I'm not going to say that smiths are the greatest things in the world - but it has a high-low cable, which is the main reason I got it.

I first caught the iron bug when I was 13. Suffice to say, I wasn't old enough to handle anything really big, and was not in the most encouraging environment ("you'll stunt your growth" - sound familiar? I was already around 6', so I wasn't that concerned), as a result, I lost interest and got involved with other sports (not team sports... remember?... "lone wolf".).

When I was around 22 I had access to a weight room and caught the bug again. There were machines aplenty, and some dumbbells, little did I know there were a few things missing (bars, squat racks, etc.), that were they there, would probably have kept me hooked. Soon I had a small apartment, and a different job. My money was going into keeping me living downtown, and eventually... another ritual space (not the subject of this article).

Years later, my metabolism finally settled down, I got regular access to quality foods, more living space, and I discovered that ectomorphic me was able to finally put on weight.

When I held an olympic bar in my hands it was love at first grip.

A few years and around 50 pounds later the Danger Room had taken shape. The space is constantly evolving, but the main focus is to shut out everything else, to create a space "outside of space" where there is only, sweat, power, and iron. The goals change over time, sometimes it's to increase the weight on a lift, sometimes it's to plow through an insane set of exercises, but the results are always the same - a stilling of counterproductive thoughts, a narrowing and intensifying of purpose. The chalice is a jug of water, the altar is a squat rack, the sword is an olympic bar. There is a systematic, ritual pace to things which is both challenging and comforting.

You can't fool iron. If you're in a bad mood, or feeling lazy - the iron doesn't care. Sometimes the weight almost seems to move itself, other times it takes every ounce of strength, but the plates don't actually get heavier - a 45lb plate will always be a 45lb plate. The challenge is to maintain a continuous, long-term, focus and intensity, regardless of anything else that's going on in your life. The iron doesn't lie, it doesn't expect, and it never goes easy on you. Arrogance is punished immediately and appropriately. Persistence, consistency and effort are rewarded. The Danger Room is a microcosm of the world that can be both reassuring and humbling, a place where you must know yourself to succeed, and push the limits of your abilities to get ahead.

OBLIGATORY WARNING: "The Danger Room" is a reference to a similar space in "The Uncanny X-Men" and is not meant to imply that it's cool to take risks when you work out. On heavy lifts - use a spotter, and ALWAYS put the collars on the bar. Play hard, but play safe -okay?

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