Do you use an iPhone, an Android-based phone, or something else? If so, what are your reasons for picking one platform over another? Do you like the tight integration of hardware and software in IPhone land, or do you prefer the flexibility and themeability of Android? Are you diehard Apple fanboy/girl, or have you sold your soul to Google?

Or do you maybe still use a flip phone?

Sound off below on what you like, and why you like it. Peace out.

Folks, if you’ve seen one Liam Neeson movie you’ve seen them all. Seriously. They’re all Taken. If you remember that film, Neeson’s character, Brian Mills, had a particular set of skills. He will find you, and he will kill you.

We get it.

I mean going all the way back to one of his first big screen appearances in Excalibur, it’s clear Neeson was Taken With Arthur. In the Dead Pool, someone has Taken His Life. Darkman? They’ve Taken Mah Face. Rob Roy? Taken My Honor. Schindler’s List? He was Taken With the Jews. Stars Wars, Episode 1: the Phantom Menace? Taken By Maul. Non-Stop? Taken On A Plane.

I could go on, but as you can see: everything Neeson has done is Taken.

Your turn.

When I Saw Sonny

randomlychad  —  September 15, 2014 — Leave a comment

I don’t know Sonny. He doesn’t know me. Never met the man. But I was stunned by his example:

When I heard him say he was seventy years old, I was stunned! There I was, forty-five, tired, and like the eponymous “Al” of the old Paul Simon song, “soft in the middle.” I didn’t want to be soft in the middle anymore!

When I heard Sonny say that he started working out at the age of forty-four, I was stoked! It meant I could do it, too! That I wasn’t too old to get healthy, get ripped.

If Sonny can, so can I!

So can you, my friends. So can you! Take care of the temple the Lord has given you–you’ve only got the one.

What are you doing to get healthy?

Life, as they say, goes on. The show must go on. I get up everyday, by God’s grace, and carry on. But what happens when life doesn’t go on? For those three thousand souls, September 11th, 2001 was just another day.

Life was going on.

They arose, bathed, dressed, went off into the wide world on all manner of business. Trying to make it to the office, make flights, maybe make love to their spouses before heading out. Maybe working out before a busy day. None of them knowing that life would not be going on too much longer. Not one knew, as each readied for the day, that these moments would be the last with family. The last hugs and kisses. The last sound of children’s laughter (or sibling rivalry). So many lasts

I remember them today, those for whom life did not go on.

I also remember their friends, and family members, each of whom–in the wake of tragedy and loss–had to find a way to go. I remember the emergency service workers, rushing into to burning buildings while others rushed out. They made the ultimate sacrifice for those whom they did not know; it didn’t matter–life is what mattered. Saving as many human souls as possible is what mattered.

I remember us today: we, the living. I pray we remember what a precious gift life is, and how it can snatched away in but an instant. We never know when once we step out the door what a day will hold.

#NeverForget

Your friend Ricky Anderson calls the gym the “hurting place.” He’s not kidding! In the last week, you’ve:

Sprained your back

Sprained your foot (in the locker room. No, you don’t want to talk about it).

And you’ve  come down with the aptly (yet oh-so-understatedly) named “exertional headaches.” For the Star Wars fan, it feels like Alderaan exploding inside your head. Or maybe the Death Star. One of the two.

It hurts.

A lot.

The first time it happens, you’re like Is this an aneurysm? Am I having a stroke? Did Freddie Kruger somehow slip his gloved hand into the dura mater? Inside my skull? All you know is your world is pain. One thousand suns have gone super nova at the base of your skull…

You babble the Pater Noster, crawling into a dark and quiet place. The back of your head all the while hammering a staccato rhythm in time with the beating of your heart. It throbs, it pulses, it pounds.

You do all you can to just breathe. In, and out. In, and out. You’re calmer. You open your eyes.

That’s when you notice the halos. Everything–every bright thing–is ringed with a glowing halo. But the centers of those rings are mushy, indistinct.

Blurry. Yes, blurry. That’s the word you’re looking for. Even with your glasses on, the world is both bright, and blurry.

But you’re not dying. No grey matter has begun leaking from your ears (although you halfway wish some would–it would relieve the pressure). You want nothing but a bottle of Ibuprofen, and some rest (you settle for two pills, and let your wife drive the car).

The headache eventually subsides, leaving you with an aching, stiff neck. You read somewhere that rest is the only cure for exertional headaches.

So you take a day off.

One day off working out, and a day off of your supplements.

Then you’re up bright and early for your cardio… And you did it! No headache. This gives you hope for lifting day. You’re smart about it: you drink your protein shake, washing down two ibuprofen with it. You wait a bit, and then head out to the gym. Instead of pushing yourself, you opt for about seventy-five percent of the level you were at before. You take it nice and slow.

Your reps are slow–up, and down; up, and down. All the while you’re controlling your breathing. A headache threatens to come on. You breathe through it, gently working your neck. The pain subaides, and you continue your workout. You’re very conscious of:

Your form

Your breathing

Your blood pressure

You make it through! Congratulations!

You didn’t let the pain get you down.* Whether you worked out as hard as you wanted, or not–you did it.

You’re a champion in my book.

*Whatever pain, or hard thing, you’re facing friends: stare it down, master it. Push through to the other side. Whether it’s working out, writing, painting, cleaning house:

YOU CAN DO IT!

Master your gym today.