Wachstum des Muskels
Wenn Sie den Muskel beim Training beanspruchen, setzen Sie anfangs nur einen kleinen Teil der Muskelfasern ein. Sie beanspruchen nur die Fasern, die Sie auch brauchen, um das Gewicht zu bewältigen. Wenn Sie die Intensität des Trainings und das Gewicht der Hantel langsam steigern, paßt sich der Muskel an, indem er immer mehr Muskelfasern kontrahiert, um die gewünschte Leistung zu ermögli:hen. Darüber hinaus vergrößern sich die Muskelfasern, die Bindegewebshülle wird widerstandsfähiger und der Körper bildet neue Kapillargefässe, um mehr Blut zu dem beanspruchten Muskel bringen zu können. Nicht zu vergleiche, mit erweiterten Kapilargegässe.
Die entstehen durch Alkohol Konsum.
Ausserdem steuern die Sexualhormone des Mannes sein Muskelwachstum. Da diese Hormone dem weiblichen Körper fehlen, braucht die Frau keine Angst vor einer starken Ausbildung ihrer Muskulatur zu haben. Das Fehlen dieser Hormone bringt noch einen schnelleren Trainingserfolg bei den Damen. Da sich ihre Muskulatur nicht aufbaut, verspüren sie schon nach wenigen Wochen eine merkliche Reduzierung des Fettgewebes und eine deutliche Straffung der gesamten Körpermuskulatur.
Auch spielt die Ernährung für den Trainingserfolg eine grosse Rolle, doch werden Sie Ihre Muskeln allein durch regelmäßiges Training entsprechend ausbilden. Deshalb habe ich, für meine Events,einen extra Menüplan erschaffen und Zusammengestellt.
Bei fast allen Sportarten bleibt die Belastung für den Muskel konstant. Wie lange Sie auch laufen, schwimmen oder ähnliche Sportarten betreiben, der Muskel arbeitet immer gegen den gleichen Widerstand. Sie erhöhen zwar durch diese Sportarten Ihre Ausdauer‚doch nehmen Sie kaum an Kraft zu. Um die Kraft zu steigern, müssen Sie immer wieder auch das Gewicht Ihrer Trainingshantel steigern und so den Körper zwingen, sich ständig der neuen Belastung anzupassen. Damit zwingen Sie Ihren Muskel, immer mehr Muskelfasern zu kontrahieren, um gegen den Widerstand zu arbeiten. Allein durch die Steigerung des Trainingsgewichtes Wird der Muskel mehr leisten und auch an Umfang zunehmen.
Nach einem Training werden Sie feststellen, dass Ihre Muskeln an Umfang zugenommen haben. Dieser Effekt wird in den meisten Fällen nicht länger als eine halbe Stunde anhalten. Dieser Zuwachs gründet sich auf die wesentlich stärkere Durchblutung des Muskels beim Training. Nach dem Training verschwindet dieser Effekt wieder, und der Muskel wird wieder Ausgangsgrösse haben.
Studienarbeit 1982 Magglingen
Zur Zeit bin ich verletzt,deshalb kann ich zur Zeit leider ,mich nicht sportlich Akiv betätigen .Deshalb ich
diese Woche für ich 3 Tage in der Sportklinik. in BS
Wann und wieviel trainieren?
Diese beiden Punkte hängen im wesentlichen von Ihrer persönlichen Einstellung ab. Zum »Wann« möchte ich Ihnen lediglich von der Zeit unmittelbar nach dem Aufstehen abraten. Nutzen Sie diese Zeit besser zu einem ausgiebigen Frühstück und einigen gymnastischen Übungen, denn es ist wenig ratsam, die Muskeln unmittelbar nach dem Schlaf mit Hanteltraining zu belasten. Ich hatte an meinem Wotkshop in Süd Korea allderdings die Erfahrung gemacht,dass auch am Morgen ein gutes Training zu machen.Allderding zuvor mind. 30 Min Joggen Die meisten Aktiven legen ihr Training in den frühen Nachmittag oder in die Zeit zwischen 17 und 22 Uhr. Es sollte immer zur gleichen Zeit trainiert werden.
In dieser Zeit sprechen die Muskeln am besten auf das Hanteltraining an. Versuchen Sie Ihr Training möglichst immer in die gleiche Zeit zu legen. Sie werden feststellen, daß Ihr Körper positiv darauf reagiert. Natürlich müssen Sie Ihre Trainingszeit mit Ihrem Terminkalender, Ihrer Freundin, Ihrer Familie und mit sich selbst abstimmen. Versuchen Sie das Training fest in Ihren Tagesablauf einzubetten; Ihr Körper wird sich auf die Belastung einstellen und sich darauf freuen. Höre, und verstehe Deinen Körper. Trage immer Sorge dazu.
Die Frage des »Wieviel« ist ziemlich schwierig zu beantworten. Hier spielen das persönliche Temperament und die Zielsetzung eine grosse Rolle. Gewöhnen Sie Ihren Körper langsam an die neue Belastung der Hanteln, indem Sie für den Anfang mit einem Gewicht trainieren, das Ihnen 10-12 Wiederholungen gestattet. Wärmen Sie sich vor jedem Training gründlich auf, damit Sie sich nicht verletzen. Für den Anfang sollten Sie sich mit maximal 4 Sätzen und je 10-12 Wiederholungen für eine Muskelgruppe begnügen. So können Sie den gesamten Körper in ca. 1 Stunde trainieren.
Wenn Sie längere Trainingserfahrung haben, können Sie das Training erhöhen, indem Sie das Gewicht der Hantel steigern, die Zahl der Wiederholungen auf 8 reduzieren und für jede Muskelgruppe bis zu 20 Sätze machen. Diese Trainingsart setzt allerdings eine gewisse Trainingserfahrung voraus und sollte frühestens nach 3 bis 4 Monaten betrieben
werden. Unterschätzen Sie als Anfänger nie die Wirksamkeit einer Übung, auch wenn Ihnen das Gewicht zu leicht erscheint. Denken Sie daran, dass Ihnen auch noch die 12. Wiederholung im letzten Satz korrekt gelingen soll. Wenn Ihnen an diesem Punkt das Gewicht immer noch zu leicht erscheint, legen Sie einige Kilo zu.
Aber gerade beim Neuling kommt es oft zu Fehleinschätzungen. Er überschätzt sich häufig und trainiert zu hart und mit zu schweren Gewichten. Dafür bedankt sich der Körper mit einem Muskelkater oder schlimmer noch mit einer Zerrung oder gar einem Muskelriss. Geben Sie Ihrem Körper die nötige Zeit, sich an die Hanteln zu gewöhnen und denken Sie immer daran, dass der Bauch, den Sie gerne wegtrainieren wollen, auch nicht in zwei Wochen gewachsen ist. Steigern Sie die Trainingsintensität und das Gewicht der Hantel erst, wenn Sie sicher im Umgang mit der Hantel sind und sich eine gewisse Basis erarbeitet haben. Nehmen Sie sich nicht die Kraftsportler zum Vorbild, die schon seit mehreren Jahren trainieren und haben Sie keine Hemmungen, eine Übung mit einem kleinen Gewicht auszuführen. Der gestandene Kraftsportler macht diese Übung Vielleicht mit 50 Kilo, Sie mit 5. Wenn Sie aber bei dieser Übung Ihre Maximalleistung erbracht haben, haben Sie im Prinzip die gleiche Leistung vollbracht, wie der seit Jahren trainierende.
Wenn Sie sich nach einem anstrengenden Arbeitstag zu schlapp fühlen, um überhaupt mit dem Training zu beginnen, lassen Sie sich davon nicht abhalten. Ignorieren Sie die Schlappheit und fangen Sie einfach an. Bereits nach wenigen Minuten werden Sie feststellen, daß die Müdigkeit »verflogen« ist, und nach der abschließenden Dusche werden Sie sich wie neugeboren fühlen. Beim Training wird der Körper nämlich bis zu 30mal stärker durchblutet als im Ruhestand, und somit werden die Muskeln mit Sauerstoff usw. versorgt. Das ist der Grund, warum Sie sich nach einem anstrengenden Training nicht müde und erschlagen fühlen werden. Wenn Sie einige Zeit trainiert haben, werden Sie lernen, auf die Signale Ihre Körpers zu hören, bzw.
sie zu erkennen. Wenn Sie einmal absolut keine Lust haben, eine Hantel in die Hand zu nehmen, zwingen Sie sich nicht dazu! Es wird Ihnen nicht schaden, einmal auszusetzen; nur angewöhnen sollten Sie sich dieses nicht!
Machen Sie ca alle 3 Monate eine Pause von einer Woche, um Ihrem Körper die Möglichkeit zu geben, sich auszuruhen.
Oder wie Hans Koller immer sagte, : Höre auf Deinen Körper.
I was sitting at lunch the other day and this guy walks into the restaurant. Probably early 40’s, over 6’ and wearing a gray sweater. His arms and shoulders filled it nicely and I noticed him giving me a look. It wasn’t a look of “I want to get to know you.” It was an “I’m sizing you up for a fight” look. I glanced back and puffed out my chest and kept eating, flexing my arms and I ate. This guy needed to know that I noticed and that I’m ready. He sat where we could see each other and the glances continued until he got up to leave and I finished the lunch meeting I was having with a co-worker. I spend a good part of the afternoon wondering what would have happened if I approached him, or even what approach to take.
It’s like those animal shows where two male lions cross paths and stare each other down only to have nothing happen. What kind of rush do they get? Is it similar to mine? Is it the muscle-tightening, heart-racing that comes with the thought of taking this guy on? How do you make the approach to begin with? Then there’s the thought of “what if I misread this guy?”
I think even the nicest, most laid-back dudes have it in them. We have the “can I take this guy?” brain cell that makes us wonder. What if I had made the right comment at the right time? In my mind, I was following him to his house to arm wrestle followed by a shirts off encounter that ended in me conquering him.
I promised myself that the next time I get that “look” from a guy, I’ll at least make the attempt to start the conversation somehow. Who knows?
Very disappointed in myself right now. Always thought of myself as somewhat intelligent enough to figure out lies and deception. But apparently I'm not. Apparently, it's easier than I thought for people to play me like a pawn on a chess board. I think that it's my fault, i assume innocence, take people at their word and look for the best in everyone. I accept responsibility for it. However, I don't believe it excuses the behavior of the preditorial individuals I've encoutered. There really is no excuse for someone to try and manipulate the daily course of someone else's life. As a society, we pay more attention to media that shows us horrible destruction daily. We often ignore the daily mental warfare we face when encountering infidels focused on altering the course of one's life though deceit, manipulation and pretentious behavior. This is what impacts us most of all. It impacts our senses, disturbs our thinking pattern, promotes confusion and disorientation. In turn, changes the course of our decision making process and impacts our behavior. I think that those individuals of religious orders who have retreated to remote locations to practice solitude have cracked the code. They are separated from society, bound by practice and order. They don't encounter society on a daily basis and therefore limit the abuse that's inflicted in our everyday culture. Simply put, there are no mind games to be played. No battling for position. Everyone partakes of the same meal, living quarters and are accountable the their order. We live in a hamster wheel, running nowhere. Running a race never to be won. Fighting the never ending war against humanity that was started and maintained by its own people. For me it's time for seclusion. Can be easily achieved. I've always tried to give humanity a chance. I think now the time where humanity actually existed has long past. Nothing is sacred or pure in this world anymore. Signing off.
I swear if it isn't one thing it's another. I'm confused as to how people assume that they have a right to control someone. Especially when it pertains to their time, effort and money. That's beyond rude. I'm done. I think a move to the other side of the country will suit me well. Furiously pissed off.
3AM. Can't sleep.
My eyes were just about to shut and my head was sinking into the pillow when I suddenly remembered last year when wrestling a straight guy I put my hand on his arse to push myself up.
I hope he didn't read anything into it.
Oh god. Will he be tagging himself as #metoo
It wasn't a sexual thing. I just wanted to push myself up. If he wasn't straight I'd think nothing about it.
But... maybe I should send him a message about. Or raise it with him in person.
Maybe I should write a blog about it.
Maybe I should do nothing about it.
It's the most embarrassing thing I've ever done...
Oh really ? Don't you remember the time when you-
And so it goes on.
I'm an overthinker. I live in my head a lot. Running and re-running any conversation I've ever had.
I'm fairly social awkward. I make gaffes. There's a lot to remember
If Im attracted to someone and am in their company for the first time, I'm a mess.
I clam up. I try to act natural.
Which is never natural.
I'm not your natural wrestler too.
Im not naturally aggressive.
Well unless you are Jacob Rees-Mogg or Donald Trump- and then I'd give you a verbal battering.
But I've never gone looking for fights. Even when being confrontational, I'm uneasy at the threat of violence erupting. Well uneasy and a faint trace of excitement. But that's the adrenaline.
I've been thinking about wrestling a lot recently. I've had people trying to coax out my more aggressive side. Be it unleashing my inner thug or raising up my fists and letting them fly free.
I've not found it easy in those roles.
I don't mind inhabiting those roles for a bit- but that's not me. That's not why I wrestle, i think.
I heard on the radio some song and it has the lyric "I find peace in your violence" and that resonated.
I like wrestling because I have to escape my brain and live in my body. We all know that moment when you are wrestling and the whole world just fades away. That's what I like. I'm not thinking about Putin's replacement, Hawksmoor churches, or why metaphysical poets leave me cold.
Just got to focus on stopping you choking me out or bending that limb at that angle.
I know wrestling is an intellectual sport where you do need tactics and can't rely on instincts. But that's not the level I'm wrestling at, or want to.
This is for fun. I'm not that competitive. It's why I like resisting not attacking. The decisions have been made. I have to react not analyse. And that's why I'll never be a top drawer wrestler.
I don't want the control. I just want to stop you having it completely and maybe claw some back.
Maybe. I'll think on it.
Now let's get back to 4am where I am thinking about when I tried to play it cool with a guy I wanted to wrestle and never did as was playing it too cool. Maybe I should send them a message or write a blog about it. That was the most embarrassing thing I've ever done.
Well except for that time in 1997 when I...
What a clusterfuk!
My dad secretly likes to have sex fights with other guys. I found out about this a couple years ago when I got a bit too curious as to what he and his buddies usually do on the basement. That's where Dad keeps his own personal wrestling ring, but I figured that's not unusual considering that he works as a pro wrestler for a relatively unknown company. Anyway, I had a suspicion so I hid a small camera to observe what's actually going on down there. Fast forward to now, I have with me dozens of videos of Dad 'wrestling' with other guys, some of whom I recognized as his coworkers. I'm not proud to admit that I have masturbated many times to those videos, especially when Dad is being dominated and is forced to suck the other guy's dick. That is why I still can't believe that I am now the one facing Dad in the very same ring.
Earlier in the day we had an argument. You see, I am a college student and I love to play football. I don't really give a damn about my grades and that's why Dad is mad at me for wasting his hard-earned money 'dicking around' with the football team. I have little respect for him so I talked back. It escalated and here we are, me and my dad in the ring. He looks to be about 6'0" and close to 300 lbs. He has the height advantage, but I most likely have the weight advantage. I don't think he goes to the gym nowadays, considering he looks like an off-season powerlifter with an inflated gut. Compared to him, I go to the gym three times a week and practice with my team whenever I can. I have gained a lot of muscle since I joined the team. Although, for some reason my belly refuses to lose its fat and that's why I have a bit of a beer belly. I suspect that part is genetic. He is wearing his favorite blue wrestling trunks, the one he often wears for work and for most of the sex fights. He offered me one of his gears, but I refused because I know their history. Instead I decided to wear my own gym shorts. We are facing each other in the middle of the ring, each of us trying to intimidate the other.
"I hope you're ready for some spanking, son." Dad taunts. "Because I'm not about to stop until I get some of that respect from you."
"Really, old man? Think you can beat these muscles with yours?" I taunt back, making a double biceps pose right in front of his face.
"Oh, you'll see." He says and shoves me back. The fight has started. I raise my arm for a haymaker but dad catches it into a wrist lock. I grimace in pain. "Wrestling isn't just about strength, son." He then brings my arm to my back, putting me in a hammerlock. "You should try using that big head of yours more often."
"Fuck off." I say.
"Language, son." He cranks up my arm. I am forced to stand on my toes to reduce the pain. He then shoves me forward. When I turn around Dad is just standing there as if he's waiting for me to recover. God, that pisses me off. I rush toward him. At the last moment, he sidestepped and wrapped his meaty arms around my belly. He roars and lifts me off the ground. I'm shocked by the display of strength as he continues to bring me over his head and slamming me back first onto the mat. Fuck, I don't know wrestling moves could actually hurt. Dad wastes no time, rolling me onto my belly and puts me in a Boston crab.
"Aaahhh!" I howl in pain.
"Do you give, son?" Dad says. Somehow I know he's grinning even without looking at him.
"No! Agghh!" I reply between groans.
Dad must have realized he's not getting a submission out of me. He releases my legs, giving me a moment of reprieve. He grabs my head in an attempt to pull me up. I take this opportunity to land a couple of strikes at his midsection. Oof. Dad takes his hand off of me. I pushed myself off the mat and tackle him right on his gut. He lands with a thud and I am now on top of him. I stand up and spread his legs apart. That's when I notice that Dad has a hard-on. I grin mischievously and Dad realizes what's going to happen, but he's too slow to prevent my foot from landing on his unguarded crotch.
"Oohh—" Dad moans. "Wh-what are you doing, son?"
I give no reply as I continue to grind his semi-hard cock. I can feel it growing under my bare feet. Dad continues to moan, giving little to no resistance against my assault. After a while I let go of my foot and pull him up, only to put him in a backbreaker. My one hand is holding down Dad's hairy pecs while the other finds its way on top of his trunks. I take my time massaging his meatballs and sausage, and somehow this is turning me on.
"Oh yeah... you like that, don't you, old man?" I ask. Dad only grunts and moans, no doubt enjoying my massage. But then he suddenly grabs one of my nipples, forcing me to let go. He follows up with a kick to my head, sending me sprawling onto the mat. When I regain my senses Dad is standing over me. There is now a small wet spot on his trunks, but what surprises me the most is how pissed he looks.
"You dare touch your dad's cock!?" He lets his body fall on top of me, his knee sinking into my belly. "Who taught you that, son? I'd like to have a word with him!" He pulls down my shorts, exposing my man meat for all to see. I try to fight back but his other hand holds me down. "I think I should teach you a lesson or two just for that, boy." Dad proceeds to squeeze my fat orbs. The sensation of pain is mixed with pleasure, causing me to moan involuntarily. Fuck, how did I end up in this situation? I need to find a way out fast. I grab the hand that's holding my beefy pecs and try to push it, but Dad is stronger than I expected. My cock has fully grown to its peak, and Dad shows no sign of letting up.
He switches from kneading my balls into stroking my shaft. I try pushing him again with more strength. I succeeded, but as Dad is being shoved away he grabs my shorts and completely pulls it off of me. I stand on my feet, one hand clutching my junk in an attempt to hide it. Dad gets up and tosses my only garment over the rope. Looks like I now have to fight at a disadvantage.
Dad approaches me and we engage in a standing grappling match. My erect cock flops around as I try my best to get the upper hand. Dad manages to get behind me and puts me in a full nelson. I try to break free using pure strength to no avail. Unlike my dad, I have essentially zero experience when it comes to pro wrestling holds. Dad's junk is pressing against my buttcrack and I'm glad he's still wearing his trunks, otherwise he might decide to just fuck me right there and then.
"Do you give?" Dad says. "I might let you off easy if you do."
I consider giving up for a moment but I squish the thought quickly considering my pride is on the line. "Never!" I say.
"Heh, suit yourself." He then transitions into a sleeper choke. I think I now have a better chance of escaping, but as I try prying his arms apart I realize that his hold is still as strong as ever. The lack of oxygen soon causes my entire body to go limp. I fall down to my knee. Soon I am about to pass out, but then Dad releases the hold, causing me to fall on all fours gasping for air. Dad grabs my head and forces me to walk toward the nearest corner. He positions my barely conscious body so that my back rests on the turnbuckle and my arms on either side of me. He takes a step back and puts his hands on his side as if considering what to do with me. As he does this I am still trying to breathe as hard as I can. After some time, Dad brings his hands toward my nipples and twists them hard.
"Ooooooohhhhh..." I moan. My cock jerks upward and shoots some pre.
Dad chuckles. "I can make you cum here and now, but you'd like that, wouldn't you?" He continues playing with my nips. I actually don't mind if he did that. "No, your punishment must be more severe."
Dad releases my nips with a parting twist, causing more pre to leak out of my tool. He starts punching my belly. I am able to resist most of them thanks to my experience as a lineman. However, after a while my defense starts to fall apart as Dad keeps pummeling the same spot over and over again. I have regained enough energy by this point so I make a sudden leap and wrap my arms around Dad's girthy body. He clearly wasn't expecting this. Dad tries to break out of my bearhug but I have both his arms firmly trapped. I can feel his cock pressing against the fabric and my belly, so I decided to shake his body left and right to grind it more.
"Oohhh..." Now is Dad's turn to moan helplessly.
"Not so tough anymore, huh?" I taunt him. There is nothing he can do against my bearhug. But then I feel something pressing against my cock. I realize too late that he's using his thick thighs to rub my man meat. I feel the pleasurable sensation coming close, so I focus all of my attention to fight it back. This causes my hold to weaken, allowing Dad to break it and putting me in his own bearhug.
"Ahh!" Damn it, I can't believe I let that happen. Dad continues to rub my cock, this time using his hefty belly. I can't hold back anymore. My cock explodes, spewing its content all over Dad's belly and mine.
"Do you want to submit now, son?" Dad smiles, knowing the fight is over.
I feel so drained after emptying my cannon. "Yes, Dad, I submit." I say weakly.
"Do you accept that I'm the better man?"
"Will you now do whatever I say as long as you live in my house?"
I hesitate for a moment. Dad tightens his grip. "Ahh! Yes, Dad! Can you let me go now?"
"What was that, son? I can't hear you when you're disrespecting me like that." He tightens the bearhug even more. The pain is starting to become unbearable.
"Ahh! Okay, okay, I'll do whatever you want, just please let me go now!"
"Better." He says, releasing me. I drop down immediately. "As my first order, you will call me 'sir' from now on. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Dad." I reply, quickly realizing my mistake. Dad stomps my cum stained gut. "I'm sorry, SIR!"
"Hmph." He continues. "As for my second order..." Dad pulls his trunks down slightly, revealing his fat prick. "I want you to suck this."
I lay there motionless. Dad immediately understands why. "Your first time, son? Don't worry, I'll guide you." He pulls me to a kneeling position and positions my face in front of his junk. Damn, it looks much bigger this close. I give no resistance as Dad slides his cock into my mouth. Then he begins moving back and forth. "Try to wrap your tongue around— ooh, nice. You're getting the hang of it, son." To be honest, I have no idea what I'm doing. I still can't believe I'm sucking my dad's dick. He continues to hump my mouth even as he gives me more tips. Soon I can feel he's about to blow up. I instinctively try to back away, but Dad holds my head in place and pushes his cock deeper. He pumps his hot steamy liquid inside my mouth as he orders me to swallow it all. I choke, but I do what he ordered me to do. Some of it comes out of my mouth and rolls down my chin. Dad keeps his cock inside even after he's done emptying his load. After some time, he finally takes it out.
"Not bad for your first time, son. Clearly, you have some talent." He lets go of my head, causing me to fall onto my butt. "We'll do this again tomorrow, I think I have some other things to tell you then." Dad exits the basement, leaving me alone to contemplate on what just happened.
What a really bad day.
But maybe something good will come of it.