More Interesting Wheelchairs

Apparently, I’ve started a funky wheelchair theme here on the blog. Last week I shed some light on the new Mobi-Chair, which is a floatable beach wheelchair. Just today I came across two more interesting ones that I wanted to share. First, is the LSA Helium, which is a stand-up manual wheelchair. I’ve seen handfuls of stand-up power wheelchairs over the years but never a stand-up manual chair. So in that regard the LSA Helium really stands out to me, pun intended.

The second wheelchair is the IRV 2000 by Trac About, Inc., which is a belt track driven chair. Thus it looks like a mini wheelchair-like tank that can easily roll over snow, sand, mud, etc. without getting its wheels stuck in ruts like standard wheelchairs would. Pretty fascinating chair. If you visit the site linked just above check out the photo album and online videos.

Of course, the championship belt of funky wheelchairs still resides with the Tank Chair. Talk about screw-you-I’ll-go-wherever-I-want-to wheelchair badassery. Apparently, the chair’s inventor created it for his wife who is paralyzed.

Floating Beach Wheelchair

As fall is in full swing here in Minneapolis summer is suddenly becoming a fading memory again. Nonetheless, I came across an intriguing accessible beach product worth sharing for those who live in warmer climates, or those already planning ahead to summer 2011: the Mobi-Chair, which is a floatable beach wheelchair. As you can see from the pictures it’s a pretty wild looking concept. Three big flat yellow wheels that can roll easily over the sand without getting caught in ruts, armrests made of those orange rescue tubes that the lifeguards on “Baywatch” used to run around the beach with (often in slow motion), and a striped seat and backrest design reminiscent of a circus tent. The whole chair is designed to allow people with mobility issues to hit the big waves at the beach, or even the smaller ones at the pool.

As much as I miss swimming, and I haven’t been on a beach of any form since the day of my diving accident over fourteen years, my quick take is that I’m not sure this chair would be the ticket for me. The most obvious hindrance from my perspective is how hard it would be to get in and out of the chair. The low to the ground seating profile means that a level seat to seat chair transfer is out. And even if they were at an even level the wide, bulbous armrests would get in the way. Therefore, the only way for someone like me to use the chair would be to have a team of folks lift me in and out. It also looks like there might not be enough back, seat, or lateral support that would make for comfortable sitting for more than a short while.

But that’s just my take. Clearly, a chair like this opens countless doors for others who are very rarely out of their wheelchairs or other mobility devices, let alone able to go for a swim. To wit, this video clip features a sampling of folks with disabilities who are pretty thrilled to be able to get out into the water. Surf’s up dudes!

Wishing a Full Recovery for Eric LeGrand

In my very last post about the wheelchair user who scored a touchdown I described it as a cool convergence of sports and disability. But unfortunately every yin has its yang, and thus it was with great disappointment that I learned about Rutgers defensive tackle Eric LeGrand, who was paralyzed below the neck after making a tackle against Army this past weekend.  He has since undergone emergency spinal surgery and apparently is in good spirits.

Now in my world the phrase “paralyzed below the neck” is typically synonymous with quadriplegia, so I can only assume that is the kind of recovery that he has in store for him. As daunting and unfortunate as that is there has been some pretty good recent precedent of football players sustaining significant spinal cord injuries and having successful recoveries from them.

In 2000 former Penn State cornerback Adam Taliaferro sustained a SCI at the C-5 level. He was given a 3% chance of walking again but after eight months of rehab he was on his feet again (but never played again). I still remember watching him lead the team onto the field the following football season. It was pretty emotional. Rutgers coach Greg Schiano apparently spoke with mentor and former sideline boss Joe Paterno, who was Taliaferro’s coach at the time of his injury, to pick his brain about how to properly support LeGrand and move forward with the team.

In 2007 Kevin Everett, a reserve tight end for the Buffalo Bills, sustained a SCI while attempting a special teams tackle against the Denver Broncos. He suffered a compression of his C-3 and C-4 vertebrae and initially had no movement in his extremities, which made him a very high level quadriplegic. But immediately after his injury a Bills team physician, Dr. Andrew Cappuccino, decided to do a medical procedure known as cold therapy or hypothermia therapy that reduces the body’s overall temperature via an intravenous cold saline solution and thereby protected Everett’s spinal cord from further swelling and damage. The therapy was developed with a great deal of help from Dr. Barth Green, the president of the Miami Project to Cure Paralysis. Dr. Cappuccino called Dr. Barth after he started the cold therapy. Anyway, it was a risky decision but ultimately was a good move because despite his initial chances of walking being bleak or dismal Everett also went on to be able to walk again.

So LeGrand is currently in a tough spot to be sure. I still vividly recall being in his shoes fourteen years ago: the fear, confusion, frustration, uncertainty, etc. But working in his favor are the facts that he is a conditioned athlete and that he had his injury in a time where there are a litany of medical advancements in the world of SCI. I extend my support and sympathies to both he and his family and hope that he has a full recovery. With some luck he might even end up like Taliaferro and Everett.

 

Wheelchair User Scores a TD

With football season upon us, and with me being both a super football fan and a person with a disability, it's always cool to see those rare occurrences when the world of sports and disability converge. Today I came across this link to Fanhouse* about a high school football player in a wheelchair who scored a touchdown. The player is Dylan Galloway, a senior at Manila High School in Arkansas who has paralysis due to cerebral palsy. Apparently, the opposing team agreed ahead of time to cooperate by clearing the way for Dylan to score on the very last game of the game. Good for that kid. And a great demonstration of good sportsmanship. Check out the video below.



*For the record, I disapprove of the article's use of the phrase "confined to a wheelchair."

RIP Christopher Reeve: My Personal Encounter with the Man Himself (From the Archives)

Yesterday marked the six year anniversary of Christopher Reeve’s passing. To pay tribute I thought that I would repost what I wrote last year about his impact, the day that I met him, etc., and to continue that practice in future years. The only thing that I will add here at the forefront is that within sixteen hours or so of making that post live I got an email from Christopher Reeve’s daughter, which was obviously a great surprise. I won’t get into the details in order to preserve what was a private, special exchange, but in short she thanked me for writing the post, for keeping her dad’s memory alive, that my intuition about him was correct that day, and for respectfully giving him the moment of privacy that you’ll read about further below. The Christopher & Dana Reeve Foundation and fellow Reeve supporters were my target audience with that post, so it was quite shocking to be contacted directly by a member of the Reeve family, let alone so soon after posting it. But I’m glad that it had such a positive impact, and I still consider that the highlight of my writing “career.” You can read the Reeve Foundation post commemorating the sixth anniversary of his passing here or see how people are sharing their thoughts on the subject here. Check out my archived post below:

Today marks the five year anniversary of Christopher Reeve's passing, and I couldn’t let it pass by me without sharing a few words about that. In short, his death was a highly unfortunate event at the time, and its saddening impact remains so to this day. I still remember that day quite vividly in fact. When I first caught word that he had died everything in my life stopped briefly. I was a month and a half into my second year of law school, and needless to say my studies took a dive for the rest of the day. In its stead I hit the web and read everything about his passing that I could. That followed with a period of extended quiet reflection. I found the way he died (suffering a cardiac arrest that was preceded by a skin pressure wound that caused a systemic infection) very sobering because it’s something that’s an issue for all people with SCI. Thankfully pressure sores and skin breakdowns have never been a problem with me – presumably a result of my being careful with all the body parts I can’t feel and my surprisingly tough skin – but what put things into perspective was the realization about how things could go south pretty drastically if it were to ever occur.

Once the initial shock wore off my thoughts on the matter went into two different directions. First, and I briefly echoed this in my Derrick Thomas post, I was deeply saddened to lose an “SCI brother.” Living with paralysis stemming from a spinal cord injury has become a pretty common disability type these days but that group as a whole is still quite a minority as compared to everyday, able-bodied society as a whole. So to that regard I’ve always felt like I’ve shared membership in a club of sorts to others who live with SCI. Thus I always felt a fairly strong connection to Christopher Reeve. And not just that, but he was the president and CEO of our unique club.

That said, secondly, and maybe selfishly, my thoughts then immediately went to fear for the future of SCI research and fundraising. People in my position, who have lived this lifestyle for years and years, are not just going to wake up on some given morning to discover that all of our physical faculties have returned on their own. We rely quite exclusively on the discovery of the elusive cure for paralysis to get most, and possibly all of it back. With Reeve’s passing, the discovery of said cure and other related things that improve the lives of people living with SCI suddenly felt iffy because our greatest champion for the cause had fallen. Reeve was almost hands down the face of our disability, thanks in large part to his popular global icon status as SUPERMAN. Without his unfortunate accident, and the publicity that ensued, SCI issues would not have been thrust into the public sphere to the immediate and vast nature that they did. Moreover, his journey in the aftermath, his positive attitude, and his decree that it was not a matter of if, but when he realized his dream of walking again brought a ton of awareness and activism about SCI in a short period of time that I’m guessing would not equal where we would be fourteen years later today without him.

Thus right away I was highly concerned that all of the great progress that was being made in that area while he was still alive would slow down significantly after his death, or worse: stall out completely. But the Christopher & Dana Reeve Foundation has continued to do great things in his wake, and with Marc Buoniconti being on the cover of Sports Illustrated a few months ago representing The Miami Project to Cure Paralysis and all of their great work, I think that the fight for a cure for paralysis has been able to maintain itself as an important public issue that requires much more progress to fulfill its ultimate goal.

My own personal account of Christopher Reeve dates back to the fall of 1996 when I met him briefly in Denver, CO. Somewhere around early November Reeve was in Denver for a major public speaking engagement at the downtown convention center. At the time I was still out in Denver for an eight week extensive inpatient spinal cord injury rehab stint at Craig Hospital, arguably the finest facility in the country (if not the world) for such a thing. While he was in town he stayed in a room about six doors down from mine in the East Building at Craig, which is essentially the residence wing. All the rooms in that part of the facility were set up like single living accessible apartments with a private bathroom, a mini fridge, an office-type area, and a living room area with a pullout couch bed for family members to sleep on. Most of the Craig patients that roomed in the residence side of the facility were in their final transition period before getting discharged from rehab, which for me meant that at the time I was in my last two to three weeks before going back home.

It was no surprise that Reeve stayed at Craig while he was in town. First of all, the room where he stayed was easily the most accessible lodging in the city, not to mention completely private from the public. Second, the word on the street leading up to his visit was that immediately after his injury Reeve wanted to come out to Denver to do his SCI rehab at Craig, because of the great national reputation it has, but they didn’t have any patient openings to accommodate him at the time. I’m not sure if that’s actually true but if it is then in a roundabout way he finally got his chance to stay there and see the facility first-hand.

The morning after he arrived he held a city-wide press conference in the media room at Craig (fun fact: I used to watch my Packer games on their 72 inch big screen TV). I don’t remember if I missed the presser because I wasn’t up yet or because I was in the middle of my morning therapy sessions, but my dad went down and took some pictures (I’ll have to scan and post later). Sometime afterwards my dad came back to my room and mentioned that a bunch of other patients had congregated a few doors down from Reeve’s if I wanted to go try and meet the man himself. I’ve never been one to resort to rubbernecking but considering I would probably never have such an opportunity ever again I ventured down the hall to join the other half dozen or so nonetheless.

After a brief moment Reeve appeared from his room and came down to us. He used a sip and puff mechanism to drive his wheelchair and as soon as he stopped and moved his mouth away from the sip/puff thing he said “Hey, everybody” in a quiet, friendly voice. The group responded with a collective ‘hey’ back. Then he asked what we were doing there at Craig, kind of focusing his attention on one lady in particular to start things off. She was a paraplegic who was discharged less than two weeks after I arrived at Craig. If my memory serves it was her second time at Craig due to a re-injury. I remember also that she was very loud, brash, and kind of speedy aggressive with her wheelchair, but not necessarily in a negative way. She belonged to a click of sorts with a handful of other patients who had been in rehab together for quite the same amount of time. Whenever I saw them hanging out in the halls I felt like a high school freshman steering clear of the cool upper classmen group all over again. It should be noted that in true circle of life fashion (my nephew’s really been into the LION KING lately so I had to throw in that reference) about four weeks after she was gone I found myself involved with a similar click of my own. And in my rehab discharge roundtable with my parents and rehab team my physical therapist (an ex-Navy SEAL of 26 years) mentioned that a handful of his other rehab patients had started requesting a fast manual wheelchair like mine, assuming that the chair was the reason for the speed I was exhibiting, not me making it go fast.

Anyway, when he essentially asked her what she was there for she very quickly replied, “To see you.” Then he said, “Well are you here for therapy as well?” And then she said back, “Nope, I just came to see you.” I don’t recall the details of any other specific conversation exchanges he had with the group but I do remember that he didn’t stay and chat with us for long. I remember thinking at the time, and still feel the same to this day, that it was unfortunate that of any person in the group that he opened up his brief friendly dialogue with it was with the one person who was no longer affiliated with the facility and had only visited that day just to get a close up look at him.

My immediate impression of the whole exchange at the time, and an opinion I still strongly share to this day, is that I think he just wanted to shoot the breeze with us about our therapies and our thoughts on getting a chance to do rehab at such a fine facility. Kind of a “we’ve all gone through this” note comparison session. That theory carries extra weight if it’s in fact true that his admission request was turned away. So as far as that goes, I always felt like he just wanted to pick our brains about getting to do something that he never got the chance to do. That’s why I think it’s too bad that most of his native chit chat time was taken up with someone who couldn’t read between the lines. I feel like at least she could have told him that she was a former patient and not just a crazy fan. Had he engaged me instead I would have said that I was a c-7 quad, had a diving accident, was from Wisconsin, came there for more aggressive therapy, it was hard as hell to be away from my family and friends but it was a necessary move that I didn’t regret, talked up the quality of the joint, and asked where he rehabbed and what his thoughts were about it. I guess I should have raised my hand or something.

That afternoon I got the chance to go to the convention center and see him speak. In fact, most of the hospital staff and patients got the afternoon off from therapy to do so as well. For me it was a very liberating round-trip because unlike most everyone else who got bused downtown, I got a separate day pass to go by myself with my parents. One of the smart things my parents did was have our Chevy Blazer driven out to Denver so they had a vehicle to get around. It was only a small handful of times that I got to leave completely untethered from the facility. So it was kind of a big deal at the time to be able to drive down there by ourselves.

Because we were on our own schedule, we got to head downtown after most everyone else had already left. As fate had it, on our way to the elevator we crossed paths with Reeve and his crew of people, who were also getting ready to load up on the elevator. They were right by the elevator doors so we waited politely behind this decorative wall divider thing so that they could get on the elevator first. But someone in his entourage saw us and and waived us past because they weren’t quite ready. As I was just about to break into view of him I heard him say “A little more to the right” which based on my own experience I assumed meant that their holdup was because he needed a body adjustment in his chair. Thus even though I passed by him within less than six feet between us I didn’t look over in his direction to respect his privacy. In retrospect I probably should have glanced over and given him a quick hello or a friendly nod, but at the time I felt pretty strongly about keeping the blinders on because I knew how frustrating it was to have people stare at you while you were getting some private adjustment.

So my one close encounter with Christopher Reeve didn’t quite have the bang for the buck, and was more like a fly by, but at the time it was a really great moment for me and my parents. And I always like getting the chance to share the story. But overall, the thing that I will always take away from that day and that chance meeting is that when you strip it all away – the Superman thing, the social popularity, the global icon status, the face of our disability – he was just one of us: a guy who sustained an unfortunate, life altering spinal cord injury, became a quadriplegic, and was just trying to continue on with his life as best as he could. And yes maybe that included waiving a few people onto the elevator ahead of him because he needed help getting a few small adjustments to make him feel more comfortable and presentable.

Keeping with the spirit of this anniversary, here’s a couple of related links I wanted to share. The first is an article written by the CEO of the Christopher & Dane Reeve Foundation about how the best way to honor his legacy is to find a cure for paralysis. Clearly, I concur with that notion. The second is the Reeve Foundation forum page where people have been posting their thoughts about the five year anniversary of Reeve’s passing and sharing stories about how he touched their lives.

So in closing I say rest in peace, good sir. It was great getting the brief chance to meet you once upon a time in Denver.

There’s an Accessible App For That

Recently, the Reeve Foundation’s Paralysis Resource Center posted their Guide to Apps for People Using Wheelchairs. The guide breaks down into nine categories: Accessories, For Kids, Health & Fitness, Games & Entertainment, Travel, Reference & News, Productivity, Assistive Technology, and Medical. Giving the category lists a quick run through I don’t see how a number of them cater to people living with paralysis specifically, but there are plenty of cool apps nonetheless. The only downer is that they are very iPhone, iPad, and iPod heavy, so those of us that are not Apple Disciples get left out in the dark on some good stuff.

Regardless, it’s worth mentioning a few that I think would be neat to utilize. In the Health and Fitness category there is an app called Physiotherapy Exercises that displays over 600 exercises for people with spinal cord injuries. I just did a guest post on the EasyStand Blog about my difficulties getting a good workout with SCI (i.e. Wannabe Gym Rat). In the Reference and News category I like the Spinal Cord Encyclopedia app, which provides info, pictures, and graphics of the spinal cord. I would also make good use of the Americans with Disabilities Act Reference app (provides ADA guidelines and FAQ’s) and the QuickADA app (gives you ADA regs and codes).

In the Medical category there’s the smart-ICE app which gives first responders instant access to your medical records, which is nice because the more info that you can give someone else in an emergency situation the better when you have a disability related health issue. Related, the Help Me! app one touch dials 911 for you in an emergency but still gives you time to cancel if you hit it accidentally. I have been stuck in my van with nothing but my cell phone to help me plenty of times, but thankfully not in any emergency situations. So those are ideal for those purposes.

I think the apps I would use the most fall under the Travel category though. CitiRollers is a guide to navigating cities on wheels, but currently features location data for just six major cities. FastMall gives step-by-step directions to wheelchair accessible routes through malls and shopping districts, specifically highlighting elevators and bathrooms. I can’t tell you how handy that would have been a few months ago when I rolled the length of about two football fields in a Minneapolis mall only to discover a) that it was out order and b) there was a closer one to my mall entrance not labeled on the mall directions marquis. The word “pissed” doesn’t begin to cover it. The LocalEats app lets you know if certain restaurants are wheelchair accessible, which is cool because it’s always a bummer to plan to try out a new eatery only to discover upon arriving that access is a no go.

Also under the Travel category is the app I like the most because it lets you fight back against handicapped parking abuse. The Parking Mobility app works by taking a series of pictures with your phone of cars without disability placards/license plates that include the plates, the spot the car is/ parked in, etc. and submit them to Parking Mobility. Then they review the data and send it to the municipality, who then distributes tickets to the offending parties. Very awesome. Plus it’s free for iPhone users. I wrote a research paper on handicapped parking laws in law school and the premise was that utilizing volunteer reporting will go a long way towards helping to cure the problem of rampant handicapped parking abuse. This app puts the power to police handicapped parking violations in the hands of the public. Quite literally, I might add.

There has been quite a bit of discussion on blogs, etc. lately about cell phone accessibility and what phones are the most accessible. I think the general consensus has been that the iPhone is the most accessible phone on the market on account of the touch screen, screen magnification, VoiceOver feature, attachments, apps, etc. For example, for wheelchair users specifically the iPortal by Dynamic Controls is a power chair accessory that connects to an iPhone or iPod touch to display wheelchair information, such as battery power levels, chair speed, seat positioning, and heading direction. It also lets users control their iPhone using the chair’s joystick. Now that’s what I call making good use of accessible technology.

Cell phone accessibility to me has always meant, despite my limited hand and finger functioning, whether it’s a phone I can handle and hold up to my ear first and foremost, and then secondly whether I can easily dial, text, and use the other primary functions. But my only issue with cell phones is related to my lack of manual dexterity. Phone accessibility to other disabilities means visual and/or sound cues, the ability to magnify the display, voice commands, or other related functionality.

The first four years that I had a cell phone I was way behind the technology curve with my “candy bar” style phone when flip phones (e.g. the Motorola Razr) were all the rage because I don’t have the manual dexterity to flip the phone open on command. By the time I would have gotten the thing open I more than likely would have missed the call, or dropped the phone in the process. My quad friend Mike worked around that issue by Velcroing his flip phone to the armrest of his wheelchair. Then he flips the phone open, dials or texts with the back of one his knuckles, and uses a Bluetooth earpiece to talk. But I don’t like the idea of having an earpiece in all day and you still have to deal with the flip thing.

Thankfully, the proliferation of “smart phones” brought it all full circle again and now there are a plethora of cell phones that would work fine for me. When my agreement was up two years ago I wanted to make the jump to smart phones. Blackberries went out right away because I wasn’t a fan of that little trackball. Plus I wanted a touch screen phone. I had full intentions of getting an iPhone but I tried one out and found myself frustrated with the touch screen keyboard. So I ended up getting a Samsung Epix (since discontinued) because it was a touch screen phone that had both a touch screen keyboard and a full qwerty raised button keyboard. So it was the best of both worlds. I’m still not sure why the product failed, I think it’s a cool phone.

But my two year deal is up again and I’m moving up to a full touch screen phone this time since I ended up using the touch screen keyboard to type about 90% of the time. I decided to dump AT&T for a handful of reasons (spotty signal mostly). I’ve got my eye on the Motorola Droid with Verizon or the HTC EVO with Sprint. Unfortunately, going away from AT&T means going away from the iPhone, which in turn obviously means that I won’t have access to many of the aforementioned accessible apps since they’re so Apple heavy. So I guess in my case there won’t be an accessible app for that, unless the Droid or EVO up their game.

Happy Birthday, Christopher Reeve

Today is/would be Christopher Reeve’s 58th birthday, so I always like to make brief recognition of that. I had some expanded thoughts about that in last year’s post, and I still echo those sentiments, so go check that out if you’re interested (FYI one link no longer works). What I will add though is a link to a Reeve Foundation blog post that commemorates his birthday and legacy with some brief retrospective thoughts from someone who is involved with the Reeve Foundation as well as fan, supporters, and Reeve Foundation community member comments about Christopher. Happy would-be 58th.

One Man's Annoying / Aggravating / Interesting Access Picture of the Week

I guess you need an Inspector Gadget style rocket spring wheelchair to access this bathroom? Calling it a joke is a major understatement.

The World’s Most Dominant Athlete?

Being an avid sports fan my “morning coffee,” if you will, is checking ESPN.com, SI.com, online newspaper articles about my favorite sports teams (Badgers, Packers, Avalanche), and my fantasy sports teams right away after I fire up my computer in the morning. Most days it’s just a ho-hum going through the paces proposition, but every now and again a headline will really grab my attention. This morning on SI.com I saw a link to “the world’s most dominant athlete” and enthusiastically clicked on the link to appease my curiosity.

To my great surprise it linked to a cool article about a wheelchair tennis player: Twenty-nine year old Esther Vergeer, a paraplegic from the Netherlands, who has been dominating her sport like no athlete in any sport has for decades. To wit, she hasn’t lost a tennis match in over seven years, running up a record of 396 straight matches and counting, has won ten consecutive world titles, and in that timeframe she apparently was in danger of losing just once. Clearly she is the number one ranked player in her sport and has a career 96% match win rate. She just won the U.S. Open for a fifth time and now has sixteen major titles. That is the same amount of majors as Roger Federer, who over the past few years has been touted as the greatest male tennis player in history. Needless to say, she is quite a phenomenal athlete.

How a person can play tennis from a wheelchair fascinates me. When I was using my manual wheelchair full time for the first year and change after my diving accident I had my hands full just pushing myself around on most days, let alone doing any quick “athletic” maneuvers. To play tennis from a wheelchair requires you to serve the ball, put the tennis racket on your lap and/or hold onto it while you push yourself around the court, get yourself in position to return volley, pick the racket up again and hit the ball, then roll to a new position on the court executing sharp back and forth cuts, pick up the racket and hit the ball again, and repeat it all in an instant for the entire duration of the match. The rules of wheelchair tennis allow for two bounces of the ball between hits instead of just one, but still. As a quadriplegic, who was a terrible able-bodied tennis player to boot, I can’t fathom such talent considering I could probably only muster about an eight foot dribbler of a tennis volley. Wheelchair tennis takes a lot of strength and endurance, and the way Esther has dominated the sport for so long is the epitome of pure athleticism. Awesome for her. I’m an instant fan.

So check out how Esther Vergeer’s Dominance Transcends Her Wheelchair on Fanhouse, and the reigning The Queen of Wheelchair Tennis… Esther Vergeer on the AMS Vans Blog (the latter provides some more background info on how she became a paraplegic, a quick tidbit about the history of wheelchair tennis and its equipment, and includes a video of Esther in action). Both are enlightening reads.

New EasyStand Blog Guest Post: Wannabe Gym Rat

My latest guest post on the EasyStand Blog has now gone live. I discuss my frustrations coming up with ways to get in an adequate workout and stay fit. Then I outline my current workout regimen so that others in similar positions as me who struggle for workout ideas can maybe glean something.


So please check out Wannabe Gym Rat.