CHAPTER FIVE: Apollonian and Dionysian Orientations (Not Just Pumping Iron)

CHAPTER FIVE: Apollonian and Dionysian Orientations

Part One: The Equipment

One of the most heated debates in the iron world in recent years has been the debate over equipment. Specifically, the controversy has been framed as "free weights" versus "machines." The proponents of free-weights (mainly barbells and dumbbells) have argued that they are superior for maximum development of strength and physique, they allow greater variety of exercises, and they develop coordination beyond what machines afford. The other camp, those who champion machines, argue that machines are safer to use, more nearly insure that any given exercise is performed correctly, and create exercises which work certain muscles at angles which free-weights cannot. But the strongest argument put forth by the machine companies is that these machines provide the most efficient development of muscular strength known.

In order to understand the arguments presented on both sides of the debate, one must understand how the various pieces of equipment work. They all have the same purpose, namely, to provide resistance during an exercise movement and to provide a means of increasing that resistance over time as the lifter grows stronger. This is in accord with the overload principle touched upon in an earlier chapter. To state the principle simply, when a muscle is worked against a resistance which is greater than that to which it is accustomed (i.e. overloaded), it will increase in strength in order to accommodate the increased demand. In other words, overload a muscle and it will become accustomed to the new demand. To keep the muscle growing, keep overloading it, with appropriate time intervals, nutritional requirements, and rest for its recuperation. The various pieces of equipment differ in the type of resistance which they provide and in a way that they change the level of resistance. The most important criterion is that the apparatus provides for progressive resistance exercise.

It is interesting to look at the evolution of weight lifting equipment. The first systematic attempt at progressive resistance training in Western culture is popularly considered to be made in ancient Greece by Milo of Crotona. At least, so goes the legend, and the legend is just that. Readers of this blog will be more than familiar with the story. I don't know about you, but I have yet to visit a gym which keeps livestock, so the method has been improved upon over time.

With the progressive resistance principal established, thanks to Milo's oh-so-bovine demo, no doubt other people used this principle with various kinds of makeshift exercise equipment. Stones of progressive sizes were collected for lifting and tossing. Cannon balls replaced stones, being more comfortable to hold. Someone thought to put a handle on a cannonball, and the kettlebell was invented. Thinking it would be easier to "handle" a pair of cannonballs, the dumbbell evolved. The handle was extended and the barbell came into being. These early pieces of equipment were known as globe dumbbells and barbells, spherical dumbbells and barbells because of the shape of the weighted end pieces. The metal spheres or globes were sometimes solid, sometimes hollow. The hollow spheres could, of course, be larger for a given amount of weight, and would therefore look more impressive when lifted. As I mentioned in a previous chapter, other heavy objects were lifted in the early strength shows -- anvils, cannon, platforms loaded with people, automobiles, animals, sledge hammers, you name it. Sometimes barbells were constructed from heavy wheels or from barrels which were then filled with some weighty content . . . great works of intellectual brilliance, scientific dissertations, puns of various sizes and shapes.

For the strength showmen, all of these apparati were important, and the more dramatic the better. But for the non-professional, the man who wanted to engage in the new "physical culture," the spherical dumbbells and barbells became the popular equipment. Free-hand calisthenics and calisthenics with fixed weight equipment such as Indian clubs and medicine balls began to be supplanted in the new physical culture circles by progressive resistance exercise, made possible by graduated sets of dumbbells and barbells. Exercise routines were pretty much standardized, based on the publication of a book by Theodor Siebert in Germany in 1907. Interestingly, Siebert's exercises provide the core of beginning lifting routines even today. 

In addition to making progressive resistance exercise practical for many people, barbells and dumbbells provide a degree of standardization which was necessary for contemporary lifting to develop. As part of their shows, the early strongmen put forth a challenge to members of the audience to step forth and equal their demonstrated feats. The feats, however, often involved odds and ends of non-standardized equipment, perhaps of unknown weight, and non-standardized ways of lifting (or bending and breaking, as in the case of horseshoes and chains, respectively). This, of course, gave the show person a distinct advantage in that the person who took up the challenge, in most cases, would not have had the opportunity to practice with this unique equipment.

An improvement of spherical weights came with the use of lead shot to load the hollow spheres to desired poundages. This was another step towards a standardized apparatus so much needed for lifting competition. With shot loaded spherical barbells it was easier for someone to attempt another person's best lift at another place and another time. A weight could be reported and a challenger could put his barbell on the scale and add lead shot until a desired weight was reached. The loaded sphere also made it easier to practice progressive resistance training in that fewer barbells and dumbbells were required. One could increase the weight of an existing barbell or dumbbell by adding lead shot as he became stronger, rather than having to construct or purchase a heavier barbell or dumbbell with each significant increase in strength.

Loaded spherical weights were used in Olympic competition as late as the 1924 games in Paris. That year lifters had a choice of using these or of using the new disc equipped barbell.

The clatter of barbell plates was the death knell for the spherical barbell. The invention of the barbell which used discs or plates meant that one piece of equipment would conveniently serve for many. One adjustable barbell could be quickly and easily loaded to any desired weight. This meant that a person who could not afford to equip a home gym with several spherical barbells of different sizes, or who didn't want to perform a tedious operation of weighing, loading, and unloading a hollow sphere with lead shot, could now purchase one apparatus which would meet a wide variety of exercise needs, at an affordable price. The mechanics of progressive resistance exercise were now simple and convenient. In addition, much greater standardization was possible. A group of lifters in competition could all use the same barbell with plates added as needed. That meant that they all used a bar with one diameter, one balance, and one "feel." And, in time, this meant precisely standardized dimensions for competition barbells.

Anyone who has lifted both a solid barbell and an adjustable barbell knows the tremendous difference in the feel. The revolving sleeve or even the revolving plates of an adjustable barbell allow one to make quick movements and changes of direction of movement without feeling that the bar may be wrenched from one's grip. I remember vividly my surprise the first time I lifted a solid spherical barbell. I was warming up for an Olympic lifting contest being held at an old Turner club in the Midwest. This was sometime in the early 1960s. Among the array of iron in the warmup room was a solid iron barbell. I picked it up, and found it to be a suitable weight for doing some warmup power cleans and presses. So, I lowered it to the floor and did a power clean. To my consternation my wrists bent back painfully as the barbell reached shoulder level. The momentum of the barbell twisted my wrists well past the point where they were accustomed to stopping on a power clean. I knew then why these unwieldy hunks of iron were not any longer the chosen equipment of lifting.

A less dramatic, but equally impressive experience formed the basis of my regard for the solid kettlebell. While teaching a psychotherapy seminar on a Russian ship, the M.S. Kazatstan, I was delighted to learn that there was a gym aboard. The first time I had a chance, I went off excitedly to work out. What I found was a small room with some exercise mats and several assorted dumbbells and kettlebells. From pictures which I had seen of early strongmen I recognized the kettlebells with some sense of mystique. What I found, upon using them, or, more accurately, trying to use them for some one arm curls and one arm presses, was that they were quite uncomfortable. More than just unwieldy, the handles were difficult to grip as the angle of hold shifted during a curl or press. I understand why kettlebells are relegated to the category of antique equipment.

The solid barbell and kettlebell are items of the past, left along the road of progress as more comfortable, versatile, and efficient equipment emerged. The solid dumbbell has survived, however. Especially in gyms, where a rack of progressively weighted dumbbells is desirable, the solid ones are often found. There is also a safety factor involved. whereas, when a barbell is lifted, the bar is intentionally kept parallel to the floor, when dumbbells are lifted, they are intentionally rotated so that the bars have excursions from parallel to the floor to vertical. This means that collars or clamps must be tightly affixed to both ends of the bars if plates are used, to prevent the plates from sliding off. Solid dumbbells avoid the hazard of falling plates from carelessly applied collars or clamps. Some gyms use adjustable dumbbells which have permanently welded collars, thereby preventing falling weights.

Barbells, too, can have permanently affixed collars, thereby creating a safer piece of equipment, while having the advantage of a rotating sleeve, or at least rotating plates. Many gyms have racks of such barbells in progressive weights. More and more, though, the best gyms provide Olympic or power bars with a large assortment of various sized plates and heavy duty collars.

An interesting side note is that in an occasional advertisement or store display the plates are arranged from smallest to largest and back to smallest. This symmetrical arrangement is reminiscent of the spherical barbell. It looks almost as if someone has sliced the spheres. In fact, I have seen dumbbells whose plates were beveled such that when they were placed on the bars, smallest to largest to smallest, they actually formed spheres. Such arrangements of plates, though not convenient when adjusting barbells, are a reminder of the adjustable barbell's roots.

The adjustable barbell is clearly the quintessence of weightlifting equipment. In its most highly evolved form, the Olympic or power bar, it is balanced and of exactly marked weight. Its balance, its smoothly rotating bar, its precisely located knurling, and its "feel" all contribute to making it the easiest way to lift a given weight. Olympic bars and power bars have a slightly different diameter, the latter being greater, to subtly accommodate those different styles of lifting. Simple in concept, this barbell is evolved and of incredibly versatility.

There are various pieces of equipment which are adjuncts to the barbell, and its smaller cohort the dumbbell. Included are squat racks, power racks, flat benches, incline benches, decline benches, preacher curl benches, etc. All of these are in the service of lifting barbells and dumbbells.

For many years there have been other pieces of equipment which have coexisted with barbells and dumbbells, and served as either adjuncts or alternatives available for variety. These are the various pulley machines -- lat pull, triceps extension, crossover cables, cable row, and so forth -- and calf machines. These simple machines, in their earlier versions, were loaded with barbell plates, and in their current versions have built-in weight stacks with a selector pin for choosing the proportion of the weight stack desired. The calf machine is an easier and more comfortable version of doing toe raises with a barbell on one's back. The lat pull is an alternative to the chinning bar and a weight belt on which barbell plates are hung. The other cable systems simply employ a pulley to change the direction of pull so that one can pull down or pull horizontally or pull at some angle in between, rather than being restricted to pulling or pushing a barbell or dumbbells on a vertical plane against gravity. In essence, these machines do nothing that cannot be done with a barbell, dumbbells, and a chinning bar. They do, however, add interesting variety and some more comfortable alternatives for certain exercises. (Actually, lat pulls and chins do have a subtly different effect, as they involve moving the resistance toward one's stationary body [open chain movement], or moving one's body as the resistance [closed chain movement], respectively.)

These machines, however, are not the ones which represent one side of the free-weights versus machines debate. The machines in the debate are "high tech" machines. The essence of the high tech machine is that it involves moving a lever against an automatically variable resistance. Both of these characteristics are important. First, by having a lever to be moved, the machine requires that a particular motion, for which that particular machine is designed, and only that motion, is used. This allows for relative isolation of the muscle group for which the machine is designed. In other words, recruitment of muscles other than those which the machine is designed to exercise, is minimized. "Cheating" on an exercise is made difficult. Second, the automatically variable resistance accommodates the mechanical advantage of the body. When lifting a barbell or dumbbell the level of difficulty varies throughout the range of motion of the exercise. In lifting parlance, there is a "sticking point." So, the weight lifted is limited by the weight which can be moved through the point of least mechanical advantage. In the zones where there is greater mechanical advantage, the muscle may work very little with that weight. By using an automatically variable resistance, the machine provides more resistance in the zones of greater mechanical advantage and less resistance in the zone of least mechanical resistance. The result -- maximal resistance throughout the full range of motion of the exercise.

Because of this second essential feature of the high tech machines, automatically variable resistance, they are referred to as isokinetic machines. Resistance is automatically varied by several means. Some machines use a cam, some a variable length lever arm, some a hydraulic cylinder, and some a pneumatic cylinder.

The isokinetic machine was invented some years ago. The first Nautilus machine was built in 1948, although Nautilus equipment was not commercially available until 1970. Although many other companies offer isokinetic machines, the Nautilus company has published the most research, done the most advertising, and even set up Nautilus centers, franchised widely. So successful has been ('has been') their campaign that much of the general public at one time knew the name and used it as a common noun. I remember being asked when someone heard I was a lifter, "Do you do Nautilus or barbells?"

That question reflects the "either/or" controversy. Much of this controversy resulted, I believe, from the public claims made by the representatives of Nautilus. Prior to the advent of commercially available Nautilus equipment, there was no debate about free-weights versus machines. After all, the machines which existed before the isokinetic machines were essentially barbell adjuncts, not machines created to replace free-weights. But with Nautilus, the point was different. Arthur Jones, for instance, declared  that, "Instead of trying to fit human muscles to an imperfect tool, the barbell -- Nautilus was an attempt to design perfect tools that would exactly fit the requirements of muscles." Jones was critical of machines which " . . . merely copy the functions of a barbell," saying some rather inflammatory words, namely, that such machines "are now about as practical for the purpose of exercise as a horse is for the purpose of transportation." If this were not sufficient, Jones went on to say that "Nautilus is the ONLY source of 'total' exercise."

During the height of the Nautilus movement, as Nautilus centers were being established throughout the country, a highly accomplished lifter came forward endorsing the equipment. Some time later, a brother team of well known physique stars added their endorsement. The former star claimed great things for Nautilus equipment, giving many the impression that his massive, defined physique and great strength were the products of Nautilus training. [Viator. Mentzer brothers. Endorsement money and lies.]

With all this, Nautilus appeared to many to be the state of the art, and predicted that the barbell would gather dust as it became a relic of the "old," that is, pre-Nautilus days. Other equipment manufacturers boarded the band wagon and emulated Nautilus as closely as patent laws would allow.

So what happened?
Why were free-weights not phased out?

First of all, the lofty claims of Nautilus did not hold up for hardcore lifters. The softcore lifting public liked the machines. They seemed simple to use, convenient, and efficient for producing some quick gains in overall muscle conditioning. Hardcore bodybuilders often reported that they did not experience as complete a pump from the machines as from free-weights. Whether that was an objective fact or not, it reflected a dissenting opinion about the popular machines.

Then came an exposé.

The star, who had early on endorsed Nautilus, stepped forward to announce publicly that he had been paid well to endorse Nautilus and the he had actually built his physique using free-weights. In fact, this man had competed in a Mr. America contest well prior to even using Nautilus equipment. The fact became realized that exclusive Nautilus training had never produced a champion physique. And, obviously, Olympic lifters and powerlifters do the overwhelmingly greatest part of their training on equipment with which they compete, namely the barbell.

What has emerged is the following pattern. Many softcore lifters prefer the machines. As I have said previously, they are safer, easier, and simpler to use than free-weights. The Nautilus training program, for example, has proven to be a moderately efficient way of muscle conditioning for overall strength, for health and other sports. Hardcore lifters, on the other hand, tend to use free weights in the main, with machines as a small, supplementary part of their program. When Nautilus machines are used, they are very rarely followed using the Nautilus training program. For Olympic lifters and powerlifters, the machines have little use, aside from being used as minor adjuncts to the primary free-weight training.

The basic fact is the matter is baldly stated by Daniel P. Riley in Strength Training by the Experts (1977). "The most important consideration . . . is really personal preference. Remember that it is the quality of training that will provide the greatest increases in muscle strength and mass. Significant gains in muscle strength and mass can be obtained by using anything that will overload the muscles."

Part Two: The Lifters

Of particular interest to us, in the context of the present book, is the psychological reason for the personal preference of equipment. Many lifters enjoy variety and therefore use particular equipment for several weeks or months and then shift to different equipment for a similar period. Such shifts in equipment can stimulate the lifter's interest, infusing workouts with new excitement. So, at the time a lifter is freshly using some new equipment he may be very enthusiastic, touting the advantages of that apparatus. But, beyond this transient enthusiasm, there seems to be a personal preference by which lifters gravitate to basic equipment -- barbells, dumbbells, and appurtenant apparati -- or to high tech equipment.

Having described the essential qualities of the basic equipment and the high tech equipment, let's turn to the essential psychological qualities which predispose one to one type of equipment or the other. In order to understand the predisposition, we can look to two competing world views which have been identified. These two alternative visions appear across cultures, and, although the names used to identify them vary from culture to culture, their elements are consistent. As Sam Keen has expressed it (The Cosmic vs. The Rational), in modern times the majority of people have followed the vision which can be named after the Greek god Apollo, whereas a minority have followed the alternate vision which can be identified with the Greek god Dionysus. Earlier writers, including Nietzsche have discussed the Dionysian spirit, and Karen Horney, the psychoanalyst, wrote of the Dionysian and Apollonian approaches to experience.  

It is precisely this Dionysian-Apollonian split which explains, I believe, not only a lifter's preference for equipment, but his style of training. Let me elaborate by first delving into the differences between the two world views. 

These two alternative visions are clearly represented by the deified personalities of Apollo and Dionysus. Apollo was the Greek god of light, moderation, reason, truth, order, balance, and boundaries. Dionysus was the Greek god of wine, excess, fantasy, and metamorphosis. He was the only Greek god whose parents were not both divine. Dionysus was sometimes man's blessing, sometimes his curse, as he offered both freedom and ecstatic joy on the one hand, and savage brutality on the other. In one story, for instance, Dionysus took the form of an angry lion. In another, this god of wine turned a group of women mad, causing them to attack and devour their own children. Dionysus could make people merry, quicken their courage, banish their fear, or he could bring on their destruction though drunkenness. He also taught the world about metamorphosis. In the winter his vines were dark and withered, but with spring his vines sprouted forth to spread and grow, eventually yielding the summer and fall harvests of his grapes. The metamorphosis was dramatic, from apparent deadness to exuberant aliveness an abundance. In the Roman empire, Dionysus was known as Bacchus.

In her discussion of the Apollonian and Dionysian tendencies, Karen Horney stressed the emphasis of mastery and molding in the former, and surrender and drift in the latter. (Shostrom: "Man the Manipulator" 1967) She saw both of these leanings as natural human "tendencies." So, neither is better nor worse in and of itself, and no one is completely Apollonian or Dionysian. A person will exhibit tendencies in one direction or the other at different times. When exhibiting the Apollonian tendency, a person will emphasize being in charge and in control, and making things happen in the way he wishes. The approach is to change the world in the ways I wish. The opposite is the case with the Dionysian tendency. Rather than exerting his will to mold the world, the person disposed toward a Dionysian approach will give in to what is, and allow the world to take him away. This is a surrender of personal will to the will of the world around him. The Apollonian tendency is to conquer the universe, tame the wilds and make this a "better" world. The Dionysian tendency is to get in harmony with the universe, experience the wilds, and come to a relaxed acceptance of the world as it is.

Less poetic and more baldly descriptive of these tendencies are the words "scientist" and "artist." The scientist is more Apollonian in his view and approach to life. Description, understanding, and prediction of the world and its manifestations are the goals of the pure scientist. For the applied scientist, the goal is to use the insights of the pure scientist to control various phenomena of the world. The artist is more oriented around appreciative observation and pleasing representation of the world through various media. Rather than change the world, the artist tries to illuminate and reflect it with an esthetic light. The scientist wants to effect a change in the world. The artist wants to create an esthetic experience of the world. 

Paralleling the terms Apollonian and Dionysian, Carl Jung wrote of the "logos" and "eros" principles. The logos principle is one of objective interest in the world. When one takes an objective view of something, putting aside emotional and personal subjective considerations he is operating in accordance with the logos principle. Historically, in the West, this has been identified more often with a "masculine" orientation. The eros principle is one of psychic relatedness. In other words, this principle is expressed in the subjective, emotional experience of relating to the world. This more intimate mode of experiencing can involve relating to other people, ideas, animals, and even the inanimate world. Jung noted that in the Western view this psychic relatedness is usually seen as "feminine." So, the logos principle is consistent with a Dionysian orientation.

These two world views are discussed in an intriguing way by Robert Pirsig in Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. The subtitle of the book, "an inquiry into values," provides an accurate insight, for the two world views which we are exploring are statements of some rather basic values. The terms which Pirsig uses and "classical understanding" and "romantic understanding." From the classical position, the world is seen as underlying form. From the romantic position the world is seen in terms of immediate experience. These last statements are quite heady, and beg for some both-feet-on-the-ground explanation by example. Bear with me . . . 

Imagine showing a blueprint to two people, one a romantic, the other a classicist. The romantic would see it as a thing in itself. He would primarily see lines, geometric forms, numbers, symbols. The romantic would tend to see this blueprint as rather uninteresting. For the person of a classical bent, however, some interest would likely be aroused. He or she would recognize that the blueprint is representational. The lines and shapes and symbols represent something else, some underlying form. The romantic sees a blueprint, the classicist sees a representation of a house.

Pirsig elaborated beyond this basic difference between the person of classical and the person of romantic inclination. The mode of the romantic tends to be inspirational, imaginative, creative, and intuitive. Feelings take priority over facts. Esthetic considerations are rated highly. The person in the classical mode proceeds in an orderly fashion using reason and laws. More intellectual than emotional in orientation, facts take priority and esthetic considerations are downgraded. The classical mode seeks to control, not merely intuit the meaning of something.

Pirsig correctly identified that persons tend to orient themselves through one of these two modes, and consequently not appreciate people who have chosen the other mode. It is often this difference in orientation which results in people's misunderstanding of each other. This if reflected in many cases when someone says, truthfully, "I can't understand why anyone would do that."The fact is, "although motorcycle riding is romantic, motorcycle maintenance is purely classic." (Pirsig, p.67). The romantic mode is Dionysian, and the classical mode is Apollonian.

Additional insights into the Apollonian-Dionysian split have been offered by Sam Keen. Referring to the former as the "rational" view and the latter as the "cosmic" view, he identifies them as left-brain and right-brain functions, respectively. (Studies of hemispheric specialization have suggested that the left love processes data by sequential analysis of abstract, symbolic "bits." This involves a logical, temporal, cause and effect approach. The right lobe, in contrast, processes data in a holistic, integrative way, providing recognition of patterns. It may be primarily involved in imaging and emotional expression.) The rational view values work above play, whereas the cosmic view takes the opposite priority, valuing play above work. If work and play are the contents which differ, respectively, within the value systems of the rational view and the cosmic view, then the styles are also different. From the rational view, it is efficiency which is sought. In the cosmic view it is ecstasy. Efficient work versus ecstatic play define the poles of the rational view-cosmic view continuum.

I hope I have provided an accurate, precise, and efficient understanding of the Apollonian and Dionysian orientations, for those of you who are, yourselves, Apollonian in your world view. For those of a more Dionysian persuasion, I hope to have provided an esthetically pleasing image and inspirational picture with which you can feel yourself relate. A summary is offered below:

Apollonian and Dionysian Orientations

Apollonian - mastery and molding. Scientist.

Dionysian - surrender and drift. Artist.

Logos - objective interest. "Masculine."

Eros - psychic relatedness. "Feminine."

Classical - 

order

reason

law

control

underlying form

facts predominant

unadorned

intellectual

Romantic - 

inspirational

imaginative

creative

intuitive

immediate experience

feeling predominant

esthetic

emotional

Rational - 

efficiency

work

left-brain

Cosmic - 

ecstacy

play

right-brain

Now, how do people of these orientations approach lifting weights? Their differing world views are, I believe, clearly expressed in their training approaches. 

Case in Point: Rocky Balboa and Ivan Drago

In the movie "Rocky IV," the Apollonian and Dionysian approaches to training were beautifully and graphically depicted. It was not hardcore lifting which was involved, to be sure, but it was hard, serious training for competition which included strength building. In the film, Rocky Balboa trained from a Dionysian orientation. The contrast between his Dionysian inspired training and his opponent's Apollonian guided training is most explicit.

Visualize the two training scenes. Rocky trained outdoors and in a barn. His opponent, Ivan Drago, trained in a high-tech laboratory/gym. In order to develop endurance, Rocky ran through knee deep snow, jumped rope, and ran up a mountain. Ivan ran on an indoor track, stepped on a climbing machine, and ran on a treadmill. During all of these he was wired with electrodes in order to feed physiological data into a computer for analysis and input to his trainers. Rocky worked his abdominals by doing situps while hanging from the barn loft by his knees, his trainer holding his lower legs. He also did standing twists while holding a heavy ox yoke on his back. Ivan did abdominal crunches on a machine. While Rocky used a speed bag, Ivan used a machine which looked like the pedals of a bicycle, rotating them rapidly with his hands. For leg strength, Rocky made himself a beast of burden, pulling a sled full of people along a snow covered road, and carrying a heavy timber on his back. In his laboratory/gym, Ivan used a sled machine. Rocky used chin-ups to work his back and biceps. Ivan sat at a curling machine, carefully isolating his biceps. Rocky strengthened his upper body by chopping down a large tree, cutting it into logs with a hand saw, and splitting the logs into kindling with an axe. He rigged an overhead pulley with a net full of rocks on one end for doing "cable" triceps extensions. And, finally, he loaded a two wheeled cart with people and did presses by the wagon tongues. Meanwhile, Ivan was performing heavy power cleans and military presses with a gleaming, chrome-plated Olympic bar.

Surrounding Rocky was a motley crew of trainers, including the crude but likeable imp of a man, Pauly. They joked, kidded, and fussed with each other. In contrast, the training laboratory of Ivan Drago was peopled by serious, rather coldly intellectual people wearing while lab coats and wielding clipboards. The societies of the two training facilities showed marked contrast.

Not only were the facilities, equipment, and training personnel in contrast, the training attitudes were also widely disparate. For Ivan and his trainers, training was a serious job to be performed with a scientific efficiency. Training proceeded without emotion, aimed at the molding of a fighting machine. This was strictly "masculine," the linear pursuit of a goal of mastery. Rocky, although committed to defeating the Russian, took a more playful approach. He was emotional, feeling the remorse of his friend's death in the ring at the hands of Ivan Drago. He felt hatred for, and fear of the Russian machine. As ironic as it sounds, at first, Rocky's approach was more a manifestation of the "feminine." Both his training and his relationships with his trainers were thoroughly infused with emotion. Rocky was a colorful, feeling, playful human. He trained through inspiration, guided by his intuition and the feedback of his immediate experience. His physical pain and exhaustion were his guides, not digital readouts from a biofeedback computer. His entire quest was that of a romantic, giving it his best shot in the face of uncertainty, and surrendering to whatever outcome.

In Rocky's corner was the power of the eros principle. He was the personification of the romantic artist. Ivan Drago, the classical scientist, took his power from the principal of logos.

From the graphic example given to us by the folk hero, Rocky, we can recognize the manifestations of Apollonian and Dionysian orientations in the world of lifting weights. First, in terms of style of training, the lifter with an Apollonian view would tend to look for the latest scientifically based routine, and follow it carefully. This lifter wants results, wants to define a goal clearly and move toward that goal with maximum efficiency. From the training research come the principles of scientific training. So, this lifter makes those principles into rules, and trains by the rules. He wants to be master of his body and to mold it into the desired form. Training is serious, and is undertaken as hard work to be done. When not lifting, considerable time may be devoted to studying the relevant books and latest studies. This lifter eagerly open the newest publication to see what the latest research shows, what the latest training method is, or what exercise is being hailed as highly efficient. In the gym he can be seen between sets recording in detail in a notebook his  sets, reps, weights, results, degree of difficulty, diet, rest, etc. 

Liking the bring order and precision into the lifting endeavor, the Apollonian lifter will tend to keep careful records of progress. For the competitive lifter this means recording maximum lifts. For the bodybuilder it means recording carefully taken measurements and studying photos. The measurements may be entered into formula ti derive an overall score, such the Willoughby Anthropomorphic Sex Differentiation Formula (The Complete Guide to Muscular Measurements, Willoughby and Weaver, 1947). The improvement of such a formula derived score may be the training goal.

Just as the lifter of Apollonian vision studies the books and research for newest breakthrough in exercise methods, he will also seek out nutritional advice. This lifter will tend to strictly follow a precisely defined diet. Calorie charts and food scales carefully calibrated in grams become mealtime companions. And, no food tastes too bad or is too exotic if it is endorsed by a trainer or champion. In his larder, food supplements abound.

In terms of aerobic exercise, this lifter will gravitate towards a high tech machine which may give a digital readout or a computerized voice calling out current pulse rate, calories being used per unit of time, adherence to pre-selected aerobic training range, elapsed time, and time remaining. Apollonian oriented lifters are likely to be familiar with punching in their data on a computer keyboard as they mount a Lifecycle machine and start pedaling. They delight at the sense of control and precision afforded by the high tech machines which they pedal, row, tread, or climb.

By now the trend is clear. It will come as no surprise that with regard to lifting equipment itself, it is the Apollonian orientation which leads one to high tech machines. The developers of these machines and the instructors who have these available proclaim their efficiency in muscle conditioning and growth. These promises of efficiency mean maximum results for one's efforts, based on the use of scientifically designed and tested equipment. Beyond these verbalized promises, the machines, themselves, present an image of state of the art technology. The epitome of this image, at this time, is the machine which monitors the lifting and "coaches" either through an electronic readout, a computer monitor, or a computer generated voice. All of this appeals to those who have an Apollonian vision.


For the lifter who takes a Dionysian view, the lifting experience is quite different. Such a lifter tends toward "instinct" training. Although this term is frequently used, actually it is a misnomer. An instinct is an innate impulse or propensity. What we are talking about, here, is not inborn. When "instinct" is used to describe a training approach, what is meant is training guided by immediate experience and intuition. Rather than following a prescribed exercise routine, the "instinctive" trainer does what feels right. With no predetermined exercises, sets, repetitions, or weights, he enters the gym to lift as his inner voice says. He will intuit what to do, and allow his intuition to be informed by the feel of the lifting as it happens. "Today, I feel like working my legs, hard. I think I'll start with squats . . . That weight feels light; I bet I can get 10 more pounds . . . I'm tired; that's enough for today. I'll be sore tomorrow. Good workout!" This is the way the process of working out is for the man of Dionysian view. Workouts are not by the book and they are not pre-set in stone. No two workouts will be alike. Workouts evolve as they go along, guided by hunches, intuitive impulses, and the feel of the weights. This training approach tends to be playful. The play may be hard, but nonetheless it is play for this lifter. Given this playful quality, and the willingness to follow hunches and intuitive impulses, some workouts unfold as highly imaginative and creative. Exciting discoveries can be made. "I wonder what would happen if I superset donkey calf raises and lunges. I have a hunch that might work for me. I'll try it."

The Dionysian inspired lifter may come to experience a mystical quality to his workout. Focusing on the moment to moment experience of lifting brings one into an intense and intimate relationship with one's self and between one's self and the exercise equipment. Objective realities -- poundages, repetitons, goals -- fade into a pale background as the physical sensations of the moment leap into a bright, vivid figure of perceptual awareness. The here-and-now experience -- the heaving of one's chest in grabbing for air, the burn in one's muscles, the heat in one's entire body, the overall sense of strain, the sense of focus and singleness of purpose of getting the weight up -- can be one of ecstasy. There is certain esthetic pleasure realized here. The bar and I, in motion, our dance, create an esthetic experience. The bar and I come into an intimate relationship, a level of psychic relatedness emerges. In this moment, emotion is strong and I surrender to an experience beyond words.

I have had the experience of ecstasy and surrender often, while lifting. Most often it has been while performing a maximum or near maximum lift. As best I can describe it, it is as if the rest of the world fades away, and all that matters is the immediate experience of myself with the bar. We are, for a short time, the center of the cosmos. Barbell-and-I are one, in motion. (I will discuss this further later on, where I will address the use of a trance state in the enhancement of lifting performance.)

In expressing the product of lifting, the bodybuilder of Dionysian persuasion will prefer to pose. It is the free-form display of physique which thrills him, not objective measures of the tape, body calipers, and scales. Those are cold. This bodybuilder wants something warmer and more inspiring of emotional response. In a phrase, this bodybuilder seeks an emotionally moving esthetic experience.

The training table of the lifter inspired by the Dionysian view is not in accord with any precisely planned diet. It is, however, met with a hearty appetite. Just as this lifter approaches his workouts intuitively, he also eats with intuition as a guide. Hunches and cravings dictate the timing and content of meals.

For aerobic exercise, the lifter of Dionysian vision is most likely to jog, swim, or play some active game. Rather than gravitating to high tech aerobic equipment, he will do something more playful, preferably outdoors. Again, the "feel" of the activity will be the feedback for deciding when enough is enough.

The obvious conclusion to this portrait of the lifter of Dionysian orientation is a preference for free-weights. It is free-weights which allow the variety of lifting this which this lifter seeks. The number of exercises and variations which are possible with an adjustable barbell and dumbbells truly staggers well as creatively challenges the imagination. Free-weights offer freedom and almost limitless possibilities, just what the Dionysian lifter needs to indulge his playful, intuitive, imaginative approach to lifting.

If the lifter of Apollonian vision seeks an efficient, scientifically based training with high tech equipment, his brothers of Dionysian vision seek the romantic experience of quick lifts in the backyard on a sunny day near its end, followed by a quart of milk. Both visions are valid, both "work." Either vision, extreme and not blended with the other view, has limitations. Both the hyper-serious work of the extreme Apollonian and the too casual play of the Dionysian fall short of the balanced, integrated world view which would best guide the lifter to realize his potential. Both efficiency AND ecstasy have value in human experience.

Persons often tend to pursue one or the other of these two visions. This leads to a misunderstanding of lifters of the other view, and, perhaps, a lack of appreciation of the value of the other view. To the lifter of Apollonian vision, the lifter disposed to the Dionysian view may seem to lack seriousness, to be frivolous, to lack in technical knowledge, and to be inefficient, if not ineffective, in his use of antiquated equipment and routines. From the opposite view, the lifters of Apollonian orientation may seem too serious, dull, too rigid  in adherence to plans and routines, and too uptight about efficient results from those ridiculous machines that they strap themselves into, to perform strict, mechanical exercises lacking in romantic appeal.

Perhaps bodybuilding is in essence a pursuit of a Dionysian vision. Dionysus, as god of metamorphosis, instructed mortals in the miracle of transformation. He also offered instruction in fantasy. The bodybuilder pursues a vision. It is his fantasy to undergo dramatic metamorphosis, to evolve from physical ordinariness or a withered condition to a dramatic extra-ordinariness of physique, a condition of exuberant aliveness and physical abundance. In this incredible metamorphosis the bodybuilder follows the lead of Dionysus. Remember, though, Dionysus not only could usher in a state of merriment and heightened courage, but he could bring men to destruction through their drunkenness. So it is with the bodybuilder. Dionysus was god of excess. Too often, the bodybuilder becomes drunk with his sprouting forth and runs headlong down a path of excess. The results can be physical grotesqueness, through excessive muscular hypertrophy, permanent injury, or even death. These results can accrue from the foolish use of steroids, the contemporary grape of destruction. It is at the point of joyous ecstasy and growth that Apollo is welcome. He, being the god of reason, moderation, and limits, can temper the basically Dionysian pursuit of bodybuilding and bring a balance.

So, if bodybuilding is basically a response to the call of Dionysus, then Apollonian values serve to keep reasonable order in the answer to that call. A balanced world view allows merriment and metamorphosis, within the light of reason, exuberance, and abundance, within the boundaries of balance . . . ecstasy with efficiency.