Beans

There is something special about beans. To me, anyway. Others have not seemed to grasp or appreciate the true excellence of beans. Many are perfectly happy to consume canned beans. Canned! Beans submerged in some oil-based, salt-infused glop, surrounded by aluminum or tin. Can you imagine anything more dreadful than a a bean that has spent its life in such poor conditions?

The true marvel of beans is that such a powerful source of flavor and nutrients can remain dried for so long without losing hardly any of its particular and excellent qualities. Try drying a tomato and report back with what you get; it won’t be pretty. Beans are a perfect balance of water and fruit (in the technical sense). Their chief offering for me is their protein density.

As a man who works out incessantly, protein is the most important part of my diet, bar none. Without protein, I would wither away into a shriveled excuse for a human. Protruding bones would become a problem with such immediacy that I dare not even consider such ramifications. Instead, I eat beans.

I also lift beans. They provide such a consistent and convenient source of dead weight that I have moved entirely from metal weights and replaced them with bags of beans. My current deadlifting bench is simply a long bar with two bags, one on either end of the bar. As I warm up and desire to lift more, I simply scoop more beans from my (extensive) stockpile into the bags and then I am in business.

Today, I am working on breaking my personal record. I can feel the power of the beans coursing through my muscles. No protein is as effective as bean protein, I can assure you of that. The bar feels good in my grip. I lift it up, and my strength unexpectedly fails me. I can’t get the bar back up. It starts to press on my chest. I call out to the beans for help, but they are silent. I can feel pain in my ribs now. It’s hard to breathe. I realize too late that I am not worthy of the beans. They are punishing me. I let go of the bar, and surrender to the will of the beans.