Div bb konkurrencer


Johnny Bravo
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Kæft det ser kanon godt ud. :devil:

Nu ved jeg ikke særligt meget om BB, men den fysik der, er da klasser over hvad man ser idag. hvis vi altså ikke bare kigger på overall masse. :devil:

Sådan en fysik ville jeg ikke have noget imod at have, hvis altså ikke lige det betød at jeg skulle være sådan en dværg som mange BB'ere er på under 170cm :bigsmile:

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Kæft det ser kanon godt ud. :devil:

Nu ved jeg ikke særligt meget om BB, men den fysik der, er da klasser over hvad man ser idag. hvis vi altså ikke bare kigger på overall masse. :devil:

Vi kan hurtigt blive enige om, at det er et meget bedre look end det profferne fremviser i dag. :smile:

Sådan en fysik ville jeg ikke have noget imod at have, hvis altså ikke lige det betød at jeg skulle være sådan en dværg som mange BB'ere er på under 170cm :bigsmile:

Så vidt jeg husker var Andreas Munzer omkring 176 cm. :smile:

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Kæft det ser kanon godt ud. :devil:

Nu ved jeg ikke særligt meget om BB, men den fysik der, er da klasser over hvad man ser idag. hvis vi altså ikke bare kigger på overall masse. :devil:

Sådan en fysik ville jeg ikke have noget imod at have, hvis altså ikke lige det betød at jeg skulle være sådan en dværg som mange BB'ere er på under 170cm :bigsmile:

Klippet med Bob Paris er hvad jeg vil mene er 100% perfekt fysik!!!

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Lidt info om Andreas Munzer's død fra bogen "Muscle; A Writer's Trip Through A Sport With No Boundaries" af Jon Hotten.

The Munich Andi would play the zugzwang. He hit some heavy cycles: he injected two ampoules of testosterone a day; he took the oral steroids Halotestin and Anabol; he combined them with Masteron and Parabolan; he used between four and 24 units of the growth hormone STH. Steroids aided muscle repair and general recovery; they allowed him to train with greater intensity. He combined different steroid types to maximum effect. He found that STH, the synthetic growth hormone, mimicked human growth hormone; it made everything grow - muscles, bones, organs, tissues. He ate 6-8,000 calories a day to nourish his muscles. He used insulin to stimulate his metabolism and churn the calories more quickly; he used at least five aspirin tablets each morning to thin his blood and help with the pain of training; he used ephedrine and Captagon to increase his intensity on the weights.

Fifteen weeks or so from competition, he would begin a rigorous diet designed to reduce his body fat. He would come down to 2,000 calories a day. In the days and hours before a show he used Aldactone and Lasix, both diuretics, to rid himself of the last of his water. Most pros would get close to competition shape once or twice a year. Anything else demanded too much; Andi maintained a reputation for always being in shape, or close to it.

The stomach pains had begun some months before Andi went to Columbus, Ohio, for the 1996 Arnold Classic. At first it was just more pain, and pain was the currency of muscle. Andi paid it little heed. It dug in and nestled down with all the other pain: the agonies of training, the banal deprivations of dieting down, the pulls, nicks, strains, jags and twists of the gym. But it kept coming back and its payload was different. A connoisseur of pain like Andi would soon have been able to tell. He would have been able to recognise it and rank it as something special in the pain game, something more exotic than the stuff he usually bore. He began to mention it to friends at the gym. He tried some health cures that would strengthen his stomach lining. Perhaps if Andi had quit training then, if he had turned away from the withering deprivations of another round of competition and stopped juicing he might have survived. Instead, the boy from Pack made himself ready to compete in front of the boy from Thal, in front of his hero.

After his sixth place at the Arnold Classic on 2 March 1996, Andi's mood remained low. 'Man, why don't you laugh?' a German official had said. 'You're the best white guy behind five Negroes.' Andi was never going to laugh at that. Best white guy. Best German speaker. All of the pain and deprivation, all of the gym seminars and pain-filled nights for those worthless epithets.

On the morning of 13 March, Andi's stomach pains became intense. His gut was swollen and hard. His bill had come in. He was fairly sure that this time he couldn't meet it. The debt was too big. The agony grew.

He was taken to hospital. Doctors there diagnosed the bleed, but could not prevent it continuing. He was transferred to the University Clinic. At 7pm, surgeons decided to operate to stop the bleeding inside Andi's stomach. Andi came through the operation, but his problems had multiplied catastrophically. His blood was viscous and slow-moving. His potassium levels were excessively high. He had been dehydrated by the diuretics he used in the days before his last competitions. His liver was melting. A post-mortem would find that it had dissolved almost completely. Andi's body went into shock. After his liver failed, his kidneys did too. He was offered a blood transfusion, but it was too late. Andi's heart held out for a while - he had always had a big heart - but by morning Munzer had joined the ranks of the bodybuilding dead.

Arnold Schwarzenegger sent a wreath from Hollywood to Andi's grave in Styria. The message was simple. It read: 'A last greeting to a friend.'

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