CHAPTER I THE BODY AS A MACHINE

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Any young man who understands the simple facts concerning his body and the laws of human energy, should be able to be as strong in body and nerves at fifty as he is at twenty-five years of age.

If he is strong in body and nerves at fifty he has the increased brain power of experience and work, and only think of the force he has then to utilize for the next twenty years.

This is a practical idea and not a theory or a statement of exceptional cases.

But if this is so, why have not our parents been able to be boys with us instead of old men at fifty? Because they did not understand; never had the plain points shown them; physicians have not always considered this side of boyhood development, and because physiology as taught in the public schools was not that physiology needed by youths and boys.

We shall not here bother with the old style and schoolbook physiology. I am going to present to you the simple, common-sense facts about the body and how it must be handled to get the best out of it.

If you have an automobile, the first thing you do is to understand it; its different working parts, how they are dependent upon each other, how much fuel is needed and how applied, what will make the engine run smoothly, what will injure it and what kind of usage is necessary to keep it always in good running order, what will cause it to break down and become an old rattling thing and send it to the scrap heap.

The finest built machine is of no value if any of the parts which have gone into it are faulty; it will break down when a strain comes. It is just so with man; for when you really come to understand the machinery within you, you will realize that you are the most delicate and at the same time toughest piece of mechanism ever produced. Muscular power, brain force, will, mental ability, all depend upon the PHYSICAL condition of man—the parts and condition of the machine in him.

The higher power in us that makes the human body a mere medium for development we shall not here say much about, but so related is it to the body itself, that a poorly adjusted or diseased body will affect this higher power, the soul, the conscience, the morals of the man. That is, a diseased or weak body—not merely muscular weakness, but a general weakness due to neglect of nature’s laws—will show a weak will, a lack of determination and a further falling away from a high moral standard—in other words make a failure of a man.

But why should this be so? Is man to be blamed for being physically weak, to be punished because he has not that full strength of body that others have? Yes; I think so. But suppose he inherits a weak body, inherits disease? Is he to be blamed for something over which he has no control? Not exactly that, for there is only one disease you can inherit, and that is a punishment for your parents’ or grandparents’ sins—or in most cases, ignorance.

When you thoroughly understand your own body, the little tendencies to weakness or predisposition to certain diseases can all be overcome. The distressing effects of venereal diseases seen in children whose parents have been ignorant of the facts you will be given in this book, have been a blessing to mankind, insomuch as you can all avoid them after the knowledge concerning them and your body is yours.

You see, what I mean is that you will possess knowledge your parents did not possess. In such a grand position the future men and women—your children—will be started right. And so will you if you heed and absorb what I shall tell you.

Big muscles do not necessarily mean strength, but to be strong one must have well developed muscles.

Seems an odd statement; doesn’t it?

A man may inherit big bones to which are attached big muscles. The fibres of these muscles may be coarse, inelastic and under control of a slow motor—a sluggish nervous system. Just as you may have a big motor car, big frames and running gear, but under-powered.

Now remember that all real muscular power originates in the nervous system and brain. If the nervous system and brain are not in perfect condition, the full power of the muscles can never be utilized any more than you can get the full power out of your big car if the cylinders are too small or so weak in construction that you do not dare to run them at full speed.

This is one reason why men born with big frames and large muscles are not always the strong men. Frequently these men break down in the prime of life. Also during their active lives they really never get all their power in use. I consider such men unfortunate in that they do not possess the knowledge of their condition, so they neglect in early life the necessary rules and habits which, if heeded would bring them to old age in full possession of their natural strength.

The weakling who realizes his failings and knows how to correct and care for them, is more often the strong and healthy man in middle and later life. This fact teaches us one of the great laws of nature; that is that we cannot for a day neglect our body; the born strong man does, he never watches or cleans his big machine—it goes to rust and wears out in parts.

These strong men as youths, from the mere fact of having big, hawser-like muscles controlled by a slow-moving force, do not have the incentive to build up active muscles nor the energy to train the nervous mechanism controlling muscular activity. The result is that such a man’s muscles remain coarse fibered, fatty, bulky, and respond slowly to the motor centers of the brain. Moreover, they feel in such perfect health that they are careless about their habits and throw away a lot of energy that the man who is building up strength takes care of—saves for future use and material.

A youth who desires to build muscular strength goes about it carefully and slowly. Remember that all staying powers, brain or muscle, must be built up slowly. The tough and hardy oak does not grow like the weak poplar—quickly. Its growth is steady, regular and slow, but in the end it is powerful, long lived and richly reproductive. Make haste slowly is one of the fundamental laws of nature.

Brain and nervous system always come first in starting to build muscular power that is to last and be always at your command. The basis of power depends upon the rapidity with which the muscles respond to mental impulses. Properly developed muscles are finely-fibered, and react instantly to the impulse of the motor cells of the brain—the cells which tell the muscles to shoot out at once. Now let anything such as alcohol, tobacco, loss of sleep or immoral habits, fasten on the youth and all attempts to get the full strength out of muscles, no matter how big they are, will be useless. The reason is that the brain cells have been affected—they cannot act as they should and so the muscles cannot respond to the impulse. This is the cause of so many first-class boxers taking the final count. Success has made them careless; they neglect the rules of the physiologic game, they drink a little, smoke and indulge in other habits which affect their nervous system. They go on the stage breathing the foul and poisonous atmosphere while exhibiting, are necessarily late to bed and while still keeping up their MUSCULAR training neglect the fact that every day they are injuring their nervous motility. It is so little noticed that no attention is paid to the matter. But when it comes to a battle after such a career—even if careful training has been done weeks before the contest—the effect is shown, and down the champion goes before a less experienced boxer, one not so strong in the muscles but one whose full brain and nervous force has remained uncontaminated. Then, sad to relate, THIS champion goes the same way.

So you see that mere gross muscular structure is valueless—except it is needed for daily labor, where it exists as mere animal automatism—unless it is under the immediate control of a highly-organized nervous system free from disease and abuse.

So delicate is this nervous element of the body in getting the muscles to respond, that I have tested hundreds of athletes—including myself—by a very sensitive instrument which shows the response of the muscles to the condition of the brain cells. A youth who has lived a perfect life—physiologically speaking—is kept from one half of his night’s sleep. The next day he is tested and there is a difference shown in the rapidity of muscular response. The difference in a tenth of a second in a blow makes all the difference between a champion and a loser, and this tenth of a second can be brought about by the loss of one night’s rest. How must it be then when the youth has lost several, or been breathing foul air with heavily working lungs?

The extreme muscular development seen in those who pose on the stage and before the camera, while marvelous to the sight, is in reality of little practical use. Such muscles are not developed through normal exercises, but gain their prominence by being contracted and expanded through mental concentration on the muscle itself, not on any work that the muscle should be made to perform. Under this fad form of “physical culture” the levers which the muscles should lift and lower are kept immovable, the muscles themselves do no work, the fibers only being caused to swell and shrink.

Take the “development” of the biceps, for instance. This muscle is intended to flex the forearm, attachments being on the upper arm and shoulder and the insertions in the upper part of the lower arm, making a perfect leverage. Now, in this false “physical culture” system the arm is held semi-flexed and rigid and the muscle made to rise and fall, no tension being put upon its attachments. The result is a development of the center of the muscle, but a development of a mere shape, not the development of the power of lifting. The attachments are not developed or strengthened; they remain thin; hence, to the spectator in the audience, the center of the bulking mass of biceps looms up as a powerful organ of force—it is simply an artificial lump.

This false method of “physical culture” also squeezes out the little amount of fat that the muscle should bed in for ease and nourishment, and this further accentuates its size when illumined by a spot light against a black background.

Big chests do not necessarily mean big lung power, but one must have a capacious chest to have great lung power.

Another odd statement? Not exactly.

The average man does not use in daily work much more than half his lung power-capacity. There remain in the lower portion of his lungs thousands of little air cells, which stay practically closed in ordinary breathing. When a man is called upon to run a long distance he soon finds himself in distress, has “a stitch in his side.” This slight pain is caused by the effort made by the air to get into these closed cells. It is the forcing open of these reserve cells that produces the “stitch in the side.” When these cells become active and take up the extra air needed, the distress ceases and the man gets his “second wind.”

Now, it can readily be seen that the greater the chest capacity the greater the reserve force. As it is in the muscle of the “physical culture” man so it is in the chest development of the same class—an unnatural condition. These latter possess, by constant deep breathing, forcibly inhaling and exhaling, a large chest. But there is no reserve force; all the cells are constantly filled. The chest development is good to look upon, but we must remember that the owner of such a chest has no reserve power—no extra breathing space to call upon when most needed. He has reached his limit at the start—a condition fatal to athletic work. A condition injurious to the man’s future health, for there are many times in illness and in emergencies when he will need some reserve force to fall back upon. It is like taking a journey and spending all your money at the start—when you need some, it is not there.

Athletes are healthy, not because they are athletes, but because all healthy individuals are athletes; not necessarily competitors in games or strivers after honors, but persons who enjoy outdoor living and breathing the fresh red-blood giving air.

But there are so many mistakes made by youths and boys who strive to become athletes before their body machinery is properly adjusted, that much harm has been done by overtraining and a misunderstanding of what really constitutes a healthy man.

Americans have absorbed much of the energy in the world, but not all its wisdom. Too many of our athletic instructors at the schools have tried to turn out athletes instead of strong men and women.

When we read in the daily papers of the collapse of a celebrated athlete, or the breaking down during training of a young aspirant for honors on the cinder path, we naturally surmise that fundamental knowledge of the physiology of the muscular mechanism of the human body is either submerged by the overpowering desire to make a record or is totally absent among certain trainers and their pupils.

The want of wisdom concerning man and his body is the cause of many sad conditions existing to-day among formerly strong and healthy young men. A comprehensive idea of the physiology of growth, of the physiologic and chemic relations of strength and endurance to age and condition, would be of great value to a large number of old individuals—not old in years, but old in vessels and tissues—who strive to put an unusual strain on their weak arteries, as well as to the youth whose central nervous system is often permanently injured by over-exertion in attempting to make records placed by carefully trained and intelligent athletes.

Let us take those Marathon runs as an example. Two years ago I witnessed the real Marathon—that is, the great one in this country—the Boston event. This run is a nerve-racking, lung-pulling one of twenty-six miles up many steep and long hills. Among the large number of contestants were a boy of about sixteen and a man somewhere in the forties.[1] To allow such starters was a great mistake—especially in the boy’s case. There were physicians at the start to examine into the condition of the runners, but what doctor could tell off-hand of the past habits, inherited faults in the bodily mechanism or system of training these various contestants possessed? There was only one reasonable course to take—that is, to withhold their sanction to the starting of those whose years had not fully developed the bodily functions, and of those whose habits had brought a strain on the valves of the heart.

[1] Since my criticism and explanation in the magazines, the Committee allow no youths under eighteen years to run in the event.

If we were all Indians, having been placed at birth out in the open and lived without clothes until puberty placed a loin cloth on us, accustomed every day to run and tramp, developing the different organs of the body harmoniously and gradually until they all reached their full power and held in reserve extra power, then these runs of twenty and more miles would not injure us. But, as it is, they are of no benefit and in many cases injurious. Young men who spend hours indoors, who have worn clothing since birth, been prevented from using the greatest breathing organ next to the lungs,—the skin,—who train for this event and then step back to our civilized life of houses, furnaces, trolleys and clothing, are not fitted for these great strains on organs which have been unused to them.

The human body is a wonderful piece of mechanism, which not only renews itself constantly, but whose strength and endurance and capacity for more work increase with increased use up to the point at which use becomes abuse. At what time and under what pressure this danger-line is reached depends upon the individual. However, the approach to the danger-line is governed in all cases by fixed and immutable laws.

The athlete must always bear in mind that the length of time a muscle cell can continue to work will depend upon the rapidity with which the energy-holding explosive compounds are formed by the cell protoplasm and the waste products are secreted. In other words, the capital must not be expended at a greater rate than it can be replaced. If it is expended at a greater rate fatigue commences, and a continuance of this expenditure results in physical bankruptcy.

It is simply the case of the automobile over again. To run smoothly and continuously there must be fuel steadily supplied and the exhaust—the waste products—cast off, leaving no residue to clog up the engine. But you watch your fuel tank and see that it is well supplied, for you know the consequences if the fuel runs out—if you run your engine up to the last drop.

To use up no more fuel in the body than the body will replace, is the secret of athletic success. To go beyond this point means injury—often injury that a life time can never repair. This is one reason why sprinters who have made records succumb early in life to disease or ill health. They have over-heated their human machinery, and the worn parts can never run completely smooth again.

How is this fuel that is being used up in the body replaced?

The muscle is continually undergoing change of material. The minute substances which make up the muscle, and whose very actions keep it alive, are being constantly cast off, fresh substances taking their place. The cast-off material is the fatigue poison. And it is a poison. Inject it into a dog and he will soon die. Without muscle rest, this dead poisonous stuff cannot be replaced fast enough by the new products, and the result is an impoverished capital of force elements. This does not apply only to the muscle in active use up to this point, but to all muscles of the body.

The energy products of the food are delivered up to the muscle by the blood, and this fluid picks up and carries away the cast-off substances of the muscle. These fatigue products are only gradually eliminated from the blood.

In the youth these poisonous products are cast off much more rapidly than in the full grown man. Also they are not so rapidly manufactured. But right here lies a danger point—the youth is not warned in time and often goes beyond the point where the off-castings are entirely eliminated and some remain stored up in his system. Then his nervous system suffers and the trouble goes on unrecognized until it is too late.

Another thing may happen. In the youth the fatigue poison may be thrown off quicker than the good material can take its place, hence such an athlete—generally a runner—will fall from sheer exhaustion of the muscular mechanism—perhaps ruined for life.

To keep on the right side of the danger-line in exercise, the muscle must have short intervals of rest. Nature so well understood the proneness of man not to heed advice that she placed the action of one muscle beyond his control. This muscle is so constructed, internally adjusted, that it has its regular periods of rest, and only in disorder of the body can its expenditure be raised beyond its means. This great and wonderful muscle is the heart.

However, there are certain conditions having their origin in the will and the excitement of mental forces, where the heart is pushed beyond its self-control. Such cases sometimes occur in college boat races—the four-mile races. It is not so much the mere muscular efforts of the contestants as it is the intense mental excitement accompanying the effort. No youth of a highly-strung, nervous temperament should row in these races—no matter what his muscular strength is.

The heart, though making contractions at the rate of seventy-two times a minute, is able to continue its work without fatigue throughout the life of the individual. Each contraction of this wonderful muscle is followed by an interval of rest, during which the cells recuperate. Push the heart-beats to a very rapid rate and we approach the danger-line at which fatigue products cannot be replaced by fresh cells; the intervals of rest are not sufficient. The same conditions exist in every muscle. This is the reason why we often see immediate or ultimate collapse at the finish of a four-mile boat race or a quarter-mile run. Such a collapse may be followed by irremediable loss of health.

You should remember all through your life that each member of the body, in the very act of living, produces poison to itself. When this poison accumulates faster than it can be thrown off, which always occurs unless the muscle can have an interval of rest, then will come fatigue, which is only another expression for poisonous infection—real, genuine poison. If the muscle is given an interval of rest, so that the cell can give off its waste product to keep pace with the new productions, the muscle will then liberate energy for a long time. This latter condition is what we call endurance. When you say a boy has long endurance it simply means that all his organs are in perfect working order; that they repair as soon as they waste. Such a condition kept up means a long life and a healthy one. And you can all obtain this state, as I shall later on show you.

The power and endurance of the human machine are limited according to our understanding of the above facts. But another important bit of knowledge is necessary to have if we wish to avoid ruining our physical energy: that is, to recognize the necessity of starting the human machine slowly. Like any other ponderous and intricate machine, the body requires time to get in harmonious working order. What would you think of an engineer who started his engine off with a jump at high speed? What would happen to a big engine if the throttle were pulled wide open at the instant of starting?

The brain, nerves, heart and muscles must be given some warning of the work they are expected, collectively, to perform. Ignorance of this fact has broken down many a young man who aspired to honors on the cinder-path. The necessity of getting all the parts of the body slowly in working order is well understood by trainers and jockeys on the racetrack, as is evidenced by the preliminary “warming up” they give their horses, although it is doubtful if the trainers could give any physiologic reason for the custom.

I once asked an old darky trainer in the South why he always ran his horses just before a race, and he replied, “I’s got ter ile ’em up; jus’ ile ’em up.” Then he shouted to a little bow-legged coon on a big bay horse: “Youse, git a goin’ dar, Sam; git ’im iled up so I kaint heer ’im squeek—git de ile in ’is jints; go dar!” And Sam went on “iling ’im up.”

Of the substances supplied to the muscles by the blood, oxygen is one the want of which is soonest felt. The muscle contains within itself a certain store of oxygen, but one which is by no means equal to the oxidizable substances. The muscle’s activity is dependent, to a great extent, on the character and force of the blood-flow. It must be clear of waste products, and contain, as well, sufficient oxygen to keep up continually a renewal of energy.

From what has been said, it will readily be seen that the result of a muscular task which an athlete wishes to perform, will depend primarily on his muscular bulk and on the conditions of these muscles and the rate at which he expends his capital; the test of his endurance will depend upon the condition of the other parts of his body and how rapidly they will carry off the quickly formed poisonous products and supply fresh ones.

A large number of the lesser pugilists have died in the ring the last ten years. Scarcely one of these deaths was directly due to the force or severity of the blows struck, but because the fighters were “out of condition.” The writer, himself, once had an opponent in the amateur ring whose condition was so plainly unfit that he refrained from exerting forceful energy, but let the man poison himself, when a gentle cross-counter laid him out. He literally beat himself.

What I have said about self-poisoning refers also to the nerves and brain. As the muscles work faster, so do the central nerve cells which send the stimulating impulses to these muscles. These latter cells become fatigued sooner than the muscles. This is a grand feature of physiologic economy; for, did not this condition exist, the muscles would work themselves to pieces—run wild, like an uncontrolled engine.

The muscular differences noted in individuals are in reality the difference in the nerve cells, the actions of the muscles indicating the activity of the central nervous system. When the muscles are being exercised the nerve cells indirectly determine the muscular activity.

From the above statement it can be seen why one with exhausted nerve cells should avoid exercise. The nervous system should be at rest. For example; if a youth is recovering from some severe illness—typhoid fever, let us say—he should not at first try to get back his muscular strength by self-exercise. The muscles need blood sent to them to grow and regain their former elasticity, but the nerve cells required for all this must have a rest. How is it to be done?

By the exercise of another person’s nerve cells. That is, the muscles should be massaged by some strong man. As the nerve cells gradually come to their full activity again, then the youth may commence gradual exercises on his own account.

It is the general impression among athletes that exhaustion and “loss of wind” are due to the inability to consume sufficient oxygen and exhale rapidly enough carbon dioxide. When the muscle is moving rapidly and forcibly, it is true that it demands more oxygen and gives off to the blood more carbon dioxide than when at rest. When a man is running as fast as he can make his limbs move, he is able to keep up the pace but for a short distance, unless, like the hunted hare, he runs to death. On account of the forced and rapid muscular action in this case the poisonous materials are thrown into the blood, to be carried to all parts of the body—muscles, nerves, brain. The heart is affected by this poison through the nerve cells controlling this organ; the muscles of respiration are similarly disturbed. The panting, distressed efforts of breathing, sidelong tumbling and final semi-unconsciousness of the hunted stag or hare are good examples of acute self-poisoning ending in death. It is just as much a case of poisoning as would be a case of gas poisoning; the only difference being that in the first case the gas is manufactured in your body, in the other case, outside and you breathe it in.

One of the main “clearing houses” of the body, by which the blood is constantly cleared of much of its poisons, is the liver. The minute cells of this organ each have their individual work to perform in transforming the poisonous material into harmless substances. The cells of this “clearing house” are delicate little organs, and will not stand abuse. All habits having a tendency to cause dyspepsia—eating rapidly, eating indigestible food, constant and intemperate use of alcohol or the use of tobacco in the youth—disturb the normal work of the liver. Hence, one of the first aims of a boy who desires to be a strong man—and what boy does not have this admirable aim?—should be to keep the liver in the best possible condition. Any clogging or disturbance of the ordinary work of the liver prevents the blood from being in a pure state. All parts of the body will show distressing symptoms of fatigue and exhaustion if the little cells of the liver have become diseased or useless through intemperate living and ignorance of the duties belonging to each separate organ of the human body.

In general terms I have given you some facts necessary to know if you wish to reach full manhood in perfect health and with all the organs so adjusted that the human machine in you will work the rest of your long life without squeaking and rattling. But there are many little details for you to know in order to keep the adjustment perfect and to increase the power and energy in you—mental and physical. Too many boys and youths have never been taught how to get the best that is in them to work—to be a success because they are doing what is in them to do and are happy in doing it—this is what means success. I shall try in the next chat to go into some of these details, and so on up to the most important facts in life. To give you a comprehensive knowledge of your sex organs, how to care for them, what Life means, and in all matters that go to make up the normal man. To give you instruction that makes a man, produces the character of the man of honor, to give you the inward grace of a gentleman, which cannot manifest itself outwardly save in good manners, modesty of bearing and fearlessness. And so many of these qualities depend inwardly upon a perfect adjustment of all your organs. You shall be told all about differences of man and woman; why you should be at all times kind and considerate to the girls and women—in fact what the world means in its development and what you can do to assist in its better development.


                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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