@trainwithstan: Upper body workout for footballers #athlete #footballtraining #gym #strength #upperbody

Stanley Smithers Tynan
Stanley Smithers Tynan
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Region: ES
Monday 21 September 2026 20:00:47 GMT
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eliasves011
eliasves011 :
No point of doing db press if u do bench and you should use 5-7 reps with heavy weight to build explosivnes
2026-09-22 06:28:57
22
mario_sulti
Sulti :
how many reps for each?
2026-09-21 21:27:13
7
.kellanmason
愛 :
can you give me ur gym routine
2026-09-26 08:46:40
0
karlabalbess
karlabalbess :
2026-09-21 20:11:28
3
sh.ania685
Shania :
2026-09-21 20:02:33
1
karlabalbess
karlabalbess :
2026-09-21 20:11:42
3
karlabalbess
karlabalbess :
2026-09-21 20:12:00
2
su_ii10
slom :
2026-09-22 08:59:22
1
hldpm6
Aveline :
I’m always interested in meeting someone who sees life differently. 🔥
2026-09-22 11:22:09
3
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There was something about Rust in 2021 that I don’t think we’ll ever get back. Maybe the game wasn’t perfect. Maybe we complained about the same things every day, got door camped, lost hours of farming, and watched everything we worked for disappear overnight. But somehow, those were the days we would give anything to experience again. Back then, logging onto Rust felt different. You’d join the server and immediately hear your friends yelling in Discord. Someone needed help at Oil Rig. Someone was getting roof camped. Someone had just lost an entire inventory of sulfur because they decided to fight a guy with a bow. We would get mad at each other, laugh about it five minutes later, and keep playing until the sun came up. The old monuments, the gunfights, the bases we thought were impossible to raid it all felt bigger back then. Hearing an AK in the distance actually meant something. Seeing a full metal kit made your heart start racing. Even sitting inside the base organizing boxes while the rain hit the roof somehow felt peaceful. We never realized we were making memories. At the time, it was just another wipe. There would always be another Thursday. Another base. Another snowball. Another night of saying, “One more roam,” before staying online for three more hours. But eventually, people stopped getting on. The Discord calls became quieter. The friend who was online every single night suddenly hadn’t launched Rust in months. The group slowly disappeared until those chaotic nights became nothing more than old screenshots, forgotten clips, and names sitting offline on a friends list. Rust kept changing. New updates came out. The graphics improved. New monuments, weapons, and mechanics were added. But no update could bring back our Rust. Sometimes I wish I could load into one random night from 2021 again. Not to change anything. Not to win every fight or save every base. I’d just want to hear everyone’s voices again. I’d sit inside that ugly base we built, listening to furnaces burning while someone played terrible music through their microphone. I wouldn’t complain about farming. I wouldn’t care if we got raided tomorrow. Because now I know something we didn’t understand back then. The wipe wasn’t what mattered. It was the people we spent it with. And just like every Rust wipe eventually ends, ours did too. We just didn’t know it was the last one. #rust #rustgame #rusttok #fyp #viral
There was something about Rust in 2021 that I don’t think we’ll ever get back. Maybe the game wasn’t perfect. Maybe we complained about the same things every day, got door camped, lost hours of farming, and watched everything we worked for disappear overnight. But somehow, those were the days we would give anything to experience again. Back then, logging onto Rust felt different. You’d join the server and immediately hear your friends yelling in Discord. Someone needed help at Oil Rig. Someone was getting roof camped. Someone had just lost an entire inventory of sulfur because they decided to fight a guy with a bow. We would get mad at each other, laugh about it five minutes later, and keep playing until the sun came up. The old monuments, the gunfights, the bases we thought were impossible to raid it all felt bigger back then. Hearing an AK in the distance actually meant something. Seeing a full metal kit made your heart start racing. Even sitting inside the base organizing boxes while the rain hit the roof somehow felt peaceful. We never realized we were making memories. At the time, it was just another wipe. There would always be another Thursday. Another base. Another snowball. Another night of saying, “One more roam,” before staying online for three more hours. But eventually, people stopped getting on. The Discord calls became quieter. The friend who was online every single night suddenly hadn’t launched Rust in months. The group slowly disappeared until those chaotic nights became nothing more than old screenshots, forgotten clips, and names sitting offline on a friends list. Rust kept changing. New updates came out. The graphics improved. New monuments, weapons, and mechanics were added. But no update could bring back our Rust. Sometimes I wish I could load into one random night from 2021 again. Not to change anything. Not to win every fight or save every base. I’d just want to hear everyone’s voices again. I’d sit inside that ugly base we built, listening to furnaces burning while someone played terrible music through their microphone. I wouldn’t complain about farming. I wouldn’t care if we got raided tomorrow. Because now I know something we didn’t understand back then. The wipe wasn’t what mattered. It was the people we spent it with. And just like every Rust wipe eventually ends, ours did too. We just didn’t know it was the last one. #rust #rustgame #rusttok #fyp #viral

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