So, it is Christmas Eve. It certainly does not feel like it, since there is no snow or even cold weather to make me want to curl up at home. I pretty much don't do the holidays anymore, ever since my parents split many years ago. It just doesn't feel like a cheery and fun time. Instead, it becomes a time of reflection and thinking of the new year. And, dare I say, goal-setting. Here are a few things I intend to accomplish or, at least, work towards.
I heart track and field. Really, seriously. It was the first sport I participated in in my youth, when in grade school, I ran with a group that trained for a 5K. It was so fun and didn't feel like work, just exercise with friends. It was something that I, and only I, was accountable for; win or lose, good time or bad time, it was no one's fault but mine. And I have really reverted to that some 30 years later. This is a time in my life where I desire to challenge myself again in that way. Such great memories of running with my mom, bless her. Running in a big road race at age 10 was pretty cool, and running a 5:07 mile at age 11 was even neater. Geez, just said neat. Wow.
Anyway, my goal last summer was to run in some open all-comers track meets. You know, the kind where you show up and pay a few bucks to run in a weekly format. Very grassroots. Unfortunatley, my body was just not ready, between the Achilles and heel issues and just being too heavy. Well, now the issues are almost resolved and I have dropped 45 pounds since the spring. My body feels amazing, and the biggest help has been eliminating wheat and dairy products. These caused immense joint inflammation that stopped me in my tracks. Who knew such a simple change would elicit a huge lifestyle shift??
These days it's running, sprinting, excelling that I think of. It doesn't matter if I finish last, ever. What matters is that I saw my goals to the end, and did the best of my ability to get there. Part of getting older is realizing your limitations and your mortality. Will I be an Olympian? Never. Will I run a sub 50 second 400? Nope. Will I contract a fatal disease? Sure, that's possible. There are so many things out of my control, yet there are so many that are in my control as well. Can I make more money? Yes. Can I take care of my body and perform to my utmost? Absolutely. Getting older equals more realization and more clarity, and with those comes a deeper satisfaction with my overall outlook.
The USATF Masters meet is in July in Kansas, of all places. That will be slightly hot. If I get there, great. If not, great too. Either way, it's realizing the journey begins with a single step. That step has already begun...
Monday, December 24, 2012
Friday, December 21, 2012
Bah Humbug, Part 1
Greetings. I really have no idea what bah humbug means, but it sounds dirty, like ghoulash or Kardashian. There is always somebody who isn't in the holiday mood or does not care for the festivities. That guy is me. Seriously, since when did Christmas translate to 'I want an iPad and an XBox'? I refuse to subscribe to that shallow thinking, and rather use this time to reflect on the good fortune in my life, no matter how miniscule. Plus, it was this exact time my mom passed three years ago, so being god damn festive and jolly ain't happening...
So, because I'm such a sentimental son of a bitch, here is my list of things that generally irritate, annoy or bug the crap out of me. Enjoy.
1. Not bringing a water bottle to the gym. Really, dicknose? You are roughly 3/4 water and waste so much time waddling your ass to the water fountain. So when I am filling my gallon jug and you have to wait, realize that I am actually making you wait on purpose.
2. Benching and curling. This is especially rampant here in the military, because we all know how much ya bench totally translates to job performance. And the gun show usually resembles a pop gun circus. Guys, there are hardly any girls up here. Stop trying to impress your buddies and drop the ego.
3. My beloved New York Giants. Once again, these knuckleheads are threatening to not make the playoffs. This stresses me out. I don't need it, Eli.
4. There's a chick at another gym who wears a circa-1982 terrycloth track suit and talks on her cell non-stop while on the treadmill. I don't like this bitch.
5. The constant mundane Facebook updates. No one cares that you just made dinner, or have a headache, or how generally awesome you are. It looks snarky and shallow. Stop.
6. That my head can not grow hair yet my ears seem to be sprouting like a fucking Chia pet. This a bullshit tradeoff.
7. And, while I'm at it, there seems to be more back hair fuzz. Not cool, man.
8. That 'Almost Live' is not on anymore. I didn't live here in the late '80's/early '90's, but the reruns are still very, very funny and did a great job of capturing an exciting era. Bring it back!
9. That every Mariner fan keeps holding on to that glorious 1995 ALDS victory over the Yankees. Take note: when your teams' shining memory was 17 years ago, you might want to find something slightly more recent to remember.
10. Rubbernecking. Yes, there was an accident. Yes, someone may be hurt. No, we don't need to fucking stop and look at it. I am a very important man and I have shit to do. Move your ass. Thanks.
Ok, enough of my complaining. I will think of more later. Now go have some eggnog.
So, because I'm such a sentimental son of a bitch, here is my list of things that generally irritate, annoy or bug the crap out of me. Enjoy.
1. Not bringing a water bottle to the gym. Really, dicknose? You are roughly 3/4 water and waste so much time waddling your ass to the water fountain. So when I am filling my gallon jug and you have to wait, realize that I am actually making you wait on purpose.
2. Benching and curling. This is especially rampant here in the military, because we all know how much ya bench totally translates to job performance. And the gun show usually resembles a pop gun circus. Guys, there are hardly any girls up here. Stop trying to impress your buddies and drop the ego.
3. My beloved New York Giants. Once again, these knuckleheads are threatening to not make the playoffs. This stresses me out. I don't need it, Eli.
4. There's a chick at another gym who wears a circa-1982 terrycloth track suit and talks on her cell non-stop while on the treadmill. I don't like this bitch.
5. The constant mundane Facebook updates. No one cares that you just made dinner, or have a headache, or how generally awesome you are. It looks snarky and shallow. Stop.
6. That my head can not grow hair yet my ears seem to be sprouting like a fucking Chia pet. This a bullshit tradeoff.
7. And, while I'm at it, there seems to be more back hair fuzz. Not cool, man.
8. That 'Almost Live' is not on anymore. I didn't live here in the late '80's/early '90's, but the reruns are still very, very funny and did a great job of capturing an exciting era. Bring it back!
9. That every Mariner fan keeps holding on to that glorious 1995 ALDS victory over the Yankees. Take note: when your teams' shining memory was 17 years ago, you might want to find something slightly more recent to remember.
10. Rubbernecking. Yes, there was an accident. Yes, someone may be hurt. No, we don't need to fucking stop and look at it. I am a very important man and I have shit to do. Move your ass. Thanks.
Ok, enough of my complaining. I will think of more later. Now go have some eggnog.
Monday, December 17, 2012
How I screwed myself, Part 2
Hi again. So, to recap, I was 238, bald and marshmallow-y. Ok, good, now that is cleared up. But let's digress. Just how did I get into this weightlifting racket? Ah, it was the typical scenario of dad having some weights laying around and junior suddenly grows some biceps. That is exactly what happened though.
It was 1984. I had a bitchin' head of brown hair, wore parachute pants that were WHITE (that takes balls), was obsessed with Ratt and basketball and had already gotten through the zit stage. Early bloomer, what can I say? So, in the garage there are some of those old plastic weights. You know the kind, from Sears. Filled with sand and cheap looking and leak a slow death when the sand finds an exit. Yep, I decided to do some bicep curls and a few months later noticed that my jumpshot didn't require me to jump. My arms were strong enough that it altered my hoop game. Hmm, there's something to this, I thought...
You know what comes next; following the workouts directly from the magazines. Oh yes, the path to awesomeville was at my fingertips. Just turn the pages and you too shall be transformed into a modern day Charles Atlas. My body did change but in typical Boon fashion my initial burst of muscle growth occurred during cross country season. Yep, yours truly was the team captain! Still, I gained 10 pounds during the season, which probably didn't help me secure a college scholarship to run, as I had a talk with the Montana State coach. He decided that my times were a tad too slow. Damn you, muscle.
After graduation we moved back to Alabama from Miami and I fell back in with a few old friends. They were both about to play college football so I tagged along to the gym. My first time squatting ended up with me looking up, falling forward and crunching my finger between the bar and the cage. Dandy. But, the body responded and over the next few months I put on 30 pounds. Not unheard of when you're 18.
Fast forward a few years. Lifting heavy, growing, not sure what is working or why but it is so who cares and I don't need a day off because I'm feeling awesome and this music is so badass that I want to do more sets. You know, full of piss and vinegar and bravado. I get offered some synthetic testosterone, 25 tabs. Hmm, is this ok? I actually have morals and debated over this, since I lived with mom and dad and knew that any sudden growth, zits, rage or sticky towels would kinda give it away. Screw it, let's do it. So it was did and boy, was it done good. 30 pounds in 8 weeks, plus 7 more after the last tab was taken. They didn't call me the Water Buffalo for no reason, son. I earned that. Good lord, that was awesome!! I can't fucking breathe or tie my shoes but who cares? I'm big and strong! This was 1994. It has taken me until the past few months to take all that weight off...
I was so meticulous with the tabs that with the precision of a surgeon I butterknifed the pills into quarters. Knew enough to start with a quarter pill and work up to a full. This was spread over the seven weeks and I must say in that regard I got it right. Even the pill dust was accounted for. Like a drug dealer cutting his cocaine, nothing was wasted. I wrote and charted when and how much to take. It was for growth, for crying out loud! 25 tabs changed my life, for better or worse. I still can't decide. But this is what my calling was; to lift and be big and damn it, I did it pretty well. Some of my best weights over the years, you ask? Sure. Squatted 455x8 with no wraps, leg pressed 1300x8, military pressed 275 for reps, hack squatted 675 for a dozen, and so on.
And now I couldn't care less. As we get older we realize that life isn't about how much we can impress everyone else, it's about being healthy and impressing just ourself. My competition now comes from within only. Have not been under the bar only a few times in the past few years for some light front squats, have not benched in well over a year, hardly do any direct arm work. Guess what? Look and feel a ton better. It stems from being happy with me as a person first. Before it was about impressing others; now it's not in the conversation. I don't care how much you bench, bro. But, are you a good friend, husband or son? Do you help others and act respectful? Do you say please and thank you? That goes much further. And I get it.
Maybe i didn't screw myself so bad...
It was 1984. I had a bitchin' head of brown hair, wore parachute pants that were WHITE (that takes balls), was obsessed with Ratt and basketball and had already gotten through the zit stage. Early bloomer, what can I say? So, in the garage there are some of those old plastic weights. You know the kind, from Sears. Filled with sand and cheap looking and leak a slow death when the sand finds an exit. Yep, I decided to do some bicep curls and a few months later noticed that my jumpshot didn't require me to jump. My arms were strong enough that it altered my hoop game. Hmm, there's something to this, I thought...
You know what comes next; following the workouts directly from the magazines. Oh yes, the path to awesomeville was at my fingertips. Just turn the pages and you too shall be transformed into a modern day Charles Atlas. My body did change but in typical Boon fashion my initial burst of muscle growth occurred during cross country season. Yep, yours truly was the team captain! Still, I gained 10 pounds during the season, which probably didn't help me secure a college scholarship to run, as I had a talk with the Montana State coach. He decided that my times were a tad too slow. Damn you, muscle.
After graduation we moved back to Alabama from Miami and I fell back in with a few old friends. They were both about to play college football so I tagged along to the gym. My first time squatting ended up with me looking up, falling forward and crunching my finger between the bar and the cage. Dandy. But, the body responded and over the next few months I put on 30 pounds. Not unheard of when you're 18.
Fast forward a few years. Lifting heavy, growing, not sure what is working or why but it is so who cares and I don't need a day off because I'm feeling awesome and this music is so badass that I want to do more sets. You know, full of piss and vinegar and bravado. I get offered some synthetic testosterone, 25 tabs. Hmm, is this ok? I actually have morals and debated over this, since I lived with mom and dad and knew that any sudden growth, zits, rage or sticky towels would kinda give it away. Screw it, let's do it. So it was did and boy, was it done good. 30 pounds in 8 weeks, plus 7 more after the last tab was taken. They didn't call me the Water Buffalo for no reason, son. I earned that. Good lord, that was awesome!! I can't fucking breathe or tie my shoes but who cares? I'm big and strong! This was 1994. It has taken me until the past few months to take all that weight off...
I was so meticulous with the tabs that with the precision of a surgeon I butterknifed the pills into quarters. Knew enough to start with a quarter pill and work up to a full. This was spread over the seven weeks and I must say in that regard I got it right. Even the pill dust was accounted for. Like a drug dealer cutting his cocaine, nothing was wasted. I wrote and charted when and how much to take. It was for growth, for crying out loud! 25 tabs changed my life, for better or worse. I still can't decide. But this is what my calling was; to lift and be big and damn it, I did it pretty well. Some of my best weights over the years, you ask? Sure. Squatted 455x8 with no wraps, leg pressed 1300x8, military pressed 275 for reps, hack squatted 675 for a dozen, and so on.
And now I couldn't care less. As we get older we realize that life isn't about how much we can impress everyone else, it's about being healthy and impressing just ourself. My competition now comes from within only. Have not been under the bar only a few times in the past few years for some light front squats, have not benched in well over a year, hardly do any direct arm work. Guess what? Look and feel a ton better. It stems from being happy with me as a person first. Before it was about impressing others; now it's not in the conversation. I don't care how much you bench, bro. But, are you a good friend, husband or son? Do you help others and act respectful? Do you say please and thank you? That goes much further. And I get it.
Maybe i didn't screw myself so bad...
Thursday, December 13, 2012
How I screwed myself, Part 1
One huge issue that most of us deal with is low back pain. In fact, it can be said that the lumbar region is the most-often injured part of the body. When someone tells me they have pain there, it is called 'presenting', as in, my back hurts in this area, what can you tell me? A super basic rule of thumb is to remember that almost all pain or discomfort issues derive from an area above or below said area. That means, when your back locked up while tying your shoe, it wasn't the laces that caused the problem; it was years of bad mechanics that decided to protest at this very moment!
An easy way to understand the situation is to think of the vertebra as smooth rocks stacked upon one another. These are special rocks though, because between each one is a tasty jelly-filled donut! Awesomesauce!! These donuts are there to keep the rocks from rubbing on each other. But if you are one of those who always round their back while sitting and think that doing crunches for the abzzz is the way to mistaken!
We are given a certain amount of crunches, or how many times we can flex the spine, before something gives. That something is a one-way ticket to Fatsotown when you can't do anything but lay on the couch and eat Ring Dings. When you have chronic back pain a few things are happening; your abdominal wall is weakened and therefore you look kinda fat (fluffy is more PC though) and your glutes are ,without a doubt, not firing properly. I have suffered from both. Not a sexy look, promise.
It can be said that we suffer from anterior tilt in this situation. In fact, the majority of us do. I was able to squat 455x8, and regularly (and easily) crushed 315-365 for 8 to 12 reps. While my confidence, and ego to a degree, soared, my body started to protest. Constant back pain and overall fatigue had me evaluating just what the hell I was doing.
With age comes wisdom. And like the next guy, I thought I was invincible and would lift big weights forever. Wrong. My mindset changed, mainly because my wonderful late mother one time asked me, if lifting those heavy weights are so enjoyable, then why do you always tell me how sore and tired you are? Voila. That was a huge moment, and something that stuck in my head for many years. Us guys lift heavy weights to be attractive to the ladiezzz, so let's just state the obvious. While we may also do it for a release or for a sport, it's really all about the sexification so we can hook up. But as the saying goes, if you do what you've always done you will always get what you've gotten. That means, if you look like you're lugging a sack of potatoes around your waist or walk like an hunchback maybe it's time to rethink yourself.
Sooooo...I did just that. After years of just trying to get over the mental macho bullshit, I decided that it was smarter in the long run to feel not as sore and tired. Plus, tying my shoes didn't need to involve me holding my breath because of my muffin top. Is that one word or two? Anyone? I decided that it was quality over quantity. No more heavy squats that threatened to fold me like a ladder, no more potential spine-snapping deadlifts, and no more 1000 pound leg presses. And PS, mine weren't the quarter rep crap, but rather the deep, I-hope-I-can-push-this-heavy-shit-off-me variety. Just sayin'...
My heaviest weight was 238 and boy, did I look like a bald marshmallow. Strong as all get out but unflexible and in constant back pain. The pictures from just three years ago told me all I needed to see; a typical wannabe bodybuilder who obviously had mastered the offseason diet. Tight cutoff t-shirt for showing the gunzz? Check. Water jug so I could hydrate my already waterlogged fat ass? Yes. Pound of fatty beef with three large potatoes,topped with mayo, ketchup and mustard? Sure. Daily.
When you are ego-driven you are essentially asking for societal acceptance, whether it's by dressing in the latest fashions, going to the hippest clubs or lifting heavy weights and looking sloppy. There are diffrences in those three examples, sure, yet they mean the same to me: being unhappy. Pushing or pulling more weight than the next guy may fluff my feathers, but only for a minute. The end result is, how do I look and feel about me?
Tell you more later...
An easy way to understand the situation is to think of the vertebra as smooth rocks stacked upon one another. These are special rocks though, because between each one is a tasty jelly-filled donut! Awesomesauce!! These donuts are there to keep the rocks from rubbing on each other. But if you are one of those who always round their back while sitting and think that doing crunches for the abzzz is the way to mistaken!
We are given a certain amount of crunches, or how many times we can flex the spine, before something gives. That something is a one-way ticket to Fatsotown when you can't do anything but lay on the couch and eat Ring Dings. When you have chronic back pain a few things are happening; your abdominal wall is weakened and therefore you look kinda fat (fluffy is more PC though) and your glutes are ,without a doubt, not firing properly. I have suffered from both. Not a sexy look, promise.
It can be said that we suffer from anterior tilt in this situation. In fact, the majority of us do. I was able to squat 455x8, and regularly (and easily) crushed 315-365 for 8 to 12 reps. While my confidence, and ego to a degree, soared, my body started to protest. Constant back pain and overall fatigue had me evaluating just what the hell I was doing.
With age comes wisdom. And like the next guy, I thought I was invincible and would lift big weights forever. Wrong. My mindset changed, mainly because my wonderful late mother one time asked me, if lifting those heavy weights are so enjoyable, then why do you always tell me how sore and tired you are? Voila. That was a huge moment, and something that stuck in my head for many years. Us guys lift heavy weights to be attractive to the ladiezzz, so let's just state the obvious. While we may also do it for a release or for a sport, it's really all about the sexification so we can hook up. But as the saying goes, if you do what you've always done you will always get what you've gotten. That means, if you look like you're lugging a sack of potatoes around your waist or walk like an hunchback maybe it's time to rethink yourself.
Sooooo...I did just that. After years of just trying to get over the mental macho bullshit, I decided that it was smarter in the long run to feel not as sore and tired. Plus, tying my shoes didn't need to involve me holding my breath because of my muffin top. Is that one word or two? Anyone? I decided that it was quality over quantity. No more heavy squats that threatened to fold me like a ladder, no more potential spine-snapping deadlifts, and no more 1000 pound leg presses. And PS, mine weren't the quarter rep crap, but rather the deep, I-hope-I-can-push-this-heavy-shit-off-me variety. Just sayin'...
My heaviest weight was 238 and boy, did I look like a bald marshmallow. Strong as all get out but unflexible and in constant back pain. The pictures from just three years ago told me all I needed to see; a typical wannabe bodybuilder who obviously had mastered the offseason diet. Tight cutoff t-shirt for showing the gunzz? Check. Water jug so I could hydrate my already waterlogged fat ass? Yes. Pound of fatty beef with three large potatoes,topped with mayo, ketchup and mustard? Sure. Daily.
When you are ego-driven you are essentially asking for societal acceptance, whether it's by dressing in the latest fashions, going to the hippest clubs or lifting heavy weights and looking sloppy. There are diffrences in those three examples, sure, yet they mean the same to me: being unhappy. Pushing or pulling more weight than the next guy may fluff my feathers, but only for a minute. The end result is, how do I look and feel about me?
Tell you more later...
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Today's agenda
So i am sitting here with a cold and your basic head congestion. Sunday was spent pretty much doing manly stuff like coughing, sniffling, watching football and eating chocolate. It was definetly a day where I had no desire to do much moving, but was convinced by my girlfriend that moving, i.e doing sprints ,would help loosen things up. So, since it had been two weeks since I had been able to run becuase of a recurring heel issue and this was the day I had marked to give it a trial run, I said what the heck.
Now before I go on, let it be known that my tolerance for being ill is pretty low. It annoys me to no end basically. I pretty much will give it one day and then I expect it to be gone, whether it's a cold or typhoid fever or leukemia, just get the hell out of me. So my method has always been to approach illness like a 1941 Japanese Kamikaze pilot; just take everything available and overload my system. It's the kill-or-be-killed mentality. At this point it's a matter of blitzing the body with any and everything, so this time it was a Dayquil chug on the hour, coffee to be a bronchodilator, throat lozenges, Ibuprofren and some sinus meds. In my younger days I used to throw down a few shots of whiskey, but let's not go there.
Feel much better today. Energy is better, legs not so weak, mental clarity much clearer, sinuses not so snotty. So how about training today? I am scheduled to do lower body so this will be interesting. Since I don't load my back via back squatting it's safe to assume that I won't get stapled at any point. Does anyone remember the old Saturday morning '70's cartoons? There was that one guy who had a 'hankering for a hunka, a pice a, slice, a chunka, I got a hankering for a hunk of cheese' and he had such wobbly legs. That's me when I'm sick. Without the cheese cravings.
So the smartest idea today will be to focus more on flexibility and form. Normally now in my old age ( 42 next month) my main concern is hamstrings and glutes. By the way, I call glutes 'cupcakes'. This is because I want a butt so tight that all the ladiezzzz will want to cup my cakes. Now you know.
What do I normally do for leg work? It's sumo kettlebell squats with a wide stance, goblet squats, a lateral lunge or squat, suitcase dumbell pulls and lots of calf stretching. Very basic but works for me. I have been blessed to have leg size and fullness ( thanks, mom) so the aformentioned and some plyometrics works for me. Since breathing could be an issue today, I will most likely not do any supersets. I do, however, love my pushups and will throw some of those in the mix today.
A pretty rambling and pointless post I know. Blame it on the Dayquil.
Now before I go on, let it be known that my tolerance for being ill is pretty low. It annoys me to no end basically. I pretty much will give it one day and then I expect it to be gone, whether it's a cold or typhoid fever or leukemia, just get the hell out of me. So my method has always been to approach illness like a 1941 Japanese Kamikaze pilot; just take everything available and overload my system. It's the kill-or-be-killed mentality. At this point it's a matter of blitzing the body with any and everything, so this time it was a Dayquil chug on the hour, coffee to be a bronchodilator, throat lozenges, Ibuprofren and some sinus meds. In my younger days I used to throw down a few shots of whiskey, but let's not go there.
Feel much better today. Energy is better, legs not so weak, mental clarity much clearer, sinuses not so snotty. So how about training today? I am scheduled to do lower body so this will be interesting. Since I don't load my back via back squatting it's safe to assume that I won't get stapled at any point. Does anyone remember the old Saturday morning '70's cartoons? There was that one guy who had a 'hankering for a hunka, a pice a, slice, a chunka, I got a hankering for a hunk of cheese' and he had such wobbly legs. That's me when I'm sick. Without the cheese cravings.
So the smartest idea today will be to focus more on flexibility and form. Normally now in my old age ( 42 next month) my main concern is hamstrings and glutes. By the way, I call glutes 'cupcakes'. This is because I want a butt so tight that all the ladiezzzz will want to cup my cakes. Now you know.
What do I normally do for leg work? It's sumo kettlebell squats with a wide stance, goblet squats, a lateral lunge or squat, suitcase dumbell pulls and lots of calf stretching. Very basic but works for me. I have been blessed to have leg size and fullness ( thanks, mom) so the aformentioned and some plyometrics works for me. Since breathing could be an issue today, I will most likely not do any supersets. I do, however, love my pushups and will throw some of those in the mix today.
A pretty rambling and pointless post I know. Blame it on the Dayquil.
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