Cut off our arms to spite the innoculators

A man fires a rifle for many years. At the end of year four he hands the rifle over to the armorer, returns the card entitling him to the rifle, and sets sail for the eastern seaboard.

A man lifts a kettlebell for many years. There is no end to this era as the kettlebell, much more than a tool for stopping and killing, is to the man's fingers as the brush to the artist's. The pencil to the carpenter, or the counting frame to the abacist. From steel he creates fire, and reborn in the fire is flesh.

Post rebirth, after the neural network processors have rewired themselves in accordance with the new armor, the brush's strokes are cleaner. The lines drawn by the pencil more precise, and the arithmetic is far less prone to error. I never bet that I would end up like I did, but the farthest thing from my heart now is regret. Formerly I begged for situations to present themselves again so that I may alter the future in erasing the past. Currently, the nature of the situation and the rhythmic fashion in which these situations manifest is at long last, 100% clear.

I say again, at long last, the chronology of the cycles which indicate bipolar disorder in my brain housing is now clear.

'Moonlight is thought to transform some people into strange creatures or to drive others mad'

One month.
31 days.
Moon cycles.
I move in and out of stability like the moon around our rock.

Monthly, human females release an egg, and when unfertilized, the ripe lining of the uterus sheds as there will be no need for the plump tissue. The egg passes, and the days following the death include blood loss, physical pain, and emotional disorientation. In some cases, anyway.

Monthly, I wake anew, fresh from slumber lasting no more than 8 hours. I release an urge, and when handled, it allows for the birth of art, written words in prosaic poses, and physical outings that exact the intention of the brush, the pencil, the rifle, and the bell. I stroke, I draw the lines, I fire the well aimed shot and I lift the weight. When discounted, the urge, and all the spokes radiating from it, will come to rest in the area of my brain that makes decisions, and it will forge blindness. It will disable my ability to recognize the star behind the clouds and the simple effort it takes to realign this vessel with it's mother. Knowing the urge and handling it bring progressions. Sleepwalk capsule ingestion* and both active and passive ignorance of the change, the urge, the chemistry, are disastrous. The vessel needs not be numbed, or lubed, for relief. The armor must be policed, and the systems analyzed IOT promote growth. No decline, only demarcation. This day is the release of the egg. That day becomes i-n-i-t-i-a-t-i-o-n. On that day I clean the brush, I sharpen the pencil, I press the weight.

I lift the weight off my chest.

Every month I go through a change. It is small, it is subtle, yet the consequence of my settlement with the change is what creates the waves, or facilitates walking across the tremulant sea. I don't always notice it. Until last night I was not even aware that the cycles were this compressed, or that agreeing and disagreeing with the shifts dictates the length of progression or recovery, yet a foggy patrol northbound to the stage gave me the chance to asses. To search, to discover, and to decide.

I will not even attempt to delineate the length of the meso-cycles within the macro cycle of a month. Please understand that while the timing of my mental cycle is now clear, I cannot deftly define the reasons why, beyond the undeniable fact that I was born in 1979.

I have a dozen or so strong days where I feel refreshed and creative far beyond compare. I work in overdrive gear and wear myself down. The vessel tires, and despite excellent fueling habits I grow weary. Days of recovery include lots of sleep and little weight lifting. I become upset with myself for low energy levels and begin to question my existence. I will make a bad decision and, if the lesson is learned, I carry on and have moments like this. If the lesson goes unlearned, and the student fails the course in absentia, the depression festers and the cycle prolongs itself. Showing up for class is only half of it. Reading the required text and exacting foresight is crucial. My name is Eric Owen Williams Junior, born to Eric Senior and Debra Lee Smithgall. I was scheduled to be born in 1978, but I procrastinated. It was cold outside and Mom was a warm home. If I could remember that home maybe I would call them. Maybe they would have gotten more than a 'season's greeting' card.

Today, I feel strong.

This cycle is of strength and lessons learned.

The plan is to reduce, and add by subtracting.

I am surrounded by medicine and I am without an itch right now. Right now. Which is forever.

'Does the moon actually posses such strange powers, or is it all just. . .lunacy'

W2

*I do not take sleeping pills. That was an homage to At The Drive In's final studio recording 'Relationship of Command'.

Keeping with traditions, and tremuleant seas

32kg AM Session 0800
Get Up x 1rl
Swings x 12 x 20
Bent Press x 2R 1L
Swings [centering] x5rl x10r x 10l
Bent Press recovery, previous reps were weak.
2L x 2R. Half a man.
[more swings] x 5RL, 15 two handed, 20 two handed.
Saluted the sun, briefly.

I had some body work done. Not a material addition, as the month of November hosted a pair of mods. My friends, my friend The Boogie RKC sent me some swell messages with her gifted digits, and I was left floating on my way into The Joe, a workplace unlike any other in retail. And in reatil we play with hard, repetitive work.
Opening boxes, placing many small units on shelves, and hoisting from awkward spots are the most common tweakables. Breaking down a pallet of, for example, 50 cases can take a veteran crew member as little as 15 minutes. To wheel the stacks of boxes, numbering 8-9 and loaded with factory sealed non-perishable products, may also take a short burst. These tasks are dexterous activities that also cycle in the hundreds over a 5 hour stint working when the store is closed. iPod and kettlebell career have enabled me to work safely and lift through the two or three hundred get ups, squats, lunges, cleans, carries, and awkward shoulder, arm, and wrist rotations each day.

Verily, 'tis the working man's day and season that adds the profitable roll call another rank
The kettlebell as a means of saving my vessel, and income streams, through longevity and impregnable joint mobility.

Such an awesome job with the reality of cumulative microtrauma. My wrists, and sternum were points of huge release as she located some residuals from clutching boxes, dozen upon dozen, as they come off a pallet, or from cradling those bastards like children. I rack them at my high shoulder or carry them on my head of they are light. But I'll be damned if my anterior, in its entirety, was hummin'. So I tuned in and she left me good for another day. Dial her up in Exton PA at The Dragon Gym for her girya generosity, and ask about the knots she will decrypt on your skeletal muscle.

Please take the liberty of several readings of this brief issue.
Walt Whitman has brought you A Christmas Greeting.

Welcome, Brazilian brother--thy ample place is ready;
A loving hand--a smile from the north--a sunny instant hall!
(Let the future care for itself, where it reveals its troubles,
impedimentas,
Ours, ours the present throe, the democratic aim, the acceptance and
the faith;)
To thee to-day our reaching arm, our turning neck--to thee from us
the expectant eye,
Thou cluster free! thou brilliant lustrous one! thou, learning well,
The true lesson of a nation's light in the sky,
(More shining than the Cross, more than the Crown,)
The height to be superb humanity.

Cheers!

Our Mother, winter.

I began to track workouts in October, titling them after successive letters in the Alphabet such as 'Charlie don't surf' and 'Echo-4 Whiskey' for 'C' & 'E'. I took some time off the King Ghidorah S&C module, which looks like this.

Sunday: ROP medium ladders, and 36:36 mV02 snatching*.
Tuesday: Sumo Deadlifting, 3-5 x 3-5 method, ROP hard ladders.
Wednesday: Variety = Pull ups and deadlifting, foam roller and mobility squats.
Thursday: Light ROP ladders, snatching to roughly 75-80% of previous session.
*Climbing indicates more sets than previous week's high total.

The brief rest period of nearly two weeks initiated when each joint in my body sang, in unison, one fine morning, 'Slow your roll, Jarhead'. Two years ago I would have trained through it. This time I relaxed. I ate like a warrior and contracted strep throat. A week into the Antibiotics, and I am weight training again.

I cannot direct you to my source, however new data further supporting the Hard Style's approach to kettlebell training is out there, and someone saw fit to point me in that direction. I need no further proof that the Hard Man's path of crackerjack pull up performance [tactical chinning, and using ladders to build high rep-max set numbers], yet the text confirms what we already know. We know that Pavel's Pull Up Program design is unparalleled. No one on this rock is going to unlock anything new, with regard to the pull up mechanical or to it's implementation, that Chief has not already given us. Furthermore, 'laser like' focus on the eccentric portion of any weighted movement is something drilled home to me, distinctly, by Chief. That being said, I have not even fully digested my reading assignments, yet they are filling me with gusto previously only seen in mountain goats.

I spoke of wanting to saturate my life in new numbers and planning once I read this text, however, it does not beg for me to rearrange my training. Rather, it assures me that, though selected from three separate yet respected weight training texts, Ghidorah's weight training schedule is top gear. Fit to formalize a human body into armor clad war-dog status. In descending chrono, here are my three most 'recent' sessions.

Week One Tuesday 9 December 1900 hours
Max V02 36:36 protocol. 16 reps, 16kg.
20 sets complete, one minor clock deviation, remedied on-the-fly.
Alternated hands quite often, and never snatched more than two sets consecutive. It is late fall, and 'twas warm last night, but I wrapped the paws with some Bedazzled sock sleeves courtesy of a San Diego County RKC who, I am sure, does not even own a winter coat. Thanks I-V.

Vilification Thursday 27 November 1130 hours. Ladder = Set. Rung = Repetition, get it right.
Tactical Pull Up ladders, using only body weight, 1-2-3 rungs for 3 ladders.
Sumo Deadlift, a very unglamorous 4 sets of 3 reps with 210lbs. My Sumo is in it's infancy, for all you true meat monkey's out there. Spot me a conventional rep and I'll pull 445 in your mama's kitchen right now.

Under the cover of night Tuesday 18 November 1500 hours

Tactical Pull Up Ladder 1-2-3, rest 3:00.
Add a 4kg to my boot/drop it and get a rep: 1/1, 2/2, 3/3.
One straight set, +4kg, of 5 reps.

Alphabetical requirements complete in X,Y, and Zulu time.

This is Corporal Punishment, back to the War Zone.

Preemptive emcees

In previewing next text from trusted sources, I feel like I should have myself repping and sampling the formats offered in [TBA] and [ATBA} on the double. After I recently agreed to follow an infrequent nonetheless planned assault, loaded with ROP pressing, 3-5 method for sumo deadlifting. A coordinated effort to dabble in Max V02 36:36. An honest pact that brought Floor pulling and overhead work in nicely, conditioning the hands and quick lift armor with some KJ Viking spirit. My quiver is packed and I ain't comin' home. Stand by for SALUTE report.

Size: 24kg ROP, +200lbs. barbell, 16kg
Activity: Presing, Pulling, Snatching
Location: Driveways and Dancefloors
Unit: 808s and Heartbreak
Time: ZERO hours
Equipment: Russian Kettlebell Challenge honed bells.



This came via an RKC instructor at Charm City Kettlebells, in Baltimore, MD.

Substitute Teacher

read this blog. . .

Snakebitten

Can the circadian rhythm be magnified and reflected upon a calender so large that it represents the four seasons? Can one define their behavior by the absence or unparalleled plentitude of sunlight? If geography cannot cure something, it may certainly aid in pattern recognition. It allows the user to meet and greet new vessels who may festoon their flesh in the manner typical to the youth culture of that region. No doubt. It affords the traveler, the troubled transient, a chance to hub themselves among a set of spokes versed in dialects and practices as yet introduced to the vagrant vessel. It has become very clear that I am undertaking all of the 'freakish' endeavors I fancied as a teenager now that I am an adult, earning decent bread, and with a ripened set of desires that surfaced around 1987. I wanted to have big muscles. Got 'em. I wanted to have tattoos. Got 'em and getting more. Piercings always looked cool, appeared painful, and cost money. Check, check, check. Since my first big session of work in 2002, I have known that being heavily tattooed by gifted artists was going to be a big part of my future. With the stigma once attached to tattoos all but vanquished in this country, the emergence of thousands of skilled artists has made tattoo art just as popular it is affordable. I have found a guy who, though he may not know it, owns my left forearm and the bare canvas that is my chest. I will see him Tuesday night to wrap up the posterior of said arm. It is just as clear to me that these things I do to my body are an external reflection of the new set of emotions I exposed, and now ride, after that deep digging session in Cali back in May. Every time I move somewhere, every major event or relationship's commencement/curtailing has left an impression on me that I have then impressed upon my physical form. In 1998 I scarred myself intentionally to celebrate a near-perfect score on the rifle range. In 2002, on my brother's 18th birthday, I sat in the chair at South Pacific Tattoo in Waikiki, across from two of my Brothers in 'Corps, and allowed Scott Sterling to place a large family piece on my right arm. Well now I am back from the edge of my own sanity and want to redecorate the vessel. Some cats put rims on their car, some girls dye their hair. This armor clad war dog likes to take some pain away but tasting a little from another's hand.
One set of body mods a year. That is the cycle I am on. Spring 2007, pierced flesh and new work. Spring 2006, new work. Fall 2005, re-pierced my ears. Etc. etc. backwards to 1998.

I saw lip piercings all over southern Cal and I wanted one. Two, actually. I performed a bit of holiday shopping for my friends and blood, and then treated myself to a bit of piercing. Saturday night on South Street. 610 and 215 know what that means. And what it can lead to. Though I was chaperoned on this trip by a fellow Crew Member of the Joe, I had set no trouble on the menu for myself by virtue of my new found desire for, well, self preservation. I like to dress, and look scary, yet this bad boy needs no more reinforcement that lies in a bottle, a pool hall, or a night spent scratching an itch. A wee bit of venomous vexation costing me a day's pay is good enough. And if you find this interesting, or if you, for some reason, find this 'out of character' for me, tune in on Wednesday 19 November. I will have a tale for you.

So a guy walks into work, and he has done something different with his flesh. Responses various and sundry fly out of the mouths of the Crew. After 90% of the Crew offered up [some vomited up] their feelings about the Snakebites, I cataloged the phrases I heard and tagged them to demographics that felt appropriate.

The unpierced, unscarred, unink'd crowd- 'Ooooooh, did that hurt?'
The Tattooed Crowd- 'How bad did it hurt?'
The scarred, ink'd, pierced crowd- 'Did it hurt like the rest?'
The Old crowd- [really nasty voices] 'What did you do you to your face?'
The Squares- 'You know in 20 years you will regret that'.
The closet freaks- 'So, where else are you pierced'
The Freaks who are out of the closet- 'Want to see mine?'
The veteran body modifiers and everyone else who actually took a moment to think about what they were going to say- 'Looks good'.

I have been naming all of my workouts since early October with a phrase that begins with the letters of the alphabet, in succession. Today, I was on T. Backwards from today through last week. . .

"Taming the Itch"
Rite of Passage Ladder Climb
5 ladders, rungs of 1-2-3, 24kg.
36:36 Max v02, 5 sets left and right.
I was very, very angry during this workout. Watching the Eagles tie [lose to] the Bengals messed me up. I laughed it off and then it came back. I curbed the urge to go into one of the studios and hit the bag. Instead I unloaded on my shift tonight at Trader Joe's and crushed the closing duties I had. Acting angry only makes an adult look silly and unprofessional. And I knew my profile was going to be elevated tonight for reasons previously stated.

"Some called it home" Thursday 11-13 1900 hours.
Sumo 200-210-220-220-225 for sets of 3 reps. All of these reps were the very definition of a grind. D-O-G reps as they will be referred to perpetually.
24kg ROP Ladders 1-2-3-4 for 4.
24kg Get Ups x 5L,R.

"Reinforcing the Steel" Sunday 11-9 1300 hours.
32kg ROP Ladders 1-2-3 for 3.

"Questions never asked" Friday 11-7 1700 hours.
V02 Max 36:36 [16kg, 16 reps] 12 sets alternating left and right every set.

"Protect ya' neck" Thursday 11-06 1900 hours.
32kg ROP Ladders 1-2-3 for 3.
This was a rough start. I broke right after the first ladder and ate 2 bananas and a handful of raw [always] almonds. My left lat was in attendance but the right lat was lunching on me. I had to reconstitute those presses with tension from the nether region. Rookie style. I'm talking about going back to the loaded clean and spiral of tension that, while always there, had to fall into remediation due to the absence of my 'stronger side'.
SUMO 200-205-210-210 for sets of 3. 1st set of 210 were all DOG reps.
Tactical Pull Ups +6kg, 3 sets of 5 reps. Raised the bar to 8'4". The added clearance from the deck had me hollowing out like it was Level II all over again. True gangsters remember the pull up tutorial from June '05. Combat Applications. Pour out a little juice if you were there.

And another week is born from the death of it's predecessor.

"Solvitur Ambulando"

November Coming Fire. Trees are turning at a slow rate, which, to anyone who cares to look, allows the different colors and shades of colors to create a fiery salad of 20 feet-high matchsticks rustling and shedding and going skeletal for what will no doubt be another mild winter. Climate crisis, ice age coming, whatever. I am on foot 90% of the time, and to have these mighty towers of carbon decorated by the chemical reaction of minus sunlight, water loss and decay, I am happy. Inspired by their death I went to iTunes and purchased Bauhaus.

Recently I went to another state to perform a private, 4 hour tutorial with a Level II RKC hopeful. We bookended the training with some local excitement. I watched dragons duel and entered the radiation chamber- a real W2 type afternoon. I plan to revisit this client in January after the pistol, windmill, and bent pressing skill has set in. Pulling Up and Jerking bells is no problem for this kid.

My private life, which hindered my career in 2007, has once again become a huge part of my career, however the surfacing of my personal interests in my twin-passion professions has done nothing but aid in my financial and philanthropic growth. Before, the external reinforcement of my 'image' with long nights at the bar, heavy lifting doing nothing for the health of my neck, and a weakened grasp on the quality of the food I ingested led to the decline of a once fine physique. Less pronounced was the degradation in my vaporous self, my 'inner', namely the loss of my passion for art as life, and life as a wonderful thing. What I found in myself when I went to California was what will forever be referred to as The Itch. The Itch to serve myself and only myself. To stretch the patience of my loved ones and students by counting on their loyalty to their own fitness quest to forever link them to me in a professional capacity. Twas the most selfish and manipulative of all motivations, though I was not aware of the behavior. So when I, on that May night after returning to LA from Denmark and Philly, strapped on the iPhones, darkened the room, and dug for the truth, I came out with two handfuls of shit so rank and malicious that I walked it to the edge of the cosmos and offered it to the void- hoping it returns to someone in better form, as that of starlight or rain, rather than darkness and cancer.

Now that I am working 65 hours a week between Trader Joe's and Philadelphia Sports Club, I have no choice but to infuse my personal enchantments with the hours I am on the clock. For I have very little time otherwise to eat, to create, and to dig. People at the Joe have taken pages from the Warrior Diet playbook. Trainers at the gym have begun asking me question after question. Female customers at the store approach me for answers with regard to weight loss and vitamin/mineral supplementation. And I have a new friend whose presence inspires me to work harder than I have before in The Joe, The Gym, and The Chamber [my headspace]. So a few stickers on my clipboard and a few skulls painted on my handled bells draw attention. So I am turning 30 and still dress like a skater. So, here I am happy and motivated and well fed, very well shred, and back from a cold space with warmth and rear-view. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did not enjoy excavating. The manifestation of my body as art and the smartly charted moves I make each week are not merely a version of myself. It is the man I am hungrily becoming. It is the exoskeleton and the vessel guidance system I deserve to have. They, together, are the testament to the pain of my family, the chemistry of my body, and the work my friends and lovers did to put the damage I inflicted on display. Yes I read the note. Yes I looked at the pictures. Of course I recall the concert where I absolutely lost my mind and left you to twist. Can you See the reclamation on display in my eyes and my flesh? I armored my soul against souls for 28 years. With you, I exposed the tumorous mass and offered it back to the black. Black outside no longer means black inside. It was never grey, as grey signifies a medium. I was at one extreme. You all kept the plank balanced, and held the line. You would never ask for payment, but I owed this to all of you. My debts are growing smaller and my craving for responsibility larger. Find me deep inside you when you weep, and I will walk you to the void, where you may jettison the smoldering distress. It is NOT the color within. All cats are grey, but your days should serve your journey, not your cargo. Unload, open the door, and escape to the sea. . .

21 October
'Kettlebells on Parade'
Rite of passage pressing 24kg x 3 rungs, 5 ladders.
Tactical Pull Ups +6kg for 3 sets of 2 reps.
Bodyweight of 229lbs.

23 October
'Laugh until my head comes off'
Max V02 36:36 protocol, day one. 16 repetitions of the kettlebell snatch in 36 seconds followed by 36 seconds active rest. 5 sets Right, 5 sets left.
Tactical Pull Up + 8kg x 3 sets of 3 reps.
Hard Style Push Up x 5 sets of 8 reps.

24 October
'Machines of Melody'
Sumo Deadlift 135lbs x 5 reps to wake up my Sumo position.
185, 190, 195, 200, 200lbs. all for sets of 5 reps. It was not yet a natural stance, yet no longer awkward. 19 hours later, at 0200 Saturday morning, my lower back exploded at Trader Joe's. I was tired and dehydrated and that is where all back strains occur. Last year I would have been out of work for a week. I would have cried and eaten an animal sandwich and made the pain worse. Instead, I just kept moving and never though about it again. I did not train for 4 days.

28 0ctober
'November, Underground'
Sumo Deadlift 165 x 3 reps, 5 reps. Felt it out.
Alternating Pull Ups and Push Ups: 3 pull/5 push, 5 pull/5 push, for 3 rounds.
Max V02 36:36 for 10 sets left, 5 sets right = 240 snatches in 18:00 clock time.

2 November
'Of Wolf, and Self'
Sumo Deadlift
185 x 3, x3. 195 x 3, x5. 200 x 3. This took 28:00 to complete. I was patient.
24kg Rite of Passage Pressing. 1 ladder of 5 rungs. No ground, all pound.

Alternating Ring Pull Ups and Squat Thrusts 1/2-1/3-1/4-1/5 DONE.
Stacy brought her rings and I brought the TAPS bar to the upstairs studio at the Club. It was a bomb session. Then I went to work at Trader Joe's.

I have not trained all week, as it is clearly time to rest again. When animal products dominated my diet and depression fueled self sabotage fueled depression fueled. . . .[you get it] I would work out like it was cool, and then get hurt about once every three months. I would refuse to break from training thinking that I would then have no right to eat. Ridiculous, I know, but the layoffs I take now clearly benefit me, as the reduced weight lifting leads to decreased eating and I end up leaner. I weighed in at 219 after UCLA. I weighed in at 234 on October 3rd. I weighed in at a searing hot 222 last Tuesday. The undulating weight patterns fuel growth, just as Pavel taught us to Wave Loads for bench pressing and other power training. I could always memorize the templates and give a student the company line, but now, I can hear it.

Read!

Sunday
0553 reveille
0730 Client
1100 Client
At the PSC all day.
1600 Join or Die

Tactical Pull Ups = 6kg x 1 set of 3
ETK ROP pressing ladders.
24kg x 1-2-3 rungs, 5 ladders.
Sumo Deadlift Repatterning: 190 x 3 sets of 5.

Today was the first day since the phone conversation with the primitive master, that I pulled sumo and felt strong. I am adapting to the stance. I am not over trained, and my itchy SI problem is in pain, but it is the pain of healing. The weight came off the floor easier, and as my PT manager said, I 'murder it from mid-shin to lockout'. it just will not fly off the ground when I ignite. Still a student, sort of studly. Off to the Joe. . .

Definition of a grind

This morning I left the house at 0500 on foot for the PSC in Ardmore. I arrived, trained my 0600 client, and then went to a coffee shop to fuel the body with caffeine and the mind with The Times. I came back and hammered out:

A] Tactical Pull Ups 3 sets of 5
B] 1 set of 10 40kg swings
C] A quick press ladder 32kg x 1RL, 36kg x 1RL, 40kg x 1RL*

*This rep was the definition of a grind. When I flared the lat and bell went nowhere, I sucked the shoulder into the socket and made it work. Squeezing the free hand, as a fist, and my inner thigh tension spiral allowed me to finish. I trained a client at 0800, and then pulled:

Sumo Deadlifts 190 x 5 sets of 3
ROP Press ladders 24kg. 5 ladders, rungs of 1-2-3.
40kg swing x 10 reps to center, walked to Trader Joe's and loaded up with grocery for the next 5 days, walked 3 miles home. Smart bombing as we speak. . .

In the last 6 weeks I have lifted more frequently per capita, and maybe in gross sessions, than I did between all of march and August of this year. In March, I had that nasty bike accident, which left my hand twisted. After that I hiked the Santa Monica mountains regularly, and hardly visited the bar or a bell. When I got back to it in June, I was delayed after two weeks due to abdominal surgery. By the time i got to Pendleton in mid-July, I was ready to work. I participated in MAX V02 15:15 testing on Pendleton and at UCLA. UCLA was where I broke free. Training at the intramural fields' with RKC, running the stairs Friday, 15:15 on Saturday, and the Grad Workout on Sunday left me highly motivated [though sore] and declared to the world that I was back. The next 13 days were spent as my final three days in Cali, my time at CK FMS, and the 5 day road trip from LA to PA. I began training again upon arrival. Since I have moved many of my bells and my TAPS unit into the Philadelphia Sports Club in Ardmore, my training has become a regularity at the gym. I am the scary guy swinging bells, doing copious amounts of pull ups, and power breathing. The hamsters ignore me. Cardio queens are scared. Other young men stroke themselves as close to the mirror as possible. I train harder than the other guy.

Days in review:
Sunday 10-5 Sumo Deadlifts
Tuesday 10-7 80 sets Max V02 15:15
Thursday 10-9 Sumo Deadlifts, Pull Ups, Flat DB Press
Friday 10-10 Pull Ups, Front Squats
Sunday 10-12 Pull Ups, Sumo Deadlifts, ROP Pressing
Monday 10-13 Pull Ups, KB Front Squats
Wednesday 10-15 Pull Ups

On each of these days I walked a minimum of 6 miles. On days like today, Friday, that number doubles, and my week starts. I recommend you buy this album.

[Hovering] 1855-2015 Thursday

Another decaf day. To preserve solid sleep patterns, and to rest up for my big 4 days at the store and the gym, I drink no caffeine Tuesday, Wednesday, or Thursday. I do, however, drink tea and try to get highly motivated with the right music. So I listened to all of The Foo Fighters 'The Colour and the Shape' yesterday before I got to the gym. Well fed from the night before, I made it a sessions of 5's and 3's.


Sumo Deadlift re-patterning, as per the conversation with MG. My SI was flared up from my 80 set peak on Tuesday, so I kept the DL'ing to a minimum.

185 x 1, 3, 5 reps.

Pull Ups x 2 sets of 5
Chin Ups x 2 sets of 5

Military Press
110 x 5, 115 x 5, 120 x 5, 120 x 5

Flat DB Press 80 x 5, 85 x 5, 90 x 5 [feeling slightly more difficult than last week].

Today: Sessions from 0600-1300, rest and recover 1300-1700. Trader Joe's 1800-0200.

Reveille was at 0400. Let it begin.



defensenutrition.com

Felt just like an ordinary day

Zero Clock deviations. Tired, sore, and decaffeinated. Walking 6 miles a day. IPod broken. Just the sounds of the Twin Cities [Havertown and Ardmore] singing to me. But Rif told me he never had a PR on a good day. I listened.

530PM Tuesday 7 October
15:15 Max V02 Protocol.
80 sets of 8 in 40 minutes.

The final 15 sets were positively grueling. I ordered three new pieces of gear yesterday, one of which was a Gymboss for the upcoming 36:36 protocol. I also picked up the revised Warrior Diet, The Anti Estrogenic Diet, and one of our newly cert'd sister swingers is sending me two Polar HR monitors with straps and all.

More to report later. It is 0415, and my work day starts with a client in 90 minutes.

Over-

Entry Wounds

15:15 Max V02 Protocol
16kilogram kettlebell
8 reps
70 sets
34:30

560 snatches of the kettlebell. Rather, 1 snatch 560 times.

OOH Rah Gunnery Sergeant Bo,
W2 out.

Completion

Conversation with other people in the gym does not always degenerate into small talk, and awkward departures. Let us take my conversation with Bob as an example. I saw Bob saddle up for some one arm barbell rows about two weeks ago. He preceded that with front squats, and I even saw him tearing into a set of wide grip chins before he called it quits. Bob has a great physique and he knows how to lift. Slow, controlled, heavy. He and I chatted briefly while we both recovered from some barbell sets in the corner of the Club. I urged him to use kettlebells, dangling from his feet, to weight his pull ups. He said it was a solid idea, and the reason he had been using the weight belt and dangling plate was because he had never considered switching it up. It wasn't broke, so why fix it? We then discussed creature comforts in the gym, and the outcome of the conversation was this: even as the hardest dudes in the gym, we still had our pet projects. He liked to flat press with dumbbells, I preferred the bar. He hadn't tried kettlebells because he loved the instability that dumbbells provide, and never thought to inquire as to what kettlebells were. I mentioned that I had not performed any DB bench press in about 4 years, and that when I did finally return to the bench, last fall, I was all about the barbell. The high arch in the lumbar spine, the tight glutes, my position fortified with feet pressed hard into the deck and my lats turned up to 11 as I 'walk' the bar out- it was all good. But if I was to urge Bob to branch out, should I not reciprocate? This was a nice guy with a strong build who lifted smart. I can learn things from everyone, correct? From the hamsters, to the meat monkeys, to the cardio queens, every body I see sings. The meat inflates himself and uses poor range of motion. The hamsters churn away on the wheel with their heart rate cranked all the way up to 35% of their Karvonen max. Cardio queens cover all their bases: Treadmill? Check. Elliptical? Check. 90 minute spinning class? You bet your bells.
Well, Bob was not one of them, nor am I. By no stretch am I the most knowledgeable lifter. Not by far. Student-master, correct? So when I landed at the PSC last night, and Bob was there hammering away with more free weights, I committed to the idea of flat DB bench. Here is what the day brought.

Wednesday 1 October
0450 reveille
0510 walk 3 miles to the gym
0600 client
0715 client
0900 client [caught a ride home]
1100 walk 3 miles to Trader Joe's [listened to Dark Side of the Moon]
12-730 Shift
At 5PM I ate an orange and took some vitamins [EFA, multi]
810Pm my lift began. Lots of pumps to open up.
2 KB Single leg dead lift 16kg x 3RL x 5RL
Pistol, 16kg x 1 LR
Flat DB Bench Press 60-65-70-75-85lbs. for sets of 5. They felt light as cotton candy. It was nice to use a DB again, after 4 years, but I like to move weight on the bench. When I kick up the bench after Level II next summer, I will remember this day. . .
Racked Front Squat 40kg x 3 sets of 3 L, 1 set of 3 R.

Level II requirements have taken over my strength practice, as I creep toward my 80 sets of MAX V02 15:15. I do not own a beast, which makes the 40 my best friend. I have to revise my strength attack for the remainder of the year. I fell 1/2 get ups, front squats, pull ups, barbell pressing, and bent presses are going to be the corner stones. Come January, when I rev up the 15:15 with a 20kg, I will relieve myself of bent presses and barbell pressing and work the ROP.

Feast-ivities: No vegetables last night.
Black beans.
Almonds.
Orzo, quinoa, brown rice medley with baby garbonzo beans, radish seeds, and barley.
Unsulphured, dried apricots.
Non-sorbate pitted prunes.
Black figs.
2 slices of multi-grain toast smeared with raw, creamy, unsalted almond butter.

All of this chow came from Trader Joe's.

Woke up at 0650 feeling amazing. Emotions are stable, it is payday, and I will be damned if it isn't nice and chilly again in PA. . .

MAX V02 15:15 debrief.

Snatching brings the user a specified bushel of pain. The shredded hands, the brutalized hamstrings, and the deep, nearly spiritual soreness that comes from high rep snatching are details of training we may all spin tales about. Be it the coveted Master of Sports ranking in Soviet GS or the Hard Styler's delight in the SSST, we chose to walk the line knowing the tar will get beat out of us along the way. I have read that professional skateboarders also revel in the fruits of a day spent rolling through city streets, tearing up curbs and giant planters, searching for the sweetest grind, and the area best fit for tricking out, leading to sore calves, backs, ripped denim, braised skin, and lost ball caps. Surfers who spend entire nights waking periodically to check the online reports [to know where they may best ride in the wee hours] tell tales of deep muscle soreness attributed to dozens of sets. Out there in the sea digging for the finest waves, in the roughest spots the coast has to offer that morning. Screaming quads, aching shoulder girdles from repeated paddle outs, and the exhausted internal battery that fuels the passion for what they do are markers of a young grom's efforts. Tribal, territorial, thorough. As New School Giriveks we are also tribal, clans banded together under the leadership of a visionary; territorial, marking our neighborhoods' best outdoor kettlebelling corners with videos posted on the web and bloggings detailing the daily due; thorough as well-we need the details on how to best snatch and best press the most and the heaviest. Achieving the most by focusing on the fewest aspects. Skaters patrol the city, surfers cruise coastlines, so naturally a Hard Stylers' home is the field, the park, rooftops. How many times have you set out for an outdoor session and torn up your callouses and posterior muscles with high rep snatches? If you are anything like me, those days are endless in number and forever in the annals.

Recently the 15:15 protocol has occupied my training schedule. Two days a week I pull up to the window on the third floor of the Philadelphia Sports Club and snatch the 16kg until the requisite sets are complete. This is what has happened in the 3 weeks since my last update.

Of 8 Snatches
Tuesday 10 September 35 sets
Sunday 15 September 45 sets
Thursday 19 September 50 sets
Sunday 27 September 60 sets

OOH Rah,
W2 over-

Like a Viking

The Dane of Pain is in my brain.

Max V02 Protocol for Saturday, 7 September, 1000AM. It was humid, it stormed all night, and I was sweating before I even woke up. I remembered what Marty wrote in The Primitive, that he enjoys training in sauna like conditions, as he feels his muscularity and joints getting lubed up as the workout goes on. It motivated the heck out of me, as I am so stinking tight every morning, that I am actually afraid to workout in the wee hours, fearing that a neck or subscapular injury is right around the corner. Instead, the heat and humidity did aid in working me open, and I hit a full 30 sets of the protocol, the final 16 with the coveted 20kg. . .

Set #-Hand-Heart Rate in BPM
16KILOGRAMS
1-R-108
2-L-111
3-R-130
4-L-130
5-R-NOT RECORDED [NR]
6-L-135
7-R-145
8-L-155
9-R-155
10-L-155
11-Right NR
12-Right NR
13-Right NR
14-R-155
15-L-NR
16-L-NR
Switch to 20kg to elevate HR and test the waters. . .
17-L-NR
18-L-NR
19-L-NR
20-L-165
21-R-165
22-R-NR
23-R-NR
24-R-NR
25-L-NR
26-L-165
27-L-NR
28-L-NR
29-L-NR
30-L-183

And for the Commandant, and the fallen, and the heroes of our past, I snatched the 20kg 25 reps left, 15 right, and then went to work. I nailed push ups all day at the store in sets of 10. I believe I hit around 22 sets. I took home some serious chow that night for the next day, and last night, at 230AM when I got home from work, I cooked up some Warrior Fuel.

Raw-Carrots
Steamed-Mushrooms, Zucchini, Onions, green/red/yellow peppers
Grilled-10 ounces of wild caught Mahi Mahi steak, no seasoning, just ocean flavor.
Roasted cauliflower, zucchini and yellow squash.

I mixed the roasted gear with Trader Joe's Harvest Grains blend [small serving of orzo, radish seeds, and other stuff], and made a Gorgonzola cheese sauce that was just ridiculously good. I also ate a large serving of raw almonds, a large serving of roasted, salted Pepitas [seeds], and some bittersweet Belgian chocolate that I warmed up and cut into small squares and ate in tandem with some black mission figs. When that was done, I ate a bowl of Kashi cereal from my roommates stash, as I could not get enough chow yesterday! Honestly, I was starving, but wait until you see my workout and you will know why. . . Needless to say, I feel amazing today.

At the club yesterday I used the electronic scale as well as the bio-impedance body fat measurement [all one unit]. I also weighed myself on the 'doctor's scale' in the locker room, and took comparative notes. Though I took circumference measurements yesterday at the gym, and they listed my waist as having grown one inch since the last set of measurements, I am not freaking. From what I can see and what people tell me, I am ripped and look happy, two important factors to both my future and my students' transformation. A girl at Trader Joe's actually asked to touch me butt. She said she had been watching me since I started working there and could not contain her enthusiasm anymore. This girl is a homosexual, which added to my joy in my gluteal achievements. She doesn't even like men, but just had to touch the booty. That, my friends, is Hard Style.

Scale weight 227 lbs.
Electronic device measurements, 228.6 pounds, and 7.5% body-fat. That may be inaccurate, but it is accurate unto itself. Whatever tools helps me stay off the well traveled path of the self-saboteur, and on the road to the kingdom of simple treasures will stay in the rotation, no matter how 'metro' they may be. Check out my lift yesterday! And remember, I do not strive for crazy poundage anymore, it is always, and always has been, about perfect form. Now I bail when it gets too tough on my neck/shoulders.

1 set of 5 tactical pull ups.
Barbell clean and press, from the floor 135 x 3, 145 x 3 [easy, tiger] 135 x 2 more sets of 3.
See Saw Press 24kg x 3 sets of 5 reps [these felt amazing].
This was horrible, I grabbed a 24kg and went for-
20 seconds of swings, 10 seconds of milk-shaking, for 10 sets. Tabata, modified.

I scared half of the Philly Sports Club away. I looked like an inmate among visitors on the dance floor. I was fully representing with Cross Country kettlebell gear. My head-wear was a black skull beanie that advertised Firebellz [536 Jefferson St., Albuquerque], and my t-shirt was from the arsenal of RKC Camp Pendleton graduate Charlie Bergeron, USMC vet and R.I. State Trooper. The t-shirt bore the logo for Body Armor, Johnston, Rhode Island's premier Hard Style training facility.

So that's what my weekend was all about! Gay women grabbing my arse, barbells going up overhead, 93% humidity training sessions, massive rainstorms, power outages, training clients again, eating Gorgonzola cheese, drinking coffee at all hours, working to be better at fewer things [which makes all things more accessible, oddly enough], and watching the Eagles get a W. A Big W.

Oscar, uniform, tango.

Max Victory Overdrive Sqaured

Before I get into the nastiness of the Max VO2 protocol, i would like to congratulate RKC Candidate Mike Barbato, of Malvern PA, for the excellent turnout for his Labor Day class. He listed a bunch of nasty drills and reps for the manifest, and to stay healthy and injury free, I modified the workout. You will see the list after this post. I have been hitting this nice and hard since I got home. I administered this training at the RKC on Camp Pendleton, and I participated at the training while instructing at the UCLA RKC. I have had a workout partner for three of the four sessions I have run since August 18th. I operate in Kill Mode whether partnered up or not, however the young lady operates better when a motivated RKC is there to guide her. During yesterday's session, her hands were baptized once again in the fires of Copenhagen's finest, the Max V02 as brought to us by Master RKC Kenneth Jay. Here is the raw data.

Paddock Park located in Havertown, Pennsylvania
5pm Thursday August 29Th, a circuitously run session.

Pull Up 1-1-2-2-2-2
Single Leg Wide Grip Push Up 3-3-1-3-3-1
Parallel Grip Chins 1-1-2-2-2-2

[8 is our number]
Max V02 with Sarah, RKC certified [for personal gain, not for career reasons] 2007.
I used a 16kg, she an 8kg.
16kg x 15 sets each arm, alternating for 30 total sets. Finishing HR was 135.

Yesterday, 2 September 2008 at 4PM
I used a 16kg, she went for a 12kg and shredded her hands! Haaard-Styyyle.
Max V02, our number is 8.
Alternating arms, 5 sets each, HR 135+
Right arm, 10 sets consecutive, HR 150+/-
Left arm, 10 sets consecutive, HR 140+

We measured our HR by hand, as payday is not until Thursday, but the HR monitor is on the shopping list, you bet'cha.

I noticed that I can use a 16kg and jack my HR up by not switching arms every set. This may or may not be good for me. The trick to specifying my training is paying attention to what happens for the week before an injury comes. Last week, my neck exploded as I was yelling at Sarah to not be a chicken-head when she performs high rep ballistic pulls. Ironic? No. I did not sleep in August and just settled in to a nice new bed, that is so stiff and barely has any give, it reminds me of Squad Bay days with 1st platoon [Trust-Dog where you at??]. So with my back and neck adjusting to sleeping in a bed, it was natural that i would fire up some of the musculature on the side of my neck. it stopped hurting after two days, which was fantastic. When I would baby the injury and lay flat, feeling bad for myself and cursing the 3 vehicle wrecks I have been in since 1995, the pain would last a week [hmmmmmmm ;)]. The 16kg may be good for me in that I can explore The Third Way with KJ's Max V02 science, and stay lean/injury free/in-the-know all at the same time. The 16kg may be bad for me in only one way: I am not really sure if the high volume is OK for my neck, as a 225 pound, healthy, HAPPY, kettlebelling Will Williams has never existed before-trip out on this.

Will Williams was introduced to Pavel in 2000-2001 by Muscle Media magazine, high tension techniques and hyper-irradiation followed immediately.

2003 saw Will training with a kettle stack and studying The Russian Kettlebell Challenge on VHS [gangster, yes it is] as well as Cruel and Unusual. . .also on VHS.

Christmas 2003 I received my first 'bell, a Dragon Door 16kg from a client in Vegas. i actually just dialed 411 to get her on the phone and say thanks, but I left a message for what I think is the wrong #.

January 2004 I purchased a 24kg Dragon using my own money and Craig James' Sjostrom's desktop computer. The rest is history.

What you may not know is that from the very start of all this, I was well over 225lbs. In fact, the only time I was below 230 was from April-September 2002, and that was my 'I just got out of the USMC let's be ripped and go clubbin' in Atlanta stage'. As soon as summer was over, I stopped shaving my body and went back to listening to Pavel.

So now, minus a lot of emotional baggage and over 50 pounds, I stand to gain everything. Whether I am injured regularly or not, I am now clear enough of mind that even if I wreck my neck in training, I can explore the data and retool.. Whereas before I would feel really sorry for myself and eat an Italian Hoagie. I stand to gain from the training, the learning, the spiritual growth, and the progression that I hope will follow, that is, 50 sets with a 16kg for max V02, followed by a visit to the starting line where I man up with a 20kg. If I can hang with 50 sets and a 20kg bell, I will have battered one demon into the ground, that is, neck pain will come and go, the question being will I let it be the albatross or will I drink some tea, find a workout partner, and make my own sunshine? And I lied, having a partner helps in more ways than one. I can train hard on my own, by getting over myself takes a good spotter.

I am out,
W2

Labor Day Workout
Get Up, 16kg: 5 x 1 each arm [10], followed by 1 set of 5 each arm [20 total].
Pull Ups: 20 tactical, 18 parallel grip chins, in sets of 3 and 5 [38 total].
Jerk 16kg x 10 right and left, Double 20kg x 2 sets of 10.
Body Weight Squat x 20, rest 1:30, x 30, DONE. We proceeded to the House of Murph and ate a Warrior Diet feast. Raw carrots and cucumbers with hummus to dip, roasted cauliflower and carrots drizzled with EVO, sprinkled with sea salt, grilled asparagus, red pepper, and portobella 'shrooms, drizzled with EVO and sea salt. Two big tuna steaks, fresh not frozen, for me, and then I ate 3 apples and a block of cubed cheddar. Drank a 1/2 can of Diet Coke before remembering how nasty artificial sweeteners are for the mechanism, and then drank lots of water with lemon.

Hybrid theory

At 2PM I went to the park and hit up 6 sets of 3 tactical pull ups, some Brettzels, and listened to Coldplay while laying in the sun. The weather here in PA is unreal for August.

1000PM
Watching the Phillies rally back to win and take first place, I sat reviewing the Purposeful Primitive 'cardio methods', Marty Gallagher listed The Dane of Pain's Cardiovascular Kettlebell Concepts as a method of third way aerobic training. That was all I needed.

Max VO2 Protocol: 20kg x 8 reps
7 sets alternating left and right, followed by 3 sets for the left arm, and then three sets for the right arm.

20 sets total, using the 15 seconds on/15 seconds fast and Loose standard.

Finished with 24kg swings
5rl, rest :15
10rl, rest :15
10 h2h, rest :15
10r-10L-10 two handed, done.

220 hip extensions at 1030PM. Then I crushed 3 huge cucumbers with sea salt, a massive bowl of steamed baby bok choi-broccoli-spinach, 8oz of Greek style yogurt, 2 scoops of whey with water, and then a big nasty bowl of spaghetti with tomato sauce and two cubed zucchini [one yellow squash, one green]. Drank some orange pekoe tea, watched an X-Files, went to bed.

What have you got for me to learn today, friends?

A rebirth of high art, as food

Because I am so sure that you all wanted an update.

I have been Warriorizing. Swinging the blade and blazing the trail and trailing the flock to secure the 6 O-clock. I am picking up the rear, no worries. Those of us who know the way of the fast and feel the ghost of primates past careening through our chakras can rest, assured. I have explained the premise of the Warrior Diet to over 2 dozen people in the last 30 days, and in the recent fortnight have clocked over 75 hours in the kitchen alone. Or that is an exaggeration. I have carried groceries out of the Trader Joe's I work at 3 nights a week, and have only deviated from the Rules of Eating once in the last, oh, do you really care? What I am trying to tell you, through this wading pool of pseudo-cool, is that all the hard work in the kitchen, on the hikes, and defending the premise has given me a bushel of motivation to carry into the eating pattern. What I am saying is that the weight I have lost since January may be declared K.I.A if I can get to training again within the next two weeks [but more on that later]. Warriorizing you ask? Yes. Defending the diet by turning heads while shirtless and captivating ears while queried.

A guy I know, who is a leatherneck, and was on Pendleton with 5th Marines while I was with the 1st Marine Regiment, fired away with a barrage of questions today regarding the WD. We spoke of catabolism, starvation, gluttony, constant feedings, but top-athletes eat four times a day! Eating at night, eating only at night [this blows everyones mind], and skipping breakfast were all topics we hit on. And through the last month, through the many, many times I have explained why it works, how, and how come, I have learned to trim the fat around my arguments and come up with some simpler, and in some cases more virulent answers to defend the cause. It works because it only works if you follow the rules. It can be done if you taper into it properly. I do it to save time, money, keep my insulin levels bottomed out all day, feel clearer and sharper while the sun is up, and to facilitate a great celebration at the end of every day marking another chance to keep my blood together. After a few minutes and solid exchanges I pulled rank on him. Since 1997 I have been actively in pursuit of the finest methods which promote weight loss, muscular development, strength and strength endurance, and excellence in performance. I have been learning and applying the behavior patterns associated with all forms of ordered and disordered eating and I have taken more than an active interest in this lifestyle. It has become my life. It is what I do. He said he reads about it and knows a lot about it, and in response I immediately thought of what I see him eating every day, twice a day: Chicken breast and brown rice. He eats oatmeal and shakes for breakfast. He trains weights and cardio all week. I responded with "Bro I know you are down to train but I have been learning and experimenting on warm bodies since 97, starting with my own", and then I summed it up with "The WD and Hard Style will change a body faster than anything else". I wanted, badly, to say "OK dude shirts off, lets go!" and let the evidence loose, but that would have been pyro-aggro inflammatory monkey shines. I know how sexy the girls think I'm not. Even if he does, too. Yes, you may have to start yourself by eating good, regularly first. Yes many people need to ease into it.

So let those confused carbohydrate addicts wander alone, unsupervised and uninformed. If the vessel is SO soft that they need to eat to gain muscle mass so as to have reason to eat, then fire them up with a Fit For Life diet. But I am convinced that the body can get by on just a very little food, a whole bucket of water, and serious hard work on both the physical and visceral plane every day. We do not need to eat four meals a day. We vessels, draped in flesh but bound for armor, need not a yogurt and salad at 1000 and then by 1500 another serving of, whatever. Have a handful of this in the afternoon. Enjoy hot cup of that in the zero hours. It can work for you. If you cannot control your portions you are disgusting red white and blue in the face glutton. Go pay your 89$ gym membership and train your your knees to fall off.

Righteous as I sound, I love to learn. I love to learn especially when someone who contests me is professional, passionate, and polite. In that respect I hope that some of you disagree. I wish to encounter you at a table and chairs and a pot of hot coffee some day so we may speak. If I am in the company of anyone who believes what they do with my matched enthusiasm, then we can both learn something. We both will. If not with respect to the opposing eating plan then certainly we'll dine on the bit we chomp at together. The talk I had with old Laughner brought me around to thinking that once again I am out of the mainstream. And as before my visibility in the retail and RKC community will get the conversation moving. When asked where I train or how I eat, as before, I will preface my opening statement with this, the essence of the Purposeful Primitive-"I am trying to do fewer things better".

Twin Cities in the house, what 'cha gonna do

Go awol! St. Paul, where you at? LA, where you at? Bridging the gap, where you at-at? Oh my goodness UCLA is here. Call it uklah the mok or the House the Dragon built, this weekend is going to be the sick like malaria. I feel the spirit of the Little Dragon on this mission with us, guys and dolls. It feels real. Denmark snuck up on me, the Double Shot Rockstar express from Utah to Camp Pendleton kneed me in the nuts and then threw me down like unwanted popsicle, and this weekend has been standing at the finish line giving me the finger since last December . I am as amped for this evolution as I have ever been for anything, yet the vessel is tired. Not limping along like a beaten mule, but the wires and pivot points, hinges and swivel bits are all creaky from a lack of proper lubrication. After the gut was sliced open for surgery to repair a hernia, I avoided most prolonged hip extension and ALL hardcore back bending, arching, or even standing fully erect. 10 days off from work and a whole lot of non-exercise later, I began walking to and fro work again, as well as some light stretching and mobility. My forced relaxation has come back around, but the mobility has not lubed me up proper yet, and just today did I pick up bell, in a sock puppeted hand, and rip off 5 swings LR, 5 Tsnatches LR, 5 C&P LR, and again 5 Tsnatches LR. I felt great doing so, and then after a shift at the observatory [not really an observatory, thought that would be a gnarly place to work] I felt wrecked. My high thoracic musculature is uber tight, and the right latissimus is as jacked up as the left one. But you know what? I cannot say shite about shite because this is the path and I walk hard. So what, right? My back is tight. The solution? No bells tomorrow. There are innocent men in jail, and my back is tight. Kiss the sky and move on.
I am running a team at UCLA, but not teaching any of the core curriculum, something that at first was off putting, but made much sense upon review. Check it: The assistants and I have a group to run, and that is our mission. The early schedule has me administering the Tsnatch test rules and a swing weight-ladders 'practice session'. Just like Staff Sergeant Sykes, I thank God for every day on the field. Ooh, Rah. I am going to sleep on a nice hotel floor, with two sheets and three pillows, wrapping with Nepodal about whatever, and for sure bumping my gums with a bushel of swell cats and kittens all days and nights. Buffet dinner on the Warrior Diet? Fuckin' right. Pumping and mobility-ing with the team all weekend? Yes, Sir. Watching Bruce move his feet with greater precision and eloquence than any upright organism time immemorial? Heck yes. And once again I am on the same field with greats like Brett Jones, Pavel, Marks Cheng and Reifkind, and tapping the strengths of the instructor corps, the DD staff, and the gentle guidance of JDC. Should be a bloody bash of bells and bellies swelled by buffet bravery. I will detail the minutes from my recent two feedings.
Monday evening
Cube and roast 1 massive zucchini squash with EVOO and sea salt.
Steam 1 big bag of baby spinach.
Slice artfully, and saute 2 baby bok choi bulbs in:
[EVOO, water, and soy sauce, sprinkling in minced garlic and sea salt].
Place ½ the spinach in blender with 6 eggs, BLEND! Pour into glassware and cook.
Quiche! Season with black pepper and use ketchup to spice it up [yum].
Cook 1 cup of whole wheat rotini.
When the bok choi is done, I lay it over the small serving of spinach, and eat it like so. I then enjoy ½ the zucchini and a big cup of water. Out comes the quiche. Ketchup and black pepper east coast scrambled eggs style! I mix the roasted zuc cubes in with the pasta, and pour whatever juicy goodness from both sets of vegetables over the mix. I save money by not buying pasta sauce and I keep my meals [and hopefully my life on Earth] cyclical. I had some fage [Greek yogurt, amazing] with maple syrup added for desert on Saturday night, and last night I ate a grapefruit and three bananas for dessert.
Tuesday night, I tried something different. The night crew at Trader Joe's has been cranking that soulja boy every night breaking down like 60 boxes per person and putting insane products on the shelf between 9 and 11pm. We close at 9 and in order to gas up for the big closedown, I ate at the 'huddle' [product tasting, recap of the day] for only the third or fourth time in my 4 months there. When I got home, I obeyed the rules of warrior eating, and had
4 roasted zucchini spears, 2 nice cuts of freshwater salmon, a small serving of pasta, a large bag of pistachios, a dozen medjool dates, and some [5] Hansen's Diet Soda. Sad to say I caved and have been back on the crack. Which is whack, I know, but I gave them up before. It can be done. Though I am drinking one now.
What I noticed is that I have to eat before I leave the store. I must set aside 5 rubles to grab some baby spinach and cheese for a blast right as we close. When I get home I can obey the rules, start over, and grind on. It would be easy for me to say 'salad at the store and then pick up with protein and carbs at home', but damn me! I know who's in charge. Raw at the huddle and again with raw at the house. here is what I have planned for 5 minutes from now
1 yellow squash, 1 red pepper, baby spinach, sunflower seeds = Salad.
Scrambled eggs with ketchup and black pepper.
Fancy dates, yummy.


It is 0134 and I am on.

I want to believe

"I come from an Island,
a motivated Island,
Parris Island, the land that God forgot"
-Old USMC running cadence

Within my chest is the soul of a man, just like other men. I am an American, a patriot, a troubled poet and a short wick'd candle. No longer marching under blind allegiance, nonetheless a Marine that would lay down suppressing fire for you. Since the false flag operations of 9/11 and the resultant loss of life, my faith in the government has been shaken yet my belief that this country needs a Marine Corps has not and will not waiver. Our flag is unfurled to every breeze, from dawn, 'till setting sun. We need the 'Corps because we need men and women to come out on the other side. We need the transformation the USMC is known for to turn young vessels into armor clad war dogs. We must, because when those kids grow up, and the veil of illusion is removed, they become great helpers of men, and mankind.

When I walked into the office of the Marine Corps recruiters on 1 April 1997, they told me I had infantry written all over me. They said that if I thought about any other profession it would be an insult to myself, my family, my country, and the 'Corps. I signed that dotted line, I shaved my head, and started working out to lose weight and get prepped. I shipped to boot camp on 26 April 1998, and graduated USMC recruit training 10 years ago today. 10 years. My goodness. I am sure there are thousands of Marines out there that remember the day just as clearly as I do.
This day, 24 July, is more important to me than any birthday, or any holiday. This day trumps any near-perfect drunken concert experience [Tool, 2006], and can only be rivaled by days where pure exercise induced 'nirvana' and mental quietude have led to further personal revelation. For this day, 10 years gone, was the last time my mother and her sister ever stood aside one another [both alive, but estranged]. For on this day, 10 years ago, the 42 Marines of platoon 3056, 3rd Battalion Company L were dismissed by our Senior Drill Instructor, Staff Sergeant Acevedo-Colon as a team. 3056 started with 81 bodies, and only 42 graduated. a 50% attrition rate. When they called for the dismissal of our platoon, and we all shouted "Aye SIR!", and about faced to let loose one, huge, collective "OOH RAH!", we, the 42 remaining, along with the 200 other Marines in Company L, knew that our lives would never be the same. We arrived on the Island on differing dates, coming from places as polarizing as Philly and Bangor, Maine, but we all left together. Some went home, some had no home. Some called the Island home. Some will forever call the 'Corps home, and for them, I live this life.

My father, Eric Sr., my mother Debbie, and my younger brother by 5 years Joseph Raymond Williams all made the 12 hour drive from Philly to South Carolina to watch 3056 graduate. When the morning was done, we left the Island and made the requisite stop at Burger King. Double whopper cheese, B&W milkshake, and some onion rings were dispatched to my gut module. I felt sick the whole ride home! When we got back to PA, it was close to midnight. I made a trip to the Wawa, and got home fast asleep. Already 'homesick' for the Island. ON 25 July, the very next day, I went to the AMC Marple-Ten theater and watched THE X-FILES: FIGHT THE FUTURE. That was 25 July 1998, and I was a fan of only 2 years. AT midnight, when my mighty mighty day becomes the 25Th, I will be sitting in a movie theater watching THE X-FILES: I WANT TO BELIEVE. You read correctly. 10 years after the first X-Files movie, and 10 years after I left my island, I am there again in spirit, intent, and celebrating with the same media. Unreal, right? No, this is as real as it gets. This what happens when the kid who was told he could do it all finally smashed through the first of many walls and got back on the level with you all. This is the life, and the time, of a man no longer ashamed of his weaknesses,no longer veiling his troubles, and once again aware that with my understanding of this world comes the need to BE the change I set out to help you all with. 10 years removed from the most glorious day on memory, it is more clear than ever, that you are the world. I am the world. This is our life and the mind of no mind will always lay in wait for us. The clockwork-like clarity that I wield now will bring me closer to my truth, and bring you closer to yours. Men and women, Jarheads and long-haired warriors, I salute you.

W2 out.

" Chesty Puller was a good Marine and a good Marine was He
He called for his pipe and he called for his bowl and he called for his privates 3
Beer Beer Beer said the privates... merry ole men are we
The Army is fair but it can't compare to the Marine Corps Infantry

Chesty Puller was a good Marine and a good Marine was he
He called for his pipe and he called for his bowl and he called for his Corporals 3
Left Right Left said the Corporals
Beer Beer Beer said the privates
Merry ole men are we
The Army is fair but it can't compare to the Marine Corps infantry

Chesty Puller was a good Marine and a good Marine was he
He called for his pipe and he called for his bowl and he called for his Sergeants 3
We do all the work said the Sergeants
Left Right Left said the Corporals
Beer Beer Beer said the privates
Merry ole men are we
The Army is fair but it can't compare to the Marine Corps Infantry"

Tales of the left hand

Arise and walk. Up and at 'em. Drop your cock and grab your socks, reveille reveille reveille!!! From a slice in the gut to the raw left hand, this vessel carried on just fine during a three day kettlebell jaunt to Salt Lake City, and Marine Corps Base Camp Pendleton, CA. This Jarhead was stoked to have been invited to teach on base for the closed RKC workshop/cert run by Pavel and a tight team of 6. The trip began long ago, in third story apartment in Ardmore, PA. Minutes walk from the train station, the bars, the gym, and my high school. James Sjostrom RKC, my comrade from Utah, worked in a gym on the main line, and we both rallied around Dragon Door and the bells. he moved back to Utah in 2005, and he and his lovely wife and seven week old son Atticus had me as their guest for Friday and Saturday. James in an excellent instructor who was dialed into the Sports Mall in Murray, Utah. We were south of Salt Lake City, and had a crew of 10 to experiment on. There were moms, dads, weight-loss success stories, and Crossfit trainers in attendance. Crossfit 801's Tyson Oldroyd, USMC, had a great day out training and rewiring his get-ups to RKC spec. James and I, also prior service USMC, enjoyed the six hour session and compiled a handsome manual for our students to take away. Tyson and I were stationed with the same regiment on Pendleton from 98-01. Funny how these things work eh?
Saturday drew to a close, with the students participating in a grad workout, and James and I headed up the mountain. We needed a place for our heads, and climbing a small fraction of an 11,000 foot 'hill' in Utah proved to be that place. Paranoid looking over our back, we saw the face within gaining on us. We trucked up past the mirror lake, and followed the stream up for 88 minutes until we met the face of a rocky crevasse that also served as a granite waterfall, where the melting snow from the white caps fell over the sharply angled rock, and created a line of cold, clear, slake worthy water that filled the lake we would descend upon. The way down was slick, sick, and sparked a conversation between my quads and calves before long. James and I spent more than a minute at the top, and the trip down proved a good 45 minutes. The lake was around 55 degrees and we dove in without dipping so much as a toe in the glassy pocket of purifying h20. We chilled ourselves out, and feasted on Salmon, spinach salad, sliced fruit and nuts for dessert, and I mowed down some chocolate truffles and milk while splayed on the couch, AC firing at the cyclic rate, Dewey Cox's life story on the tele. Holly drove me to the airport Sunday AM, and the triple espresso had me humming my way through another glorious day of internal and external sunshine. Boarded a plane with ease, sat behind an adorable 2 year old girl who stole the sports page out of my hand and said 'Hi' whenever she could liberate her pacifier. When the 50 passenger jet descended at Lindbergh Field, RKC Team Leader, US Marine, and friend Mark Toomey greeted me and we rogered up for a rental car and sped off to the hotel. The rental car is a story you can ask Pavel about if you ever have the man's ear. He will paint a 'pretty' picture for you.
Pavel joined us at the hotel, as did Trusty RKC the following morning. Through the amplified arches of Starbucks quad espresso and onto my old duty station of Camp Pendleton, the four of us met Steve Belanger RKC, Paul Daniels RKC TL, and Robert 'Bam' Budd and formed the alliance. The Snake of Seven Lengths pulled it's quietly advertised but expertly prepared belly up to the lighter side of Marine Corps life, and gave that class a cold bath of Hard Style proportions. Expecting a workshop that introduced them to bells, the crew was met with a paramilitary force toting presses and snatches rather than M16s. We were the armor clad war dogs of Base HQ, and on the grand parade field we lay waste to bad habits and rewired the fleshy humans into a group of wide awake kettlebell candidates. I am not at liberty to discuss any further specifics nor am I allowed to post photos taken on Camp Pendleton until the public affairs office clears me, but know ye that the group is ready for more, and the instructors who speaketh of the bell were dialed into a level few will know. We moved with ease, precision, and treated the kids fairly. The 5 members who were certified will be known throughout the RKC community soon. Both of the Ladies who passed were from another planet. You will know them when you see them. And all I can say about Charlie Bergeron RKC is that Johnston and Providence have an incredible chance to train with one of this countries most pure patriots. Defending both Country and State, USMC vet and RI State Trooper Bergeron is here to stay.

Godspeed ya boys and girls!
W2

Kanpai!

You want more?!!???!!!!! You desire a W.O.D but can't dig on your regular resource today? Come, son, I've got a treasure chest of Russian Gold to share with a select few. . .

Whiskey Oscar Delta
Joint Mobility to include KB/plate halos, 5 clockwise/counter
Pumps, 2 sets of 5, prying on odd numbered reps.
Do the milkshake*

Barbell Works
Sumo Dead-lift x 3 sets of 5
Military press x 5 sets of 3

Hanging Garden of Babylon
Wide Grip Pull Ups x 3 sets of 7, 5, or 3. Use whatever scheme your vessel would benefit from.

Turkish Get Up
3 reps each arm, keep it smart.

So today I trained the fit and trim and shoulder-tweaked Lady L. We went after a new drill today, and turned her proficient DL/Swing form onto a barbell for the first time. 75lbs, 2 sets of 5, and her Sumo style was stylin'. She came into it when I mentioned that her but had to drop a la Box Squat, or, and this is the entire point of this post, a hybridization of the squat and DL. She locked onto that verbal cue and the next 2 sets of 5 Sumos were dog-gone stinkin' delightful.

*The Milkshake, a joint mobility drill showed to me by Pavel at a recent RKC, requires that you press your flat and extended hands/wrists in front of you and shake vigorously. Not side to side hard core, just an agitating motion like that of a washing machine's gears, and quick like. When the user understates the gelatinous, unhooked feeling in their meat, they will know the meaning of fast and loose. it feels incredible once you grip this: The pec/front delt is going to be tight and short, but everything else can fall away from the bone and get relaxed via Good Vibrations.

My Ass Rode In Navy Equipment, M-a-r-i-n-e. OOH RAH.

Squad,
This is the week we were reborn in the tank. Trusty and I got some bells wet, and found a rhythm with doubles and heavy singles. A pair of 20kg was used for all the double work, save for some 2 x 16kg walks to the bottom and back. We also partnered up and practiced passing one bell to another a la relay games, and came up with a flawless bump to hold that allows your man to spear his hand thorough the bell and assume a safe carry.

The fun stuff came in the 2ND quarter, when we were oriented and ready to play ballistic games. Double power snatches, caught int he bottom of an overhead squat, were tons of fun, as was the submerged double dead power clean to double sots press to double overhead squat concentric. No rules baby, the water was safe.
Trusty is a waterman, or a 'fish' as they are referred to in the 'Corps. I am what the CWS instructors called a 'rock', meaning that I sank. And it wasn't because I was lean, as I was not, I just had some mechanical issues like not being able to float. I could tread water and swim, but when submerged or asked to float I was in trouble. I love the water,however, and knock-wood I have not gotten an ear infection yet. I used the Netti pot about 12 days ago ,and should follow suit today.
So the training went from fun to focused with my addition to the curriculum, a 'get up' from the bottom of the pool. Using two bells, I set them in chest deep water, and sat straddling them submerged. I curled/cleaned the bells into a rack, pulled my feet and hips into a squat, and stood up. Taking the weight back down was cherry. Trusty got creative and wanted to press after every squat, yet I filmed pressing footy yesterday from 4-5 in the hot sun, and opted to only crank out those double sots presses to OH squat.
N doubt the hardest thing for me was to walk the bell to the bottom of the pool [10'] and back with any bell. I mismanaged my breathing and of course could not drop the bell when I panicked, so instead I had to bound up like the Hulk, and grab some air. From the bottom, I walked that bell out to the tune of my own HR at 200. Treading water while Trusty ran his bell was a delight.
Who has experience with this? Who was played Military water games and partner assisted carries and tactical bell relief? Who has developed get ups from the bottom of a poll, or done renegade rows from the bottom of the pool? I imagine there is a Sailor or Marine bo'sun who has a use for this skill set. We are building the toolbox. Stand by.

KSC

Pressing Matters chapter 3

team,
I had a sick poolside session. They say it was 100 degrees in the shade. But the bell abides.

Pumps to loosen up, prying a bit. Purple Jump Stretch band shoulder dislocates, felt hard. Leaning into it was primal.
16kg swings, sets of 5 and 10 each arm. Logging in. . .

Press
16kg Double x 3
20kg See Saw x 3
20kg double x 3
32kg Ipsilateral 1 Leg Deadlift x 3 rl
28kg C&P 1rl for 3 each side.

I repeated this cycle using sets of 5 for all drills. I felt up to spec and worked through my midsection. I press like a piston these days. Caught myself in mid-slice about 6 weeks ago-I have been shifting my weight foot-to-nasty foot in my presses and developing an uncool lordotic in the ignition stage of my pressing. To correct it, light doubles with a hard forward lean, and a revisit with the arc I create on lift-off. Light doubles keep my neck and high-thoracic unkinked and the access to Trusty's 28kg makes the 24-28-32kg range complete, and the double 16 and 20 work can now serve as a remedial series while not taking my neck module off line. I am on it. As are you. I imagine nice numbers and solid menu in your session today.

W2 out

Click through for FOX 11 Los Angeles story on KS&C

The RKC Prep Course is a five week, 10 Hour Program that requires the student to actively embark upon a training evolution designed to minimize potential for failure at the Russian Kettlebell Certification, and amplify the user's understanding of kettlebells to facilitate a more complete training experience.

Justin Garfield and Will Williams, both Russian Kettlebell Certified, have developed a program that addresses the numerous weaknesses in the game of attendees at the RKC. Will Williams has participated or instructed at nearly 10 Russian Kettlebell training evolutions, and has watched the program progressively reach the height we see it at now.

The RKC is a three day training operation that many people believe they will pass through the process of registration/payment and attendance. The reality of the RKC can be striking, and has sent people packing on days 1, 2, and 3. Everything from a battered ego to sunburn can mess with the student's disposition, and 10 hours with the instructors of KS&C will surely prepare your fleshy vessel and brain housing group for the conversion that is elemental to completing the RKC.

You may register for the RKC Prep Course via PayPal at our blog
www.k-sac.blogspot.com

Or you may register in person at either of the classes held during the week. You need not be registered for the RKC to attend the course, though you must be serious about the commitment you make to KS&C, the kettlebell, and the RKC principles. If you are registered for the RKC, notify us immediately through channel:

kettlebelltrainer@gmail.com

Cost 300.00 payable via Pay Pal at www.k-sac.blogspot.com

Event Listing: 5 Classes, 4 Private 45 minute training sessions.

Group Classes Saturdays at 0800, Sherman Oaks Park, Sherman Oaks, California. We muster at the pull up bars by the pool.
Classes to be held every Saturday from June 28 through July 26, with NO CLASS ON SATURDAY JULY 12.

You may contact us with any questions at all regarding the curriculum, the kettlebell, or our rates.

The Warrior Diet

After you get in the Warrior Diet groove, you will find that pressing, pulling, flipping, banging, smashing, kipping, snatching, jerrking, and all movements not mentioned is a pleasant add to your day. Let me go OFF on this tangent I just spawned in my headspace, and you shall understand. . .If strength is a skill, and should be approached as so, and sets of drills we know are satisfactory can be applied all day every day with nothing but positive gains to report, then why is not food as fuel approached from the same angle? Oh wait, yeah it is. Some guy who I recognized as an author for Penthouse Magazine wrote a book that did not exactly wow Oprah, but helped me lose 20kg of nasty adipose in 16 weeks To the DAY [at a lean body mass of 105kgs that is not that hard]. It is called The Warrior Diet, and it makes more sense than a set of arithmetic flash cards. 1+6=pood. Graze + GTG= lean and daggone MEAN!

Since moving to CA and adopting an attitude that has seriously corrected bad eating behavior, and using the warrior diet as HOMEBASE, and training in doses of 3 or 5 moments of strength [shout out to Kevin and Russell Jodrey of Redwood Kettlebell Club and A. Diluglio of PUNCH, all of which are RKC, all of which are about the multiple minutes of strength during the day] each day, I have kept musculoskeletal aches at bay and developed a mutated degree of freshness with my Session Based Energy. Whenever I tap that keg, and the bells are moving or the calisthenics train is hummin', I am good to go minus a single thought to what my glycemic load is. Now, did I answer the question regarding Your energy levels? Maybe. But I showed you a model that runs parallel between two of the most important avenues in our human lifetimes- chow and training. We do not eat and exercise, we take a chow time and author moments of strength. We eat a handful of grapes and drink a glass of milk. When we see a 'bell we press it. You go to business lunch with other gerbils and they order buffalo wings and beer. You order 3 boiled eggs and have a good morning stretch in the loo. They eat, you fuel. They burn calories, you burn the fat off your soul. Of this brotherhood of iron, this merry band of jolly tamers, we are united. For he who sheds a minute to press, and uses his palm as a measure of chow requirements, is my brother. [sisters too! I love girls who lift]

So follow the warrior diet and grease the groove with every move.

Memorial

When someone asks if the RKC Code is backed by true humanity, or if it is just an esoterically encrypted disclaimer, send them this post.

From Dr. Mark Cheng, RKC Team Leader, to Mark Toomey RKC TL [Reno, Nevada] and myself.

Brethren RKC TLs ---

I'd like to thank the both of you for the service you put in for our country as Leathernecks. You've both been in my thoughts of gratitude all day. Were it not for you and those like you, I'd likely not have had the chance to spend the afternoon earlier with my son in the park without having to carry a gun or speaking Pashtun.

Gratefully,

Your favorite Chinaman
Dr. Mark Cheng, L.Ac., Ph.D., RKC Team Leader

Director / Sifu - Chung-Hua Institute

Chief Instructor - KettlebellsLosAngeles.com

From Toomey, to the doc

My Brother,

Thank you for your kind words. The real thanks belong to the brave men like LCpl Pierce [his son] and Will, both of them are my inspiration to make the second half of my life something I will be proud to have my new family remember me by.
Mark D. Toomey
toomm@att.net

So when you think about what kind of people you may meet when you train with RKC, and who is going to have your safety and success in their hands when you certify, know ye that these are the emn you will be entrusted to.

And to all a good night,
W2

View your event listing here. . .

OUT. Oscar Uniform Tango. As in 'I'm out', 'we out', and 'you out?'
Oscar Uniform Tango, phonetic spellings for the first letter of each word, o-u-t.

I'm about to press out, as I have been keeping a 24kg kettlebell in my room, and it has gathered no moss, shall we say?

So RKC weekends always reenergize the soul, right? Ye who have been, most, yet I would hope all, know the sensations that follow. It may best be described as an afterglow. You roll off that transpo [hotel shuttle, cab, rental car] on T3 [training day three of three] up into the hotel and BANG. It sits in. You just walked into that hotel room an RKC. If you have a roomie and they are full of stoke too, you may just have the makings of a jolly good night in St. Paul. Or Kobenhaven, or San Jose, or LA this summer for the very first time. When you get back to your real life, and that first red light or space out comes and you hearken back to what, like 5 days ago? Just rippin' pumped that you made it through the course, and the team vibe was so high by that last day that you all felt like a straight freight train comin'. I imagine what it had been like had I been more active on the forum before I was cert'd. The first time I had unlimited access to the WWW was in summer 2003, and then only for about 8 months. When I bummed laptop time off of a fellow RKC in 04-05, I was waaay into it. Attended the convention, the one and only convention, in LV that year and then began a nice relationship with this community. If you are reading this and you can't even picture yourself an RKC Instructor Candidate, I urge you to pay close attention to the rivers and tributaries nonetheless. . .

So with that off my nest I will tell you that there is another blog out there congealing in the cyber-ness. You may have sniffed it over on the Food Network. Hard Style has delicacies also, you rascals. . .

Clear a path

Just before the rain today, which only lasted a warm minute anyway, I sneaked in a set of
Get Ups 20kg x 1LR 24kg x 1RL 32kg x 1RL
Swings 20kg x 5/5 24kg x 5/5 32kg x 5/5

It began to spittle so I grabbed a shower and sat down to grind out some work. I have to compose some text to promote the workshop Craig James Sjostrom RKC and I will be conducting at the Sports Mall near Salt lake City Utah. I already peddled to the post office, saw a really fit comrade who works at the same Trader Joe's, and yesterday I hiked 16.6 miles through the canyons in and around Topanga. I could see the sea. I ate a grapefruit atop the ridge and killed some serious chow at an upscale Ralph's grocery on Ventura and Hayvenhurst before I trekked the final 5 miles home.. Avocado and cucumber roll, a big Greek Salad, and two, TWO Starbucks Iced Coffees. venti. With half and half. Caught the midnight showing of Indy and crashed from 0300-1100. No hourly wage today from either profession. Just type pad action, and enjoying this cloudy kinda rainy kinda grey day where the Cure drones from the iPod and the cure for fear is in the 1 pood. Today I have not had any caffeine, and feel that the habit I have made of drinking hot water with lemon can ultimately break me of my Starbucks trips. I am addicted to the trip as well as the product {I should just buy a coffee machine. I get a discount on excellent coffee from the store, and I am loathe to spend nearly 40 a month at Starbucks. . .OK, that's it, I am on it}. . . So with that I bid you good evening as I am into the thinkin' box again. . .


Whiskey Two out

Whey of the yama

Fueling: Reveille 0930
2 cups hot water spiked with 1 fresh squeezed lemon
Joint Mobility, Starbucks Triple Espresso, 16oz ice water
[Session]
1300 post workout
2 scoops Met-rx Vanilla whey
240ml Organic Whole Milk
8 Blackberries
Shake and yum.

At work, 1800 Hours
3 mejool dates
1 date rolled in coconut
Massive bag of baby spinach with 3oz EVOO, 40z Parmesan cheese, garlic powder

It is Midnight and I would love to crash out, but I have to make another deposit. I am feeling a serving of grapes liquidity and a dicing of baby bok choi. . .

When I passed through Philly, people were shocked that I had shed pounds in what seemed like a very short time. Folks from the RKC hadn't seen the hard but squishy placed 285 I toted around just before and after the New year. I put on that weight after getting to 265 lean, successfully, and then shifted my focus to aerobic bullshit like running and LONG bouts of jump rope. I attempted to re-enlist in the USMC on active duty and was stonewalled by regulations regarding tattoos and BMI. When I aborted the attempt, I rested my bones from training for the final month in PA and went ape on 6 packs of Sierra Nevada and Italian Hoagies. EC Where you at? So when I got to CA, I was ready to shed pounds. After my 29th celebration of me exiting my mother, I took it upon myself to no longer voluntarily support the cattle or poultry industries, as a measure of civic responsibility borne from personal desires to be listed hereafter.
To lose a significant enough measure of body weight, including muscle if the case declares, as well as fat, to where my joints are not threatened by the load they support.
To set a goal for myself, and achieve an outcome that grants personal satisfaction as well as contributing energy into something greater than I, and scratching the itch for 'the team atmosphere' I so badly need.
Also, to step from one change to the next and function with the gears motivated by responsibility, and orientated towards my goals. E.g. giving up carbonated beverages, and on to bigger things like the protection of the animals I've lived off of for a time. But in all honesty, I do subscribe to the theory that man sits atop the food chain, and can be omnivorous, I merely do not trust the White Man who sits atop a pile of carcasses beating a war drum and killing with impunity. Soapbox break.

I have to get this weight off so I can live long and not be a busted up 270lb. 38 year old. I, for the longest time, encouraged by the opinions of professionals and friends alike, thought I was a tall, endomorphic guy with mesomorphic tendencies. Meaning I can put on fat and muscle to my frame's desire. Who knows if that triage of body types has merit, but since I have leaned out to below 245 in the last 18 weeks, the argument that I may have grown up, under radically different circumstances, to be a tall skinny guy, stands it's ground.

If my folks hadn't raised us on highly processed EVERYTHING [they knew no better, I harbor no grudge], and my teen years were not spent hoovering sugar and playing music and drawing comic books, I may have been a 200 lb. 6'3. Think about it. All of my dad's brothers are over 6'2, and they all had a Tim Duncan type build. My brother, who is 5 years younger, and weighs 155 lbs at 5'11 [weird] is cut up like Tyler Durden, and sustains his frame with dollar store cola and frozen _________. So if I had ran track, or played lacrosse from my earliest age, not at age 15 to be on a team and make my sweetheart respond, I really no sh*t could have been a tall svelte comrade. Then again, it was my need to physically metamorphizoided that linked me to a USMC recruiter's office at age 18. . .

Down the road I would like to be a leaner cut of myself in nearly every way. If I can hack bad behavior out of my eating mechanisms and my brain housing group, the solitary thing I will allow to expand will be my scope, my vision, my soul. I must be the change I want to see in this world. And we're already facing the same direction. Step it out.