Huge Mistakes I Made Prior to the Year 2014 - Part I

Rather than rolling out a forward-looking, “Goals for 2014” type of post, I decided to go in the opposite direction, and take a look in the rearview mirror.  The carnage I saw, as a result of the past mistakes I had made, was painful to revisit.  Please do not make the same ones, I beg you.

 

1.  An Aversion to Steel.  The No. 1 spot on this list dates back to my swimming career, but it remains the biggest mistake I made as a young athlete.  Strength is the prerequisite to increased power, speed, and endurance, and as Bill Starr would say, a stronger athlete is a better athlete.  Without this vital component in my training regimen, I was unable to compete with the top tier of NCAA athletes in the shorter distances, specifically the 100-yard freestyle and 100-yard backstroke, and my lack of exposure to different movement patterns, specifically squatting and overhead pressing, left me vulnerable to a slew of “overtraining” injuries.  Against the backdrop of my own experiences as well as those of my teammates, I have come to believe that swimmers should perform a healthy dose of squats (back, front, and overhead), and all types of pressing and pulling exercises, assuming there are no limiting preconditions.  In terms of the specific programming, I think “Starting Strength,” would be a good place to start for younger athletes and novices, alike, because Rippetoe emphasizes the development of lower body strength, something almost all swimmers lack.  For the time being, I will not wade out into the quagmire that is the “high bar verse low bar” debate, but I do recommend the former to most athletes simply because of the increased mobility demands.  Regardless of chosen style, increased strength in the squat will invariably help the athlete produce more power off the start and turns, making them dangerous, if not deadly, in the “short course,” 25-yard competition format.  A college teammate of mine was a tremendous squatter, and he was dynamite off the walls.  This was not a coincidence.   

2.  Not Prioritizing Strength in the Offseason.  No. 2 dovetails nicely with the earlier discussion, because it further illustrates how inverted my thinking was “back in the day.”  Rather than focus my offseason (May through August) on gaining strength and improving flexibility, I used that time to build my aerobic base.  While this was certainly not a waste of time, it was not the optimal approach for producing faster times nine or ten months down the road.  If given the chance to do it all over again, I would use the summer months as a time to gain strength, improve general physical preparedness, and perform a maintenance level of aerobic work in the pool.

3.  Failing to Seek Out Expert Advice.  The first two mistakes on this list probably could have been avoided if I had been smart enough to ask the right questions while in high school and college.  Bill Starr – yes, that Bill Starr, the Godfather of 5x5 and the author of Only the Strong Shall Survive – was, for several years, the head strength coach for my university’s varsity athletics teams.  Revisiting his teachings would have been a very worthwhile use of my time, but I was a 20-year-old, know it all so it might not have taken after all.



“The discipline and doing things you don’t enjoy make you a great athlete and give you the ability to stand with the fittest and the strongest.”

-- Bill Starr

4.  Metcon Obsessing.  Like so many others, my first exposure to weightlifting, i.e. the snatch and clean and jerk, came via Crossfit [insert condescending “jump and shrug” or “triple extension” comment].  At that time, however, I was far more concerned with metabolic conditioning than actual strength training, not realizing the latter helps the former far more than the reverse.  In short, I was “WOD Drunk” and most likely metabolically broken.  (If you are unfamiliar with the latter concept, I strongly encourage you to read the following post on, “Confessions of a Crossfit Coach.”).  “AMRAPS” of all kinds – 20-, 30-, and even 40-minute beatdowns were the order of the day, and I was proud of my sweat angels.  The longer, the better.  But here was the rub: my overall fitness was stagnating, though I could run for days without tiring, and my body composition changes had flat-lined.  I really enjoyed reading this post on the Crossfit Amplify page as well as this one over at Greg Everett’s Catalyst Athletics website.

"This is the soup that makes the soldier"

History buffs and my fellow nerds might recognize the title of this post from the French proverb, “C’est la soupe qui fait le soldat."  Attributed to either Napoleon Bonaparte or Frederick the Great, the French aphorism quite literally means “this is the soup that makes the soldier,” though others may know it as “an army marches on its stomach.”  To their credit, Napoleon and Frederick realized that without sufficient food stuffs, a general could keep his army in the field, and Bonaparte, in particular, used unorthodox tactics to group and maneuver his forces while on campaign.  The same can be said for a weightlifter, as he or she must continually fortify their supply line.

 

A weightlifter’s supply line consists of sleep and calories.  While both are vital to facilitating progress in the gym, the former aids recovery in ways the latter cannot, as sleep allows for a resting of the central nervous system and more active secretion of plasma growth hormone (GH).  Such concepts are not revelations.   In fact, in 1968, researches from the Washington University School of Medicine in St. Louis, Missouri measured GH, insulin, cortisol, and glucose levels in eight young adults over a 38-night period.  The results of that study are clear.  “In eight of the nine subjects, [researchers] observed an elevated level of plasma GH during the night.  They speculated that since the longest interval between meals occurred at night, the increase secretion of growth hormone was a response to fasting and the associated need for an accelerated mobilization of free fatty acids.”[1]  A more detailed study was carried out some years later, and those researchers once again observed that plasma GH levels were low during light sleep and depressed for several hours following a meal.  Conversely, peaks in plasma GH were routinely observed during “deep sleep;" hence, the genesis of John Welbourn’s statement, “sleeping 8 hours or more a day makes you bullet proof.”  His full post, “42 Things I learned Leading Up to 2013,” can be found here.  It is an excellent read, and I would strongly recommend it.

In terms of calories, keep it simple – eggs, fish, fowl and straight up animal flesh are all excellent sources of dietary protein, while leafy green vegetables, such kale, collards, spinach, broccoli, etc., and roots and tubers provide wonderful health benefits.  Meat for strength, vegetables for health, as they say.  I’ve been quoted as saying, “You can’t get strong eating f*cking hummus.”  For the root and tuber intake, I stick primary with yams and sweet potatoes, because they are simple to prepare, easy to transport, and cheap to buy.  Carrots are another one of my favorites, though less carbohydrate-dense.  Yukon Gold potatoes taste great, especially when mashed, but they tend to give me mild digestive issues.

Keeping it simple will also help to ease ancillary strains on the supply line, such as travel, work, or other familial obligations.  It is not unusual for me to cook several pounds of food before a trip, then pack it all in plastic bags and transport the reserves via cooler.  Do yourself a favor, and call ahead to the hotel to see if they have a refridgerator in your room.  If I am travelling to my grandparent’s house in Ohio, for example, I ask my grandmother to thaw out 5-10 pounds of ground venison the day before my arrival.  Ground red meat allows for quick and flexible meal preparation.  It sounds strange, but it all works.  Remember, weightlifters must fortify their supply line if they wish to continue progressing in the gym.

---

[1] Y. Takahashi, D. M. Kipnis, and W. H. Daughday, “Growth Hormone Secretion during Sleep,” Washington University School of Medicine, Department of Medicine, Metabolism Division, St. Louis, Missouri, 1968.

My Walden Pond

 

 

"I learned this, at least, by my experiment [at Walden Pond]; that if one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours.  He will put some things behind, will pass an invisible boundary; new, universal, and more liberal laws will begin to establish themselves around and within him; or the old laws be expanded, and interpreted in his favor in a more liberal sense, and he will live with the license of a higher order of beings.  In proportion as he simplifies his life, the laws of the universe will appear less complex, and solitude will not be solitude, nor poverty poverty, nor weakness weakness.  If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost; that is where they should be.  Now put the foundations under them.”  (Walden 323-324)

 

In late March 1845, Henry David Thoreau retreated from “civilized” society to escape to Walden Pond, a sixty-two acre body of water located just a few miles from his parents’ home in Concord, Massachusetts.  Thoreau later wrote, “I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn from what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.”  (Walden, 90).  The beauty of Walden, is that from Thoreau’s simple challenge came forth a tremendously complex reflection, complete with examples ranging from ants to antiquity.  Scholars have said, “Walden stubbornly refused to constrain itself to a single genre, a single argument, even a single meaning per word.”[1]  To me, this sounds an awful like weightlifting, i.e. snatch and clean and jerk, a sport that places a doctrine of rugged individualism over all else.  

 

My own retreats to the weightlifting platform and squat rack serve a similar purpose, for they both cleanse my soul and keep me tethered to what is really important in life – hard work, accountability, humility, and a willingness to embrace difficult challenges.  Coming to understand and appreciate these lessons has not only made me a more accomplished weightlifter, but also a better husband, brother, friend and co-worker.  The best advice I can offer anyone – weightlifter or layman, alike – is do not bask in the glow of yesterday’s results; eliminate the past tense from your vocabulary and focus solely on the present.  Strive to make the next rep better than the last.  Tunnel vision.  Horse blinders.  Whatever analogy works for you.  Keep your mind sharp and your feet fast.

 

Let’s retreat now to our wooden shanties, load up a barbell with a 120 kilos, and pull the hell out of it.  We might make it, we might miss it, but in the end, irrespective of the result, we will have learned something new about ourselves.

---

[1] Henry David Thoreau, Walden and Civil Disobedience, 1.

You Can't Rush the Harvest

Sorry to bust your bubble, but you can't add 40 kilos to your squat overnight.  It takes time and a lot of small incremental gains to reach a twice bodyweight squat.

When training, several people have approached me and asked the same question, "How did you get strong?"  Now, I would argue that I'm not anything special, although I have squatted double bodyweight for multiple sets of five AFTER an hour of snatches and cleans, but this is child's play compared to the numbers of some other big-time weightlifters.  Nonetheless, my response is always the same, "Patience and stubbornness."

If I were to address the biggest problem that I see holding back these people's strength numbers, it would be their unnecessarily complicated "Secret Squirrel Super Hybrid" training program, as John Welbourn calls it.  These programs often fail to produce results, because they are unable to balance training frequency, intensity and volume.  Quite simply, if someone does not have at least a year of consistent training with linear progression, they are leaving a lot of strength on the table, particularly in the squat.  This is a huge no-no for weightlifting, as all the other lifts – the classic lifts as well as their respective power variations – are derived, at least to some degree, from the squat.  For this reason, I call the squat an individual's "denominator strength," and I have never come across anyone who is too strong.

A basic linear progression in the squat would look very similar to Mark Rippetoe's Starting Strength template, i.e. working up to three sets of five across on three non-consecutive days each week, with two kilo adds between training sessions.  If a person is squatting as part of a larger Olympic weightlifting program, the squatting would occur after any prescribed snatch or clean work.  In my opinion, a beginner should snatch, clean and squat every workout, even if the reps are performed with only an empty barbell or pvc pipe.  Consistency is integral for developing fast and efficient pull lines, end of discussion.

Eventually, every individual will need to reduce their inter-workout jumps to only one kilo, but this is not a big deal.  Successfully adding one kilo every workout for a standard six-week training block (18 training sessions total) would still produce an 18-kilo gain, that's roughly 36 pounds for my American powerlifting friends.

Linear progression is not ideal for the snatch and clean and jerk due to the technical components of these particular lifts, but I would still argue that taking it slow is the most efficient way to skin the cat over the long run.  Donny Shankle recommends never repeating a PR in training, but instead always going for one kilo more.  I've adhered to this philosophy for quite some time now, and I think it's excellent advice.  PRs build confidence, and confidence builds PR. thus this approach is a self-fulfilling prophecy. 

Three sets of five across, three days per week, for at least one year, preferably two.  When a person starts missing reps, they should not get frustrated and scrap the program.  Everyone is human, and everyone runs out of recovery capacity at some point.  Glenn Pendlay recommends dropping 7-8 percent, sometimes more, off the heaviest sets, and then working back up towards that previous PR.  Hopefully, in six weeks or so, that individual is challenging his previous best. Just keep rinsing and repeating this process. It isn't terribly interesting. It isn't terribly sexy. But it does make you strong, and that is the goal of many.

Stay patience, stay the course, and fight like a wounded grizzly bear for those one- and two-kilo adds.

Paleo Diet Nitty Gritty Details Revisited

 

Barbell Shrugged is a really cool podcast.  I strongly recommend people check them out.

In my first post on nutrition, Paleo Diet Nitty Gritty Details, I discussed several of the nuances associated with the Paleolithic Diet, including cost concerns and complications brought on by travel obligations.  This piece continues that discussion with an examination of how a Paleo Diet follower can effectively coexist with a non-Paleo spouse, partner, fiance, or boyfriend/girlfriend.  Admittedly, that sentence is ridiculous, but any major life change can cause significant relationship friction.  Moreover, this is a subject with which I have significant experience, having lived with my non-Paleo wife now for over four years.

First and foremost, don't judge your significant other.  I learned this lesson the hard way earlier on, but it nonetheless stands to be repeated.  Most people don't like to be told what they are doing is wrong, and their resentment towards your "judgy judgy" behavior, as my wife calls it, will only torpedo the rest of your argument, regardless of how well it is formulated.

Second, don't try to convert your significant other.  Results always speak louder than words, so focus on the meals you can control, and let any body composition or performance changes speak for themselves.  For most people, breakfast and lunch are solo acts, with some exceptions. Between these two meals, if you consistently consuming a plentiful amount of high-quality protein and fiber-rich fresh veggies, you are off to a great start.

Dining with your significant other, or your kids (sorry, no experience from this angle just yet, folks), can be a bit tricky, but here are a couple of things you can do.  For starters, be the “first actor” when it comes to grocery shopping.  If it's not in the house, it's all the more difficult to eat. Additionally, on the relationship side, my wife always appreciates it when I take on certain household responsibilities that were once "delegated" to women.  I'm not about to walk through that minefield, but guys need to pitch in as participating partners.  Nuff said.

Planning ahead will also serve you well on those nights when things simply aren't going your way, but you still need to fill up before a tough day of squatting and/or conditioning.  Trimmed meat (center cut pork chops, bone-in chicken breasts, steak, etc.) from the butcher will save you time on the preparation side of things, and certain veggies require little to no additional knife work (asparagus and baby carrots immediately come to mind).  I'm also a huge consumer of sweet potatoes so I tend to buy a dozen or so at one time, but the key here is looking for sizes that will easily cook through in the microwave (medium length, medium thickness, no homo).

Another way to ease into Paleo dinners is taking note of what specific meat or veggies your significant other enjoys.  My wife loves seared skirt steak – rare, of course – with broccolini on the side. I'll microwave a sweet potato as an additional side dish, and I'm off to the squat rack tomorrow morning with belly full of beef.

If you aren't buying into the Paleo diet hook, line and sinker (this is something I would actually recommend to most people), you can always make room for compromises at communal meals. Personally, I've been strict Paleo for so long that lots of foods now irritate my digestive track, including milk, which is unfortunate because it's a very easy and powerful tool for getting big and strong (I've experimented with the grass-fed stuff, but it still makes my face and back breakout. No thanks, I'm too old for zits).  But other people might have different results.  If you start experimenting with non-Paleo carb sources, such as white rice or gluten-free rolled oats, etc., I would strongly, strongly recommend trying new foods alongside fiber-rich veggies, as the fiber will blunt an immediate digestive problem. Grilled pork chops, broccoli and homemade mac and cheese make for a great summer meal (my wife's mac is one of the few foods I make an exception for simply because it's so damn good). Nonetheless, I still load up on the broccoli and keep my mac serving more conservative.

The Legs Feed the Wolf

Game Over.

My experience with competitive athletics stems primarily from my ten-plus years as a swimmer, during which time I competed at both the national and NCAA championship level.  This pursuit of ever faster times in the pool invariably shaped my personality, but it also taught me many excellent life lessons, one being the importance of bringing up weak points.

Prior to my arrival on campus, I had enjoyed two consecutive "breakout" seasons as a high school junior and senior, respectively; the first thrust me onto the State level in New Jersey (not a major power like California, Texas, or Ohio, but respectable nonetheless in the upper tier), while the second catapulted me onto high school's national stage.  I ended my senior year with automatic All-American times in both my primary events, the 200- and 500-yard freestyle.  Not wanting to rest on my laurels, I spent the summer after my senior year training with a top notch USA Swimming program.  There, my training volume doubled, almost tripled, from a modest 6,000 yards per workout to upwards of two 10,000 yard workouts each day (in fact, during "Hell Week" we swam at least 20,000 meters per day for ten consecutive days while at altitude in Colorado Springs).  All signs pointed to a third straight breakout season for me as a college freshmen.

Funny thing is, that third breakout season didn't materialize, as I expected.  Aside from a huge improvement in a relatively new event, the 200-yard backstroke, my freshmen year was by all accounts quite pedestrian.  I qualified for the NCAA championship early in the season, but I failed to put it all together when it counted the most.  At the championship meet, I took both of my freestyle events out fast, in keeping with my past racing style, but each time the field passed me midway through the second half.  Swimming as the unofficial "rabbit," I failed to advance out of the preliminary heats.  Not accustomed to laying eggs on the biggest stage, I was befuddled, frustrated and later angry.  At that same championship meet most of my other training partners also performed below expectations, all but one. Jonny, a junior and one of my best friends on the team, swam great, achieving All-American times in all three of his individual events.

In a later conversation with Jonny, I vented my feelings over my sub-par performances.  I'll never forget his response: "Dick, you need to learn how to kick. Your kick sucks."  You gotta respect brutal honesty.  None of my other coaches had described my weakness in such blunt terms.  A few days later, I was ready to leave the pool after another average when Jonny said the words that would change my swimming career at the collegiate level, "Dick, go get a kickboard."

The kickboard looks humble enough, it's a simple foam flotation device that swimmers can use to immobilize their arms while relying solely on their legs for forward propulsion.  Most swimmers hold it with their hands atop the foam, their arms fully extended, and the bottom of the board resting against their chest.  While it may have been a device originally crafted for old ladies, I can assure you that it's a gnarly, yet indispensable, piece of training gear.

"I don't care how slow you go," Jonny said as we began, "but you can't stop kicking for twenty minutes."  True to his words, after a 100 yards or so, I was indeed moving quite slowly.  Meanwhile, Jonny, by far the fastest kicker on our college team, was buzzing back and forth.  In fact, now that I think about it, he may have lapped me twice that first day.  Afterwards, we loosened up with some easy swimming.  We left the pool that day long after our teammates had already departed for the dining hall.

We repeated this mini kicking workout at the end of every other practice, usually three to four times per week, never using more than just the kickboard.  Back and forth, back and forth. Away from the pool, Jonny showed me how to subtly stretch my ankles while sitting in class.  I was very diligent about doing this whenever possible.  Slowly, yet surely, I started to keep it closer with Jonny, and after a few months I was unquestionably faster.  Prior to swimming the 200-yard freestyle in an otherwise meaningless dual meet that fall, Jonny pulled me aside and said, "Dick, swim as easy as you can for the first 100 yards while staying within striking distance of the field, then, at the halfway point, go to your legs."  Respecting his opinion now more than ever, I did exactly that -- swam even with the field for 100 yards, then went to my legs, switching from the distance swimmer’s two-beat kick to the sprinter’s six-beat kick.  After 75 yards, there was significant daylight between myself and the rest of the field.  The rabbit had now become the wolf.

Over the next few months, Jonny and I continued to kick together after practice for longer and longer sessions, sometimes we ended up staying an extra forty minutes (racing the last 25-50 yards, of course).  But I didn't complain, because I was slowly learning how to use my new weapon when racing in practice.  The confidence of knowing that I owned the second half of races was probably an even more powerful psychological weapon for me.  About three weeks before the NCAA championship meet, Jonny took his old ratty kickboard and flung it towards the cabinet where we all stored our training gear.  "No more kicking, Dick, the hay is in the barn."  (Farm kids and their folksy sayings . . . ).  I continued to stick to Jonny like glue for the next three weeks, attempting to absorb everything he said about tapering, warming up, resting, and racing.  Surprise, surprise, a few weeks later at the NCAA championship meet, I swam lifetime bests in all three of my individual events, and earned several All-American honors.

Over that offseason, I continued the kicking regiment Jonny had taught me, pushing myself to hold faster and faster paces.  Even without a terribly high volume of aerobic work, I knew I was getting much, much faster, especially in the sprints.  Why?  Because I was now single-mindedly focused on bringing up my biggest weakness.  Over the next season, I did nothing to change the kicking ritual.  Fast forward to the NCAA championship meet that March, and I swam three more lifetime bests, times that put me on the map at the collegiate level.  People even came to fear me in the back half of races solely because of my closing speed.  It even got to the point where I started to use my kick as a psychological weapon of mass destruction, "Start looking over your shoulders at 75-yard mark," I would joke with our team’s best sprinters, "because if you look for me at the 100-yard mark you might get whiplash." 

The point of this long, drawn-out story is that all athletes must be honest with themselves when assessing their own performances, and they must come to recognize their own weaknesses.  At this point, sufficient time must be dedicated to turning these weaknesses into strengths.  In the world of competitive powerlifting, Louie Simmons of Westside Barbell preaches a similar philosophy: performance assessment – weakness recognition – tailored training programs.  I never could have made the same improvements without Jonny's help, and I always attribute a large degree of my collegiate success to his tutoring.  I tried in vain to pass on these same lessons to my younger teammates, but sadly only one ever listened (for reference, he, too went on to earn multiple NCAA All-American honors).

Be humble enough to admit that you suck at something, then be strong enough to do something about it.  People don’t often like working on their weaknesses, but this must be done in order to continue progressing.

Mountain Climbing

"Mountain Men: The Ghosts of K2"

 

Mountain Climbing

by Vir



The climb begins with a simple, innocent step
Fair weather and ample company make the early days enjoyable
Words "fun" and "participation" float whimsically through the air at base camp
Your pack is light and the pace is brisk in those early days
You feel progressively stronger every time you lift your foot;
 
But in the days to come a few friends will drop off
They have decided mountain climbing is not for them
After all, they see other kids frolicking in the meadow below
They are having more fun
The days are starting to become a bit more boring and monotonous;
 
The remaining climbers reach the next camp barely out of breath
All are having a great time
A few stragglers from earlier expeditions make for a jovial camp
Together you sit around the crackling fire and tell stories until the early hours of tomorrow;
 
Morning breaks and the once light-hearted mood has now been replaced by a harsh reality
Feeling their heavier packs several say, "I'll rest here another day or two . . . but I'll catch up later”
"Okay," you reply back naively, not realizing this is your parting exchange;

The terrain has become more rocky now
And dark clouds loom ominously on the horizon
"Better get out that jacket," you think to yourself, it looks like rain
Not long after that a soft but subtle rain begins falling across your face;
 
You race to set up your tent at the next camp, never realizing more climbers have dropped off
This night will be your toughest yet
Whipping winds and pounding rains punish your Gore-Tex home 
No one ever told you the climb would be this difficult;
 
The sun fails to rise high in the sky the next morning
Only more wind and rain
Several climbers are attempting to wait out the storm inside their tents
Others are already retiring down the mountain
Not you
You shoulder the heavier pack and zip your jacket clear up to your neck;
 

The higher elevation has begun turning rain to snow and the drifts are getting deeper and deeper 

With each step your legs grow more tired
Leaning on your trekking poles is just as much a physiological crutch as it is a physical one
Your arrival at the next camp fails to solicit a boisterous response
The grizzled veterans there share only subtle nods of the head and solemn handshakes
"Welcome, brother" they say;
 
The next morning you rally your strength for an assault on summit camp
A few other climbers agree to make the push with you
But make no mistake, this is an individual journey
You alone will determine the success or failure of this expedition;
 
Battling worsening conditions you continue to put one foot in front of the other
Nonetheless you periodically doubt yourself
Only on the rarest occasions do you exhibit a cat-like quickness 
Nonetheless, these bursts of energy are few and far between
This is a slow slog, nothing more;
 
Just when you think all hope is lost you see the faint outline of a small campsite up ahead
However, there are no fires, food supplies, or posh amenities at this stop
Only a spartan way of life
All that is missing now is the boiled pig's blood;
 

Huddled in a small tent you tell the other climbers that you plan to summit at daybreak

"You're crazy...quit, you've had a great run," they exclaim in unison
But surrender is not an option, not when you know others have conquered the peak
More importantly, this climb has come to define you as person, both mentally and physically
At first light you are already a few steps into your final ascent
You alone are responsible for reaching the summit.

What Are You Training For?

People who see me lifting at the gym or running on the track often ask, "What are you training for?"  Setting aside their poor English for a moment, I usually just shrug my shoulders and casually respond, “nothing special.”  However, this response is not all-in-all accurate.

The simple truth is I train to test my soul, venturing inward to see if I am willing to accept that day’s challenge.  “Can I add one more kilo to this or that particular lift?”  “Can I shave a few tenths of a second off this or that repeat?”  Irrespective of my day-to-day results, this test, this internal challenge, this search for perfection is what keeps me coming back for more.  I must accept and battle that challenge each and every workout.

Now, I realize most people can’t handle this answer, especially at six in the morning, and the unfortunate reality is that we are all living in a society that is growing ever softer by the day, both mentally and physically.  Nonetheless, select communities give me reason to hope, and I am striving to embody the change I want to see in this world, nothing more, nothing less.

The road to improvement is obstructed by the mightiest of gauntlets so keep testing yourself, folks.  Don't get slow.

 



Leave a Rep

Kirk Karwoski is a powerlifting legend whose highlight reel of competition lifts includes squatting 1,000 pounds, yes, you read that correctly, 1,000 pounds, for a double, yes, you read that correctly, too, a double.  What's even more impressive about Karwoski's feat – not that it needed to be any more impressive – is that he walked it out, squatted it to a depth where his hip crease was below his knee, and walked it back in.  No monolift, "at parallel" here folks, just brutal absolute strength.  I mention this accomplishment only to serve as a backdrop for those readers who have never heard of "Captain Kirk."

In keeping with the interviews of other great athletes, Karwoski's discussion below with Mark Rippetoe is filled with little gems, tiny tidbits of advice that can help a lifter at almost any level. One gem, in particular, has stuck with me for the last several weeks: "leave a rep."  Like all good advice, it is simple to say but difficult to practice.  Nonetheless, I have found it an incredibly helpful concept to remember when squatting.  Some days, most often on Mondays and Fridays, I come to the gym fresh off a rest day and ready to eat nails.  Sets of five across in the back squat be damned, it's game time.  Conversely, on Wednesdays, I come to the gym a little tired from Tuesday's double and not looking forward to my three sets of five.

Irrespective of these day-to-day feelings, a linear progression-based program is difficult to execute, primarily because the small adds continually require the athlete to be a little stronger than they were the previous workout.  The compounding interest that simply defeats you.  However, by sticking to the rep scheme and resisting the urge to go for  a final set of six, seven, eight, nine, or even ten reps on the final set of five, you buy yourself some much needed insurance, either for those days when are feeling your best or for those final workouts before the deload.

Squatting and deadlifting are incredibly powerful training tools, but their impact on the central nervous system must be respected. Whether squatting to a daily maximum or pursuing a linear progression scheme, do yourself a favor and leave a rep (or in the former case, routinely stop before the squats start becoming a grind).

 

 

Grab your pencil and notebook, class, school is in session. 

The Five-Rep Max

I wrote this poem on my commute home last night.  Hopefully, it motivates someone out there for PR Friday.

"The Five-Rep Max"

By Vir

You stand before the squat rack as if it were St. Peter, himself

The difference matters not, for a true five-rep max might bring you just as close to death

Buried beneath the squat rack, a noble death indeed

But not today

Today you will bounce out of the hole like Peter Cotton Tail on steroids

Today you will set a new PR

Chalk up your hands and take a deep breath, here we go

Tighten your grip on the bar and watch the chalk fall to the floor like a fresh winter snow

The calm before the storm

Retract your shoulder blades to build the shelf, Atlas would be proud

Elbows down, back tight

Three steps back, always three steps

Drive your knees out and descend to rock bottom, as if there is any other way to truly squat

Is there any other way to truly live?

Reverse direction so fast you wonder if you hit bottom

Forget that you still have four more

Let's go, deep breath, fill the belly

The next rep is smooth, but the third rep is exponentially harder

Come on, keep your head in it, one more!

The fourth rep is slower still but eventually your hips come through

One more. No one cares about your four-rep max

Fill the belly one last time and descend a bit faster, hoping the extra speed will carry you

Just past parallel you meet your nemesis -- the sticking point

Hello, old friend, care to dance?

Drive through that sucker with an unbridled fury, release your air in a primal growl

Most people don't know this side of you, but never feel more alive than you do right now

Sit down and relish the opportunity to write two simple letters in your training log "PR"

Cool down and bask in your fifteen minutes of fame

Turn out the lights

See you again next Friday, five-rep max plus two kilos.

 

Straight salt.

Book Review I: Speed Trap by Charlie Francis

Dismissing Francis' training methodology simply because his athletes used

PEDs would be a mistake.



Book Review I: "Speed Trap" by Charlie Francis

No need to put lipstick on a pig here, Francis' book Speed Trap is exceptional, a "must read" for serious coaches and athletes, alike.  While the use of performance enhancing drugs (PEDs) features prominently throughout the book, Francis leaves no stone unturned when it comes to explaining the evolution of his coaching philosophy.  The following topics are covered in great detail: the respective differences between muscular fatigue and central nervous system fatigue, periodization, speed development, and taper schedules.  Many of Francis' ideas dovetail my own, specifically his rationale for limiting a sprinter's "traditional" endurance work.

Aside from the more technical points laid later in this blog post, a few subtleties within Francis' coaching philosophy jumped out at me:

(1) He would do anything if he thought it would allow his athletes to perform better -- and I don't mean simply providing them with PEDs.  He listened to their personal problems, bought them groceries, gave them money to pay rent or travel expenses, and he learned how to expertly massage his own athletes. This last skill was of particular importance, because it allowed Francis to learn how his athletes were responding to training, most importantly the high-intensity speed work.

(2) He never closed the door to any athlete who was willing to put in the work.  Ben Johnson wasn't the most talented teenager on his team, but Francis stuck with him and Johnson ultimately went on to set multiple world records.

(3) He brought on the best assistants, and he did not micro-manage them.  In doing so, he showed them a level of trust not commonly seen amongst coaches at the highest level, and he was subsequently rewarded with their loyalty and best efforts.

(4) He sought advice from the best in his business.  At one point, a conversation with the East German track coach led Francis to abandon his five-day taper schedule and instead adopt his peer's ten-day variation.  This is but one example of how Francis incorporated newer ideas into his training program. Others can be found in all segments of the book.

Now for the more technical discussion:

(1) Differentiating between muscular fatigue and central nervous system fatigue:

"In [the view of Gerard Mach], the muscles were affected by both high- and low-intensity training, but they also bounced back quickly, within 24 hours. The central nervous system, by contrast, was affected primarily by high-intensity work (maximum or near-maximum-speed sprinting or heavy weightlifting), but it also required more time to recover, a full 48 hours." (Pg. 49).

(2) Programming a "double periodization," meaning two different segments of competition: a winter indoor season and a summer outdoor season:

"Within each segment there were three phases: a preparatory phase, a main work phase, and a competition phase, each of which emphasized different training components and varied the proportion of work to rest. Without periodization, an athlete works at the same level year-round and inevitably grows stale, since he will stop improving after six to eight weeks at a given task." (Pg. 51). 

(3) Balancing speed work with volume:

"When I realized my runners were fatigued by our volume of speed work, I cut back from the year before -- from three times to twice a week, with a weekly total of 1,500 meters, a little less than a mile." (Pg. 61).

(4) Implementing weekly "special endurance" runs:

"To further reduce the stress on my sprinters' central nervous systems, I shifted some of their speed volume from short sprints to weekly 'special endurance' runs, from 150 to 300 meters. I conducted all speed work at 100 percent of my runners' capacity -- and since my runners always had adequate recovery periods between workouts [Francis prescribed speed work only every other workout], their capacity was consistently high. My theory was simple: Sprinters needed to train at race pace, both to imprint the higher speeds on their muscle memory and to acclimatize their muscles and tendons to the demand of racing. My athletes would run only two special endurance segments once a week and would rest up to a half-hour between the two, but I asked them to go absolutely all out every step of the way . . . I cared only about the quality of the runs. The quantity was almost irrelevant." (Pg. 62).

 (5) Adopting the East German 10-day Taper:

" . . . sprinters ran their last full-speed workout-outs 10 days before their meets -- an unheard-of gap in the West. There were more surprises. During the last maximum work-out, Hille's women sprinters performed about as much speed work as mine did, but at an even higher intensity -- in some cases at world-record paces. Hille's athletes would run four 30-metre starts, with seven-minute rests between them. They then took a 15-minute break, followed by an 80-metre sprint; then a 20-minute break and a 100-metre sprint; then a 25-minute break and a 120-metre sprint; finally, a 35-minute breaK and a 150-metre sprint. These were extraordinary rest periods -- my own sprinters had never paused longer than 15 minutes between speed runs at those distances, and most coaches allowed for rests of five minutes or less." (Pg. 107).

Bang. Bang.

PEDs or not, Linford Christie, the 100m Olympic champion from the '92 Barcelona Games, was straight yoked.  I mean . . . seriously?

 

I can still vividly remember my first year-round swim coach telling me at age ten "there is no substitute for yardage."  Gary was a great coach, as evidenced by his Crimson Aquatic Club produced several New Jersey state champions in the mid-90s, and he understood that while smart programming is important, athletes ultimately need to perform a certain amount of work to drive adaptation and reinforce proper technique.

Many weightlifters and their coaches also place a high emphasis on volume, especially for beginners – Nick  Horton, Glenn Pendlay, Caleb Ward, Jon North and Donny Shankle, just to name a few.  In the June 24, 2012 edition of "Weightlifting Talk," Shankle, North and Pendlay discuss this very concept in some detail.  Similarly, great powerlifters like Mark Bell, Brandon Lilly and Dave Tate often speak of "time under the bar" as a simple way of stressing the importance of volume.

 

As far as incorporating these ideas into my own programming, I have been performing a higher volume of snatches of late, with a lesser focus on cleans, jerks, and squats (that being said, I still perform these other three movements daily).  Most of this work has been done on relatively short rest intervals, anywhere from thirty to sixty seconds; rest intervals for clean and jerks are between seventy and ninety seconds.  Surprisingly enough, I have been consistently hitting lifts upwards of 90 percent, I have even made a few personal records following this approach.  The small 3- or 5-kilo jumps in snatches and cleans, respectively, have also helped me find a rhythm to these lifts.  Bang, bang – bar connects with my hips, feet slide out to the receiving position.  Bang, Bang.  Each lift the same, regardless of weight on the bar.  Bang, bang.  Don’t a wimp, perform a sufficient amount of volume.

 

Conversely, the problem I see most often with other lifters, especially those individuals coming from a Crossfit background, is that they take an attempt, make it/miss it, rest three minutes, take a ridiculous jump, miss it, rest three minutes, take another attempt, miss it, get upset . . . you get the point.  There is no rhythm to their lifts, and they’re simply chasing PRs, as opposed to developing consistency with a relatively high, i.e. 80-90, percent of their max. 

 

I’m still trying to figure out how, if at all, these same lessons might be applied to squats . . . stay tuned.

Don't Fall Into "The Power Trap"

It's old.  It's rusty.  It's no dice.

One of the mistakes I made recently in my own programming was incorporating the power variations, i.e. the power snatch and power clean (collectively referred to herein as "powers"), too frequently.  While powers do offer some advantages over the full lifts, a longer pull and easier recovery, they also have the potential to introduce bad habits into the full lifts, namely rolling onto the forefoot too early.  Powers mask this mistake by allowing the lifter to jump forward slightly with sub-maximal loads; however, the full lifts are far less forgiving and maximal loads require a greater degree of technical proficiency.   As I can attest, correcting these bad habits and regaining confidence in the bottom position, especially in the snatch, is frustrating.  Do not make this same mistake, I beg you.

In order to expedite these corrections, I am ditching the fancy programming concepts.  Snatch.  Clean and jerk.  Squats.  Pulls.  The meat and potatoes of weightlifting.   Percentages, you ask.  Ain't got time for percentages, baby.  Attitude Nation, Jon North, salute.

Train Like a Savage

I came across the following video from Mark Bell a few days ago, and it really struck a chord with me:

Run hills every morning that make others vomit? Catch bricks instead of game balls?

Only if you want to be the next Jerry Rice....

Mark is absolutely correct.  One day we will all need canes and walkers and wheelchairs.  One day we will all need assistance.  One day we will all be old.  But that doesn't mean we need to accept that reality today.  Today we can work hard.  Today we can challenge ourselves.  Today we can, as Mark so eloquently said, "train like a savage."

People are constantly telling me what will or will not in my own training.  They claim squatting heavy every workout isn’t possible.  They argue the body will break down under that type of workload.  And my all-time favorite, they point to “scientific research” that “concludes” your central nervous system cannot recover from heavy, daily squatting.  Well, folks, I'm still standing here, and I am stronger than ever.  Have I suffered my fair share of "bad days?"  Hell yes, but I'm not about to surrender to old age just yet.  This body is capable of much more, and I intend to prove it.

You doubt me, go ahead.  I've always relished the opportunity to serve others a hot plate of crow.  You say my approach to training isn't sustainable, and you might be right, but I'd rather be as a has-been, than a never was, you coward.  I don't fear hard work, pain, or fatigue, the only thing I fear is time, because, in the end, time catches up with us all.  However, until that day, why don't we continue to train like savages, and fight to add those little .5-kilogram weight plates to our bar?

That Inch

That little white .5-kilogram weight plate there on the end . . . yeah, the one you almost missed . . . it holds the meaning of life.  You just need to be strong enough to accept that reality.  

Only fractions of a percentage point separate the very good from the great and the truly great from the legendary in the world of competitive athletics.  To quote Al Pacino's epic pregame speech from the movie Any Given Sunday:

“You know when you get old in life things get taken from you . . . But, you only learn that when you start losing stuff.  You find out that is just a game of inches . . . Because in either life or football the margin for error is so small . . . the inches we need are everywhere around us.  They are in every break of the game, every minute, every second.  On this team, we fight for that inch.  On this team, we tear ourselves, and everyone around us to pieces for that inch.  We CLAW with our finger nails for that inch.  Cause we know [that] when you add up all those inches, that’s going to make the fucking difference between WINNING and LOSING, between LIVING and DYING . . . And I know that if I am going to have any life anymore it is because, I am still willing to fight, and die, for that inch, because that is what LIVING is.  The six inches in front of your face.”

Fighting for that inch.  That's the name of the game, folks, just ask Michael Phelps, Jason Lezak, or any other great racer.  But it is not enough to fight for that inch only in competition.  The best racers I knew competed ALL THE TIME.  5 a.m. on Monday morning or 9 a.m. on News Year Day, it didn't matter.  Any final repeat "for time" was their time.  They owned it, and they made sure everyone else knew it, too.

People often talk about "the will to win," but anyone can want to win when the lights come on and everyone is watching.  The real racers, however, want to win on those cold rainy mornings in June when everyone else is still tucked away in their warm beds, the spring championship meets just a distance thought.  So my message is simple – race to win every day.  That's how you come to own that inch.  That's how you continue to improve. And that is something I didn't learn until after I was finished swimming.

A few years older and only slightly wiser, I now compete every day for one extra kilo. Good days, bad days, it doesn't matter – try to add just one more kilo to what you think is possible for that day.  Here’s the harsh reality – those little white .5-kilogram plates hold the meaning of life. To paraphrase Al Pacino, "clawing for that inch... because that's what living is." And I'll tell you something else, I have never felt more alive than I do today.

Strong men, one and all.

Yesterday was Yesterday and Today is Today

"I was never talented and nobody will call me talented, I am just a workaholic." 

Dmitry Klokov, 2005 World Champion, 2008 Olympic silver medalist in the 105 kg weight class.

One quickly learns when squatting to a daily maximum that yesterday's results do not necessarily guarantee greater, or even equal, success today.  Now, that's not to say past work isn't valuable, it is certainly, but progress will not be linear under this type of training program.. Moreover, you will inevitably experience what some people call "the dark times."  Grappling with these physical and psychological strains is normal.  Push on and accept each workout's results for what they are – just another day.  To quote Rocky Balboa, "that's how winning is done!"

With respect to my own training, a few changes have produced positive results (to date):

First and foremost, I quit squatting to an absolute max every workout, i.e. up a miss, especially in the back squat.  I made this change simply because I don't think "absolute" maxing is sustainable, healthy or terribly productive over the long-run.  I also found that repeated misses in the back squat left me drained for at least twenty-four hours (central nervous system recovery may be a factor here).

Second, I reduced both the volume and the intensity of my back-off sets.  Three to four sets, with 5 percent jumps, is usually the order of business, and the final triple is often between 84-87 percent.  Thusly, most days the work falls between 70 and 85 percent (as a reminder, percentages are based off that day's best single).

Third, I started front squatting at the beginning of every workout, usually up to a heavy single – this is not a one-rep max.  This progression usually takes 11-12 total reps and all of 15 minutes.  In the beginning rest periods are sixty seconds or less, while the final 2-3 intervals are several minutes.  A more robust squat workout comes after the classic lifts or powers.

And finally, I started voodoo flossing my knees before every workout (see example video below).  There is some variation day-to-day in the wrapping technique, but often I cover the entire joint, then proceed to do 10-12 squats with just my bodyweight.  I now consider this squat progression just another part of my warm-up, and it really helps open my hips up for snatches or cleans.  My one-rep max front squat has also gone up 20 pounds over the last three weeks.  I’ll take those gains any day of the week.

I'm experiencing some serious quad envy, broseph.