Maynard Ferguson

"Guess my feet know where they want me to go,
walking on a country road."
Country Road, James Taylor
Taking marsh walks on the weekends with Cinco.  We have only been friends since 1968 and so are apt to listen the same shit we listened to in middle school.  Since Wolfgang's Vault we can stream stuff like James Taylor live from the Fillmore East in 1971 and Country Road is a sweet little tune from that era.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NYxWXPKU7jY

Then Maynard got a hold of it and just fucking owned it.  His version is dated, all electric piano and brass choral arrangements, and you can almost see the bad hair, but the guy smokes.  Loud, bombastic, generous and brilliant, had not thought about him in a long time.  In the school jazz bands we revered him and listening to this on BART heading into Oakland makes me grin manically and I really don't care who sees it or how nervous they get.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ktEiZ9AlDRY
Three mile marsh walk Sunday, four miles on elliptical Monday, fully intended to have an extended blow out Monday night and pick Ian up in the Western Addition at eight, but he calls at four, his buddies had to cut practice short and I have to go collect him and happy to do so, strolling Market St. feeding him and chatting, priceless.
But ready Tuesday to hit it hard and that went like this:
Four miles elliptical in AM
PM,
pushups to renegade rows, 24kg, 5+5+5+5
10 24kg Goblet squats
10 clean to five press 24kg, each side, left going really well :)
30 body weight walking lunges
3x

50 snatches, 16kg
5+5 windmills, oly bar
2+2x2 24kg TGUs
50 swings, 24 kg
3x
Then another 50 swings and 50 snatches, just to get to 200 of each.
Gassed, just buzzing on the ferry ride home.  Oh yeah, go Maynard.

Holidaze

"The time is right to mix sentences
with dirt and the sun
with punctuation and the rain with
verbs, and for worms to pass
through question marks, and the
stars to shine down on budding
nouns, and the dew to form on
paragraphs."
Richard Brautigan, Squash

Butternut squash is wonderful.  Not as wonderful as the japanese squash they serve at Kabuto; perfectly cooked and snappy with just the right amount of bitter from the skin.  But roasted butternut with salt pepper, oregano, nutmeg, a touch of cinnamon is pretty wonderful even if you roast it into mash 'cause you were doing swings when the timer went off.  Fuck it, just add more butter.
Rolling out of Vintage Oaks (you know, in honor of all the trees they took down for the parking lot) on Wednesday morning, sneaking out the back after braving Costco, quick longing glance to the right at the marsh, four otters rocketing out of the water and a mature redtail on a low sign six feet off the road.  No camera to record the gift.  Oh well, dogs in the driving rain this afternoon.  Three men, three dogs, one umbrella.  Brrr.
Wednesday, scramble day, afternoon with Susan S., plying me with illicit baked goods, to ct session.  Good swing and press work and good cues for snatches.  Getting comfortable working with ct, smart, patient, and does not talk too much and is a hoot and can help to help myself get better.
Thursday, nothing, save four hours running around Fourth street in San Rafael trying to pull Christmas together.
Friday, presents for the jackals and roasting prime rib for nine.  Fit in quick work in a short window:
200 22kg swings
100 16kg snatches
100 16kg swings, hard and fast
Saturday, thick and sluggish from too much beef and red wine.  Blast from slumber, into sf for:
90 minute flow class
2 miles on elliptical,
One circuit training session
Assisted pull ups, 34 lbs help, five wide grip, three narrow, three neutral, 6 lat flares
2+2x2 24kg TGUs
10+10 woodchoppers, six plate
20 figure 8 to hold, 16kg
3x
Two mile marsh walk, pouring rain, dogs joyful.

Resolutions

"With my freeze-ray I can stop, the world."
Joss Whedon, Dr. Horrible's Sing A-Long Blog

I have spent a considerable amount of my non-working time in the last 18.5 years looking through a camera lens.  I like it.  I have heard and considered those who say that the mechanical body insulates one from the actual experience, that the act of recordation necessarily distances one from event in real time.  They have a point.  But that distance, and it does exist, has allowed me to record, in considerable, if not obsessive, detail a large amount of personal history which, contrary to what Casteneda may have written, in my middle aged years I consider a good thing.
So when reflecting on what one may resolve to improve upon in the year to come, there is an ample record from which to measure progress.
Ok, so sap that I am, one area that screams for improvement is that I want my dog to be healthier.  The above was taken 3.5 years ago; pre medial patellar luxation surgery.  To the untrained eye, she appears much the same today.  But she has lost muscle mass; a fair amount, and since she was the catalyst for me regaining and building mine I owe it to her not to let the arc of my improving strength be paralleled by her deterioration.
So I resolve to do better by the dog, an insipidly modest goal:
Friday, four mile marsh walk;
Saturday, Brigid's B-day, low on time if not heart,
three mile marsh walk, then Brett Jones' 10-1 GS ladder, 20 swings with 20kg, per rung; on to thirty minutes of long boarding in the Berkeley flats pre duck a la orange, with Rose, incredulous but joyful.
Sunday, good three mile marsh walk, with Cinco, Ian, Bella, Rose and Petey, a crippled yet alpha terrier mix.
Monday, six miles in the am, return for pm circuits which went like this:

8+8 elevated pushups, opposite foot up
15+15 body weight bulgarian split squats
10 squat to press, 80 lb. barbell
15 medicine ball jumping jacks, 12 lb.
3x
10+10 16kg windmills
24, 32, 16, 32, 24, 16 kg hill circuit, 10 swings per, 60 per set
16kg overhead sit ups, 15
4x
Today, six miles in the am; pm sixty minutes stiff guy yoga class, hamstrings for 60 minutes.  Gonna feel it tomorrow.  Resolve to do better by everyone, canine or no.

The Fitness Industry is Annoying

"We all are learning, modifying, or destroying ideas all the time. Rapid destruction of your ideas when the time is right is one of the most valuable qualities you can acquire. You must force yourself to consider arguments on the other side."
Charlie Munger
There was a bit of a dust-up on the DD boards earlier this week when PW, MD, who runs a private coaching shop SS wrote an article for the Peninsula Daily News trashing kettlebell training.  It was a stupid fluff piece and no doubt W had a friend at the rag who got it published.  Girya has been running HKC cert programs of late and W is clearly worried. MR took the time to respond in detail, though I don't think he needed to bite.  W comes off as an elitist prick, and his shop claims to be an incubator of professional and elite college athletes, not really the space Girya or DD seem to be aimed at.  Although given W's reaction, perhaps Sparta Science is not really the elite training shop it purports to be.
The whole thing pissed me off because it is yet another example of the gutter sniping that goes on in the industry.  The my fluff is better than your fluff crap that gets dished out in search of the clients' training dollars.
As Mark did point out, albeit far more charitably, 99 percent of us poor middle aged shlubs were never athletes at an elite level and age has not improved our chances.  We train to feel better, to try to age gracefully, to live healthy productive lives notwithstanding all the shit in our water food and air and in spite of the hundreds of millions of dollars spent trying to sell us the next greatest thing that will increase our fitness in health, without all that gosh darn work.
Anyone who has trained and improved knows that there is only one way to get results.    Hard, consistent, work.  The good news is that if you do work, whether with body weight exercises, traditional weights, or even machines, you will improve your health, you will.
So the next pitch is, ok, since you don't mind hard work, or perhaps even enjoy being a busy beaver, be busy with us.  We are more efficient, provide greater results in a shorter period of time, and if you just buy our shit, the fountain of youth will be yours.
Now I am happy to spend money and time on kettlebell training.  It works.  Yeah maybe if I'd given the tens of thousands I have spent in the last five years to W, I could squat with heavy load and deadlift 450.  I doubt it, but maybe.  But am I likely to take an oly bar and a set of plates in my mini-van so I can set up in the park during my daughter's basketball practice ?  Would I be able to stare into an inky black sky on a deserted playground with steam coming off of my entire being with a 44 pound weight overhead,  lats engaged, obliques ready to fire, lower back down, bell in hand, wrist straight, shoulder sucked into the socket, chest ready to lead, up to elbow, mobility, then hand, mobility, eyes forward then lunge to stand and lock out and reverse while listening to the 49ers kick the shit out of the Cardinals ?  No.  Do I do that with kettlebells, you bet your ass.  Do I feel good, hell yes.   Do I need to be told that my perceived middle aged strength is an illusion and if I had just been smart enough to go elsewhere I could feel even better and be truly strong ?  No, and fuck you W.
But even the kettlebell community eats their own.  I like Diluglio.  I like his old videos, with his New England accent, knit cap and bulldog wandering around his funky gym.  But I hate what his site has become.  I  hate the sizzle and the constant sales pitch.  The criticism of the high hip bridge.  The knock on DD whenever he gets a chance.  Look, you did not make this shit up, promotion does not make you the best, and stop sending me two or three emails a day offering me confusing discounts on second tier products.  The Art of Strength has crept toward the Art of Sales.  Unsubscribe, yes I did.
DD is better, but has its faults.  I am wary of lite anything, and that is what HKC looks like to me.  It looks like a way to get folks to dip their toe in the pool and then rush to the deep end within twelve months so you can  apply the cost to the RKC cert fee.  And that is ok, except I doubt the public knows the difference between RKC and HKC and if I had bought the cadillac and were suddenly facing competition from a bunch of folks who had not, I would not be happy.  I bet there is a lot more money in training the trainers, than training the poor shlubs like me and it seems unfair that the organization that promised to support you is now training folks who could undercut you.
And the cert does not mean that much anyway and don't try to tell me that it does.  Best trainer I have ever worked with is a kid with a fine arts degree who blew out his knee in high school and became a gym rat.  He is good because he is smart and creative.  I am sure there are a lot of great RKC's out there, I have met and worked with a few of  them.  I am equally certain that there are many who are not.  Creativity has never counted enough in the fitness industry.  I have never seen the word creativity on any board, but from the middle aged client's perspective it is critical.  Can you quickly adapt to help me work around my pain or immobility ?  Can you do it in a nonjudgmental, empowering manner ?  Can you do it without tripping over your tongue, or letting me know you are improvising ?  Can you do it without channeling your younger, fitter self, which no matter how hard I work, I will never emulate ?  Are you smart (or experienced) enough to work on multiple levels ?
Don't give me sizzle; give me substance.  Understand that at the end of the day, I don't give a shit about PR's; I want to keep feeling better.  I want to bounce on the beach with my kid, like Brigid up there and, if not get hurt, at least not be rendered immobile.  I want to exude physicality; to walk into a room and control it with my posture and breath.  I want a glossy coat and a hard body.  I want to feel good until the day I die and rot which is now approaching far faster than I would like.  I want brains, reflection, challenge and comprehension, if not understanding; not brawn I can never hope to achieve.
Enough.
Monday, went like this
15 hindu pushups
10 goblet squats, 24 kg
10 clean to five press, 24kg, 5+5, yes 5+5 thanks to Pavel's breath seminar on sat.  When I hit it right left just rocketed up.
8+8 single leg deads, 16kg
3x
eight hours later, in the dark, on the playground
10+10 24 kg windmills
20, 28, 16,28, 20, 16kg swing ladder, 10 per.
3,2,1 TGU ladder l+r, 20 kg
4x
Tuesday, six miles
Wednesday am
10 pushups, deep and slow alternating to side plank, watch the free hand up and down
30 body weight box squats
10+10 rows, body as bench, 60lb dumbell.
15 walking tactical lunges, 16kg, alternating
3x
10+10 16kg windmills
20 16kg spike swings, to 20 24kg swings
2+2x2 24 kg TGUS
1 minute plank, lock down everything, lats, glutes, obliques, hard and flat.
3x
Killer 60 min flow class in pm.
Thursday, write 30 holiday greeting cards.

Ready For the Sofa

    

"The dog is a gentleman; I hope to go to his heaven, not man's."

Mark Twain

Marsh is Rose's heaven as one can  see above,  and I appreciate the time we get to spend there.
Which on Wednesday was a good ninety minute walk in the bone chilling cold.
Thursday 360 miles driving to Soledad and back meet with Donald and settle his case.  Long day but would not let myself skip so it went like this:
Pushups to renegade rows with 35lb dumbell 5+5+5+5
Single leg squat, down to bench and back 10+10
Squat to over head press, 80lb barbell 10
single leg deads, 30lb barbell, 8+8
3x
10+10x2 16kg snatches
8+8 24kg windmills
Swings, 20 32kg, 20 second rest, 20 24kg
2+2x2 24kg tgus
3x

Friday six miles on idiot elliptical and then some headstands.
Saturday.
Stretching and ab seminars in Sacto with Pavel, and others.  Great day, ab seminar was eye-opener since it was more about breathing and creating focused strength then "ab work."  Lot of RKC types and got pitched quite a bit, take ct's odd negative sell any day of the week.  I do think by employing the breathing techniques taught I am close to pressing the 32.  But I have never cared about PR's, or reaching some insane swing numbers.  I just really want to keep feeling good.  Yes, keep telling yourself that.
Today, back to the marsh for a long walk with Cinco, Bella and Rose.  Spitting light rain, just beautiful.  Thought about kbell session but blocked dishwasher drain needed attention and entire midsection pleasantly sore anyway.  On my knees, half way in the dishwasher, undoing bolts at odd angles.  Functional fitness at work and it was all just fine.  Though ready for the sofa, never quite got there.  Next weekend, though I doubt it.

Dog Days

"You're breaking my heart, you're tearing it apart, so fuck you"
Harry Nilsson
It is the raw deal Rosie time of year.  Leave when its dark, return when its dark, dog gets no play.  Week ago Sunday in the marsh she got some bad water and was on cottage cheese and rice curled on sofa all week but better now.  Totally hurt (but still loyal to the point of stupidity).  Still getting my play.

Sunday, three mile marsh walk with Cinco, Bella and Rose; man talk with dogs.  Saw four otters close, but left the camera at home.  Then breakfast and football in a bar.  Twenty five years ago would have added bloody mary's but he has been sober for ten years and I have not had drink before 6:00 in a very long time.  We need to go in the afternoon and smoke some of Susan's finest; old men with bad backs self-medicating.
Monday, five miles on the elliptical in the am, return in the pm for:
 15 pushups, one foot up, feet elevated on bosu or box
10 goblet squats, 24kg.
10+10, 10 clean to five press, 24kg, left getting better 3, 4, 3, fill in with a bunch of 16's which are nothing and it feels like why bother.
8 + 8 single leg deads, 16kg, keep elevated leg straight and hard, reach for the wall, think Sara Cheatam form.
3x

10+10, 8+8 windmills, 16kg 1, 24kg 2-3
Swing ladder gut buster, ten per rung, 1+2+3+3+2+1, 24kg, 32kg, 16kg.  Ouch.  Young gal next to me doing some sweet (if light) swings and plyo work, serious hammies and glutes; never see that at E, good for her, told her so, she grinned, you too.
16 kg russian twists, 10.
Dolphin to plank, 10.
3x
Today, four miles in am, hour long stiff guy class in early pm, hips.  Glad it was not hammies after Tuesday's swing ladder.
Client dinner, home by 8:30, sorry dog star.

Kicking At Darkness

"I had another dream about lions at the door
they weren't half as frightening as they were before
but i'm thinking about eternity
some kind of ecstasy got a hold on me."
Bruce Cockburn, Wondering Where the Lions Are
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZL4CdHd9ma4

Some songs immediately take you to the place you heard them, which for Bruce's only close to commercial hit is a kitchen in Arcata in 1979 at a potluck at the home of three lovely coeds, and later in the mid 1990's the kids' bedroom on 43rd Ave, doing the nightly reading/songfest.
Bruce goes to the gym, keeps very much to himself, doubt anyone knows who he is or his remarkable career.  Walking out Friday, told him about 43rd Avenue, he beamed broadly and thanked me for speaking up and said he was glad I used it and seemed genuinely pleased.

Nothing Thursday, shadow day at MSA for Brigid, working from various parking lots in Novato, thanks to AT&T suckness.
Friday, four miles in am, back at three for:
15 deep slow pushups, one foot up, switch at 7
30 walking lunges
10+10 bent over rows, body as bench, 60lb dumbell
20 tactical lunges, 16kg
3x
10+10x2 16kg snatches
20 32kg swings
2+2x2 24kg TGU
10 reverse pull ups off of smith machine, feet on box, stay hard
3x
Yoga this am.  Four trainers in the room and MH pushed it very hard.

Home, moving the woodpile around.  Doorbell rings, Cop.  "Brigid Tillotson's dad ?"  Yes.  "Have you heard from her ?"  Instant fear, No.  "She was in Target with her friend and friend's mom, and they turned around and she was gone."  Brigid would not have left without telling someone, I tell the cop.  "Come with me."  I am running through Target, we are in the security room looking at video tape.  I am trying not to lose it, no one has seen her for over an hour.  Her cell phone is dead.  Her friend comes in, a kid I do not know and I don't like the look of the mom.  Cop says to the friend, tell me exactly what happened last time you saw her.  "We were looking at clothes and I turned around and she was gone."  They try to establish a chronology, the small room is getting smaller, I am trying to find her mother, this sounds completely fucked up, my daughter does not just disappear.  I can hear mall security combing a twenty acre shopping center.  All I can think about is amber alerts and bad endings.
Twenty minutes later there is a radio call, cops back at home report she showed up, she is at home.  I look at the floor, so they don't see me crying.  Cop:  "Just give me your license, you don't need to talk."
I get home, Brigid says her friend was ragging on her to get her ears pierced and try on make-up, friend told her I don't like you , you are such a tomboy.  Brigid says she told her friend she was leaving, and going home, and her friend was supposed to tell the mom, Brigid had walked home.  She was incredulous that her friend had lied about what had happened.
I make her favorite dinner and don't let her more than five feet away.  We will soon be eating cherry pie.

Smart People Talking

"It is impossible to talk or to write without apparently throwing oneself helplessly open."
Herman Melville

Which is why some much prefer to listen or read.
Taking a late boat on Tuesday nights is always a pleasure 'cause can pick up City Arts & Lectures on the way up.  Last night was author Amitav Ghosh, who I have not read but need to.  He was asked a question by a Cal Professor (who delivered a short lecture before she got around to her question >:[) about his characters and post modern influences in Sea of Poppies.  His response was joyous, flitting from chapter forty of Moby Dick, to learning to sail, to falling in love with his characters.  His enthusiasm for his craft and the world was a 15 minute balm that soothed nine hours (seven billable) of grinding on distressed real estate, unpaid and sleazy contractors, ongoing partnership disputes:  talking and writing all day but limiting exposure; all advice qualified, written demands appropriately couched.

Awful night Monday, awake from 3:30 on with Brigid sleepwalking around, and the dog restless; out of Advil PM and back complaining.  Walked into the gym at 7:45, no sleep.  Fuck cardio and went into the yoga room, legs up against the wall and slept for an hour.  No time for any meaningful lunch, final 90 minute conference call starting at 4:30, wrung out, went back to pick up the bag at 6:25, with no intention of working out and fully intending to call it a down day.  But not crowded.  Slammed two bananas, let's give it a go, and after first circuit knew it was the right thing to do:

15 deep slow push-ups, stay really tight and flat
20 box squats, clean 2 16kg, 10 squat to press
20 renegade rows, 24kg
10+10 single leg squats to mid-size box. focus on slow and light touch down rather than depth
3x

10+10x2 16kg snatches, spike hard
6+6 windmills, 24kg
20 spike swings, 16kg, 20 sec rest, 20 24kg swings
10 dolphin to plank, again hard and low.
3x

That kicked my ass, but SO glad to do it.
No raw fish on the way to 8:10 boat, wtf is wrong with downtown.  Home to sink full of dirty dishes, dishwasher full of clean ones.  Sigh.  Snark Snark.  Great workout and good drive.  Residual thickness from T-day gone.

Today
Meetings in the City from 11:30 on, hit gym at 3:45 and spend an hour on elliptical sending sniper emails.  Fell asleep during 15 minute meditation, hour long MH class.  Bliss.  Home to a sink full of dirty dishes, dishwasher full of clean ones.  Sigh, small price for an hour of deep breathing.

Some Other Kind of Nut

"I used to be able to name every kind of nut, would drive my mother crazy . . ."
Harlan Pepper (aka Christopher Guest), Best in Show


Sunday, four mile marsh walk in the morning with Cinco, Ian, Brigid and the dogs, listening to The Staple Singers from the Fillmore in 1967 beat any homily I ever heard.
49ers don't always suck.
CT class:  spike swings are a blast; hardstyle rocks.
Awesome.
This morning, three hard fast miles and some core work, same this evening.
Two year old on the 6:20 boat singing Puff the Magic Dragon, such a sap.

Five More Breaths

"When I was very young and the urge to be someplace else was on me, I was assured by mature people that maturity would cure this itch.  When years described me as mature , the remedy prescribed was middle age.  In middle age I was assured that greater age would calm my fever and now that I am fifty-eight perhaps senility will do the job."
John Steinbeck, Travels with Charley.

My AARP card came in the mail today.  I was going to chuck it but the list of offered discounts and benefits caught my eye and for this reason alone membership merits some thought.  But for my friend at L4/L5 physically I feel no different than I did in my early thirties, and much better than my late thirties, or mid forties.  In all other respects I'll take fifty any day, although, as evidenced by the post below, I am not sure I have actually matured much beyond thirteen.


Wednesday, three mile marsh walk with Brigid and Rose.  I had mentally checked out but the phone still rang a few times, and I found myself talking to a morose client with the phone in one hand, shooting pictures of a Peregrine falcon with the other.  Brigid was incredulous; she is a very patient kid, though she is increasingly embarrassed by me in public, which gives me even greater hope for her.


Thursday, back to the marsh in the morning.  It takes 35 minutes to roast four pounds of cubed butternut squash and in that time:


16kg swing, high pull, snatch combo 5+5
10 clean to five press l/r, 20kg
20 swings, 28kg
5x
Ate too much.

Friday.  Napped with dog.  Then ate too much.


This morning.  In for MH's Saturday 9:30.  He addressed the class beforehand, telling us it was going to be slow, Iyengar style class and if we got tired of the long holds, just back off. With nothing the day before was really strong, though my tree sucked.  We were holding poses forever, and with quads or whatever was screaming, it was always "five more breaths."  Yeah buddy let's do this.


Afternoon, needed some Kbell work, but just in a funk at home.  We always talk about go anywhere but I never do it, so took the 20kg to the park along with the external speaker and found a mostly flat spot under a large oak tree and put on Bob Marley.
First circuit was Brett Jones' 11/23 Goblet squat swing snatch ladder, but my snatches are still not there so stuck to all swings.  Second was 3,2,1 tgu ladder to 10 clean five press both sides, then 2,1 tgus, cleans and presses, then 1 tgu, cleans and presses.  So 10 tgus each side, 30 cleans and 15 presses each side.  20kg is light on the presses, but the 28 is too heavy for the left, my holiday present to myself will be a 24kg.


Looking up at the oak branches on the TGUS , with squirrels and crows cruising about at dusk was just great, great,great.  Fifty is just fine.





 

Yoga Jerk

"Who's the more foolish, the fool, or the fool who follows him?"
Obi Wan Kenobi


I love many things.
I love big band swing.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=--ybdh8RFUE
I love banjos, mandolins, smooth dobro, John Duffy's tenor, and three part harmony.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wigjZ7ng_tc 
I love muscular women, dancing strong and fast on pointe.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PXQSCa8gwx
I love my dog.

But I do not love him.

There are six billion people in the world, we need to get along.
If we can't love each other, we at least need to tolerate one another.
We need to be patient and understanding.
We need to honor social contracts, to be aware of, and adhere to, basic societal norms.
We need to follow the Golden Rule.

Still, he drives me crazy.

He came in late, as he often does.
He dropped his mat next to my head.
He rolled it out too close.
He ran it right up to that of the lovely young woman in front of him.
He dropped heavily to his knees and groaned loudly, announcing his arrival.

He is large, hairy, middle-aged, and though reasonably fit, he should not be wearing tiny shorts and nothing else.

Our teacher, MH, is a beautiful man.
His practice is strong and elegant.
His voice is smooth and calming; he uses it sparingly.
He encourages humility, to practice within one's ability and without ego.
He reminds us that child's pose is restorative and an invitation is not required.
We come to his class to learn, to practice, and with at least the hope, if not the expectation, of improvement.

MH is wasted on my scantily clad neighbor.

My neighbor lunges forward, slamming his foot between his hands, ignoring MH's gentle directives.
He refuses to take the less difficult variation, he is constantly off balance, sweating profusely and falling out repeatedly.
He ogles, he caves, he curls his spine when he should be offering his heart (what a wonderful phrase).
Yet he refuses all aid, no blocks, straps or blankets for him and MH has given up.

Standing bent over with hands on knees sucking wind is not a pose.

He brings out the worst in me, I am descending to his level.
I cannot help but get competitive, I want to grind him into his mat.
My half moon has never been better, strong through the heel and all four directions, he falls out, nearly lands on his ass.
MH takes us to Vasisthasana on the right side, MH invites us to go to tree, and to lift the left leg.  I do and hold it.  He tries, and falls loudly.  Oops, says MH, no shame in falling out.  We have become co-conspirators.

I love MH.

Time for pidgeon and I fear what is coming.
MH is going to keep us here for awhile, and that is good.
But my neighbor starts moaning, loudly.
He is hunched over, shoulders around his ears, sharing his reverie with the class.  There is this invisible bubble around him and I am in it.

He is a nuclear blast to my inner calm, this class is shot for me.

His incantations continue in shoulder stand.
We go to plow, and come back down, MH coaching, slowly, one vertebrae at a time.
He slams down and heaves loudly.
Time for Savasana, I do not stand a chance, I am tense, waiting for his loud sighs of contentment.
Salvation; he is stomping around me, rolling up his mat, running out, too busy for completion.
The whole room lightens in anticipation.  A final loud thwock by my right ear; his wet towel.  Fine, I got it buddy, just go.

We go through closing.  We bow, hands in prayer, and give thanks to whoever or whatever it is that we hold higher than ourselves.  Namaste.

I open my eyes and look at MH, he looks at me, winks and grins knowingly.
The lovely woman in front gives me a rueful smile while rolling up her mat.
I pick up his towel, and leave.  The group has extended a helping hand, forgiven my competitve impulse.
I will continue to work on tolerance, understanding, and forgiveness, and just plain letting go.

But if he gets near me again he is dust.

Nuclear Pheromones

"Emancipate yourself from mental slavery."
Bob Marley, Redemption Song

I got this Starbucks CD, free with a 15.00 purchase.  Four tracks, covers, except for Dave Matthews singing this really stupid song called You and Me Together.  Playing it in the car coming up from Grandma's tonight wanted to rip it it out and throw it out the window, except the last track is a cover of Redemption Song.  Not even a Starbucks special can fuck up Bob Marley.

I don't like large group fitness classes.  At all.  Only time I ever got the group vibe was in May 1981 running the Clam Beach run from Trinidad down along Clam Beach north of Arcata.  In a pack of  few hundred people we dove downhill into a small fern covered canyon where there was a house with a beat up deck with massive speakers on it blasting Lively Up Yourself and sending it resonating all over the canyon.  You could feel the bass coming up the soles of your shoes and the whole pack simultaneously let out a loud cheer and the energy level skyrocketed and powered by caffeine, THC and Marley we stepped it up big time.

That I get.  I don't get fifty people packed into a shoe box sweating together which is what they were doing in Equinox last night at 6 when I walked in.  The place was packed, but I needed to kill four hours before picking up Ian on Fillmore.  Could not get near the kbells for the first circuit, not that anyone was using them.  So, dumbells and barbells, that went like this:
Cardio
pushups to renegade rows, 35lb, 5+5+5+5
30 walking lunges, body weight
80 lb barbell, squat to press, 10x
30lb single leg deads 6+6. barbell made this very interesting
3x
 second circuit only space is in the center of the gym because they have all these stupid machines in there, so I am a show dog, which I also hate.

16kg windmills, 8+8
32kg swings, 30 seconds, which was 20 per
TGUS 16kg 2+2, 24 kg 2+2
Figure 8 to hold, 24kg, 15.
3x
Third circuit on the swings remembered S. Cheatam's military spouse article and her head position in the photos on the swing.  Her head and neck are completely in line and she is looking down while hiking back.  Modeled that in the mirror a few times (very scary) and then gave it a go, 32 popped up like a cork, I can work with this.  The 16kg feels like nothing.  Some what I think were Janda sit ups and rolling around in the yoga room, steam and stumble out at nearly 9.

On Fillmore looking for raw fish.  No go.  Resist the urge to step into Harry's for a scotch.  Settle for crab cakes and a serviceable Malbec.  Call Ian.  Dir en Grey is done.  Tell him to start walking up Fillmore, I spy him from two blocks away, in a pack of teenage boys, they all look the same except his neon blonde head.  He piles in, had a ball, tales from the periphery of the mosh pit.  He is happy which means his voice goes up an octave and he sounds eight again.  I try to keep him talking.  He explains that he has been jamming with his buddies and they have formed a band, Nuclear Pheromones.  I want to press for the origin, but have to bite my tongue to keep from giggling.

Sleep in and work from home this am.  Catch the 11:10 ferry and head in, aiming for MH's noon class before I have to put on a suit and go spend time with Judge Feng.  Boat is slow and I miss MH noon by five minutes.  Six miles on elliptical.  Up to Feng, where we deal with what we need to; he calls me David on the record, repeatedly.  Been doing this for 20+ years, no judge has ever referred to me by my first name on the record.  Resist the urge to ask if I can call him Sam.  Walk out, opposing counsel tells me he is worried because Feng clearly likes me.  I tell him I could easily lose this case, Feng does like me because I can try a case without being a prick, but that will have no impact on the outcome.  He feels better.  Glad I could help him.

The emails are slowing and get back to gym in time for MH's stiff guy class, where we spend an hour doing hip openers.  By the time we get to double pidgeon I feel young again.  Grandma feeds us, north where the dog is joyful.

Critters

"Every morning I jump out of bed and step on a landmine. The landmine is me. After the explosion, I spent the rest of the day putting the pieces together."
Ray Bradbury
The Ian critter auditioned yesterday for the part of  Chevalier Danceny in Porchlight Theater's summer production of Les liaisons dangereuses.  He did a monologue from Bradbury's Pillar of Fire.  When he was done, the director sat back and said:  "Holy shit." So Ian is pretty happy.  In contrast to his audition on Thursday for Puck in MSA's one act of Midsummer Night's Dream, which he apparently tanked on, and was really grouchy.  He is a roller coaster; so much like me at 16 it is unnerving.
Coyote in the marsh yesterday morning.  Rose wanted to be friends but kept her distance.

Friday, am meeting, then four miles on the elliptical and a really good yoga class with MH.
Saturday, marsh walk with Rose.  Then into SF for kettlebell turned reformer session with Brigid and Cecilia T.  Brigid is really really tight and locked up in her lumbar spine, worse than I knew.  Cecilia was very good with her and if I can get Brigid back in we will.  Citizen Cake (best fucking lemon bar I ever ate) then the Haight.  Back to grandma's where Barry was stashed, ate pizza and watched Cal beat Stanford.  Yay !
Long hike with Rose and Ian on Burdell today, good for all of us, even with Ian's Norwegian Death Metal soundtrack; fortunately batteries died on the speaker.   Ok bird day, two huge Ravens, Redtails, Coopers Hawk, bunch of woodpeckers.  Burdell is a treasure.
In City late tomorrow evening to collect Ian, so late session at Equinox, hope holiday will thin the crowd down and I can put the pieces together for a little while.

Be Good

"Be-bop wasn't developed in any deliberate way."
Thelonius Monk

Four albums I listened to when I was 12:  Bridge Over Troubled Water, Bookends, Sly & The Family Stone's Greatest Hits, and Monks Dream.  They just put up Monk's performance from Newport in 1959 on Wolfgangs Vault.  Charles Rouse on Tenor, fat fat sound, just wonderful.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yxX0-Oa

Whiney last post.  Want to edit it out, but need the reminder.
Wednesday, three hours to Soledad.  Dreading meeting Donald, looked in the mirror in the head before going in, thought I looked like shit, bleary eyed, scruffy, and harried.
Walked in, half hour late.  Donald chained to the table, lit up when I came in, only creature that happy to see me these days is my dog.  "David man, you look great, what are you doing to yourself, man I am blown away."  Later it came out he'd been in solitary for three weeks which explains alot.  Still, it was a delightful three hour visit, not the least of the reasons was getting authority to settle his case, put money in his pocket and move on.  "I am going to do what you tell me man, cause I trust you and I know you ain't gonna sell me out."  He is rolled out the door, waiving over his shoulder calling softly:  "Be good David."  This is why I did this.

Feeling good, in the visitor lot on the way out.  Red tail lands on the light standard.  Camera is in the car and I start shooting.  Minute later, three cars come screaming up, guy yelling "put down the camera."  Three burly guards around, armed to the teeth.  "What the fuck are you doing here ?"  "Uhm, taking pictures of the hawk that was up there."  Check the ID, hassle me for five minutes, look at the pictures, ok, you can go.  A little touchy there . . .
Coming through SF at 5, stop for 5:15 yoga.  Great class, lots of warrior three variations, very strong.
Today, get in at 7:20.  Ten minutes with Monk on the treadmill.  Phone starts ringing, planned five miles turns into one.
Back in the evening, went like this:
15 Hindu push-ups
10 goblet squats, 24kg
BUP 5+5 16/12kg x2
8+8 single leg deads, 16kg
3x
16kg high swing, pull snatch 5+5
32 kg swings, 20
TGUS 2+2 16kg, 2+2 24k
60 sec plank
3x
Wine tasting at Equinox.  Look at it going out, last thing I want.  Long road north to kids and home.

Not LikeTexas

“I have always had the feeling I could do anything and my dad told me I could. I was in college before I found out he might be wrong.”
Ann Richards

For anyone reading this (if anyone is reading this) Ann Richards was a class act, smart school teacher who was Governor of Texas before Karl Rove sent her packing and installed George W. Bush as Governor.  We have had some sick Texas folk the last decade and with all due apologies to Lyle Lovett, who I do love, the place is just down right western weird.  Check it out: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jSJ0RuOeqCI
We lived in Texas from 1962 to 1967; in Dallas when JFK got shot, left when my father (who grew up in New York and had a graduate degree from Columbia) could no longer stand hearing his children grow up with Texas accents, and landed us in the Bay Area in 1967.  We went from Roger Miller ("King of the Road") to the Grateful Dead ("The Golden Road to Unlimited Devotion") in about a week and there are pieces of us that are still in Lyle Lovett, Joe Ely, Jimmie Dale Gilmore, Jerry Jeff Walker, Robert Earl Keen country.  Weird places breed good songwriters and how the hell could you leave Townes off the list.  Hot dirt makes good art.
San Francisco is not so direct and some of that has to do with geography.  Unlike Texas you can never see your destination from a distance; there are no straight lines to anywhere.  Its like being wrapped in a cocoon surrounded by gentle hills and it is always a relief to return, no matter where you went or why you left.

Spoiled rotten and your medium sized dog too.

Up Market street Monday at 7:05, went like this:
20 cp, alternating l/r 24kg, switch to 10 pushups, good coaching from Sneha when she took off the invisibility cloak the floor trainers seem to wear.  Don't be harsh, she is terrific, particularly good help on left which is decidedly weaker.
30 box squats, body weight.
20 walking overhead press, 16 kg
8+8 single leg deads, 16 kg, in honor of Sara Cheatham's 11/10 blog post, photos from military rag.  http://saracheathamsblog.blogspot.com/2009/11/my-article-in-military-spouse-magazine.html. She might be the healthiest human animal ever, need to show this to Brigid who wants to do ROTC in high school.
3x
8+8 windmills, 16kg
swing, highpull, snatch progression, 16kg 5+5
32 kg swings, 30 seconds
TGU, 2+2 16kg, 2+2 24kg
2x, ran out of time.

Back for 5 miles of hamster work in pm.

Tuesday am, six miles.  Wanted to return for MH stiff guy class in the pm; either hips or hammies, anything is better than shoulders.
Not happening.  Phone was ringing as it was getting dark.  Addenda to draft on no notice.  Receivables to stress about.  You can't be or do whatever you want.  You do what needs to be done.  Pretty much where Jay was coming from.  Three hours each way tomorrow to see Donald in his maximum security shithole.  Suck it up.  Look forward to getting back.

Down Time

"A door is what a dog is perpetually on the wrong side of."
Ogden Nash

Made a crack about baby seal pictures while being unkind to Adam Gopnick last week.  See ?
Saturday good flow class with MH.  Ninety minutes of tension and sweat.  With only a walk on Friday was really strong so the one legged stuff, warrior three variations, half moon, were all solid.  Staying up in triangle to keep torso straight, better.  Plank and vinyasas really strong, no shoulder soreness at all.  Held crow for a good bit.
Hanging with Barry all day Saturday, boring routine stuff, more time at the house than I'd spent in weeks.  Opening and closing the door for Rose.  Glad I can be of service.

She is gimpy so no walk, evening was just a 25 minute blast like this:

16kg swing, high pull, snatch combo 5+5
10 clean to five press l/r, 20kg
20 swings, 28kg
5x



Today, rejuvinating two hour nap on the floor in the sun with my constant companion.  She was disappointed, no mud, salt water or shit to eat,  but one of us has to be the adult in the relationship.

No Denim

"I hear the train a comin'; it's rollin' 'round the bend,
And I ain't seen the sunshine since I don't know when."
Folsom Prison Blues, Johnny Cash

Donald Young was convicted of kidnapping and first degree murder in March of 1983.  He was sentenced to life without parole.  He was 23.
A few years later he was diagnosed with Ankylosing Spondilitis, a degenerative disease affecting his spine.  His condition coupled with the glacial pace of the California Department of Corrections responses to his ever increasing medical needs gave him the opportunity to become a serial plaintiff.  He has filed multiple actions based on the federal Civil Rights Act due to the state's inability to timely respond to his medical needs.  The fact that he is smart, mouthy and a born leader who goads the correctional staff to retaliate adds color to his claims.
I met Donald in 2008, when I was appointed to represent him, in what I think is his 12th or 13th case against the state.  Representing him means visiting him for extended periods in several maximum security facilities, which, god willing, I would never otherwise have the chance to visit.  Donald is in a wheelchair, but his upper body is extraordinarily fit; Donald is a true badass.  He doesn't scare the shit out of me, but he comes close.  I don't like him, at all, but his appetite for learning is impressive.  He always brings a pad and pencil and writes down any word I use he is unsure of, and is always sure to use it, correctly, in follow up correspondence.
There is a litany of rules for visiting inmates.  One rule is no denim.  Inmates wear denim, no one else, and there is no room for ambiguity.  The Department of Corrections staff are incredibly polite, and first time I visited Donald I joked with the admitting officer that I'd almost worn my jeans.  All humor drained from her face:  "It would have taken you days to get out of here."  Oh.

Earlier this week planned on spending Friday and Saturday in Folsom with Donald, preparing for trial to start Monday 11/16.  Got six miles of cardio in on Tuesday, and sixty minutes MH's Stiff Guy yoga class, where we spent an hour on shoulders.  It sucked but needed it badly.  Wednesday, no exercise, 18 hours in Irvine settling a real estate case, missing the last flight to SF and having to fly into Oakland late, cabbing it to SFO to pick up the car, getting in after midnight exhausted but wired, spent an hour drinking Malbec and watching You Tube videos of Lauren Brooks and Mark Reifkind doing high pulls and snatches and some Hungarian guy doing some really crisp cleans.
Thursday, trial prep.  Five miles in the morning, to the office all day, then load up the largest Timbuktu bag made with 35 pounds of paper and hit the gym.  Might be the only workout for a while, went like this:
15 Hindu push-ups
10 goblet squats, 24 kg
10 clean to five press, 24kg/r 24/16 kg left.
20 tactical lunges, 16 kg
3x
Five 16kg high swing, pull, snatch combos, l/r, much better
10 windmills, 16kg 5l/5r
15 32kg swings, these were great
TGUS, 16kg 2l/r, 24kg 2l/r
3x
Back down market st. to ferry, Timbuktu/gym bag bandolier, look like an idiot but functional fitness in action.

Today.  Up early to get to Folsom by 9:00.  Since no denim the only casual pants I have that won't fall off are 17 year old very faded black dockers, with ripped hems, bleached spots, and paint splatters.  Shit, going to be with Donald behind a metal table all day, going to be comfortable.  He won't care.  Throw on a washed out light shit brown turtleneck, no shave or beard trim, look like a mangy aged rottweiler.  Add a nice dollop of coffee down the front going up highway 37, yes Donald, your counsel is here, ready to prep you for your 12th or 13th civil rights case.
Get off at Greenback, start looking for Folsom prison.  Directions are ambiguous as hell.  Pull over to figure out where I am, AG's office calls.  Donald is still at the prison in Salinas.  He missed the bus to Folsom.  WTF, how could he miss the bus, he is in a wheelchair and it takes four guys to move him.
AG says, come down to my office, we will call the judge, get a short continuance.  Wonderful.  Mangy aged rottweiler now gets to go face to face with the opposition.  Back down to Sac, praying the judge will not require us to appear, eyeing the pile of dirty shirts in the back seat, wondering if there truly is not a better option.  AG gives me a long look, but he is cool.  I keep it straight faced, we talk about our kids and drink too much coffee.  Judge gets it, kicks us  to 12/14.
Iphone freezes on the way back down.  No phone or email for 90 minutes.  May as well just shoot me.  Get home, spend an hour restoring everything.  4:00, take Rose to the marsh for a walk and to breathe.  Lost all the tunes on the ipod, can replace most, but will miss uber-hot Felicia Day vid, Do You Want to Date My Avatar.  In the marsh, stop every ten feet to send a snarky email to someone back in the office.  Reply at your peril.  Absolutely will not kick my dog; the rest of the world is fair game.
Back toward the car, somone has boosted Rose's harness and leash from the bush where I'd left it hanging.  $45.00 dollars of lab restraint now to  be replaced.
Brigid comes in, proud of the sprocket grease on her tricep.  She rocks.

Really looking forward to yoga in the morning . . .

Musings - Michael Fucking Chabon

"I have a deadline. I'm glad. I think that will help me get it done."
Michael Chabon

No shit buddy.  The question is what kind of deadline, are you paying the recipient, or is it a pissed off judge, with a crushing case load full of meth heads and violent crime dealing with budget cuts.
Anyway.  Michael Chabon and Adam Gopnik are at the Herbst tonight and I wish I was there.  Gopnik I can do without.  Decent essayist, but I'll take real reporters like Jane Mayer, Ken Auletta or John Lee Anderson, (ok Anderson writes for the Times, but his stuff is in the New Yorker quite a bit) any day.  Gopnik did a send-up on Sing Along Sound of Music about ten years ago that was very very funny, but he lost me when he went to Paris to write about life there with his young son.  It was cloying and too easy.  Yeah it was a best seller but how could he miss the side of that barn.  It's like taking cute pictures of kittens or baby seals.  Or your children or dog.

Chabon on the other hand is pretty amazing.  I have only read Wonder Boys and bits of Manhood for Amateurs, which I also wanted to hate.  Do I really care about your sex life with your wife or your getting laid at fifteen by one of your mother's friends ?  I didn't think so but he writes beautifully.  He is a good interview  as well and Ian would have liked it.


Nothing in morning with client meeting at 8:30 which I thought would last 30 minutes but stretched to 90.  He was manic and I went along with him.  It was 10:15, and I was already behind, mentally parsing up the day in six minute increments, trying to figure out how to get everything done.  Park in Portsmouth Square in Chinatown, race around the corner and nearly run into the column above.  Strength.  Slow down.  Breathe.

Walk into gym at 6:00.  I hate Equinox at 6:00 on any evening except Fridays and Mondays are the worst.  Full of young people in Lulu Lemon, I am the oldest straight guy by a good 15 years.  Go stake out some space in the corner and try to get it started.  The trainers are all really cool and put the bells back between client sets when I am around, but there are only two 16kgs for the whole gym, and this guy is holding them doing heel raises.  He could have been using dumbells, or any two of the hundred or so 35 pound plates around, but no, had to use the kbells.  Grab two 35lb dumbells and start.


Pushups to renegade rows, 5 pushups to five rows, 2x
10 Goblet squats, 24kg
Walking alternating overhead press, ten out, ten back,  muttering Michael Fucking Chabon on the punch up r,l,r
Single leg squats to box, 10r/10l, right pretty good, left feels like shit
3x

BUP 12kg 5r/5l, 16kg 5r/1l, then back to 12, spastic but got better each circuit
windmills, 8r/l, spastic cause trying to keep torso straight
30 24kg swings, tired of being spastic so these were good and strong with bell flying up
TGUS, 2 16kg l/r, 2 24kg, l/r, spastic cause trying to keep good rkc form, though looking forward on the lunge helped.  Also better each circuit.
3x

After tomorrow it gets ugly.  Stay strong, don't forget to breathe.

Musings - Better

 

 

 

"Once in a while you get shown the light, in the strangest of places if you look at it right."
Scarlett Begonias, Robert Hunter


Loved that lyric 30 years ago, now sounds insipid.  But seemed tense and ugly all over the planet last week so retreated to the Grateful Dead play list in gym Thursday and it helped.
Thursday am, ten minutes late for Ericka's 7:00  class, hate it when people come in late, so stuck again on the elliptical for seven miles.  Back in the afternoon, went like this
 15 hindu push-ups
12 front squats, two 16 kgs in rack
20 renegade rows, 35lb dumbells, really focus on keeping shoulders level and no hip rotation, entirely different exercise from whatever I was doing before Ms. Tom straightened me out
eight 1/r single leg deadlifts, 16 kg, again focus on shoulders and hips level and square
3x

10 windmills l/r 16kg
30 swings, 24 kg
3,2,1, TGU ladders l/r, 16kg, again focus on rkc form and staying with it.
2x
Had to cut it short to get home and feed the masses.
Friday, worked from home busy busy, had to go into city for Judge Feng's swearing in at 5:30.  Was going to head into the gym before; but packing up, had not gotten Rose out and she is looking at me lovingly.  Traitor. Ok; scratch the gym, and head to the marsh. Beautiful afternoon.  Come home, and an hour later sitting in Soluna in a suit knocking back a pre ceremony Johnny Walker; three cubes will do it please, yes just like that, thank you.  Feng's swearing in funny as hell, great guy, but too many judges and lawyers in one place.  Flee as soon as acceptable, back to Soluna for one more, a really nice night.  Work up a good head of pity about how I would rather go out in SF, but no where to go.  So head back, where I thought it would just be me and Rose; but Brigid was there.  Put in Two Towers, pity gone, never should have been there in the first place.  Rest of crew comes tumbling in late.  Better.

Saturday, back down the freeway.  Ninety minute trance flow class.  MH commentary about what a weird week it was, everyone seems to agree so it wasn't just me.  Susan cancels meeting and then up to Praxis for session with Ms. Tom.  Not sure what to be most impressed by, the outstanding Stanford education, quiet low key style and observation, or the year of pole dancing on her resume.  Good coaching on everything we went over, need to watch ETK again on the elbow strike and get lats working in snatches.  Back down to downtown, accordian man playing Layla in Civic Center station.  Get down to Equinox, left the fucking keys in Hayes Valley, back up, accordian man now on I am the Walrus.  Once again to Equinox where I am waylaid by Ms. Patel who is also beautiful and smart, and she wants to sell me $300.00 worth of metabolic testing.  Yes, I am sure it would be helpful.  You are right, I probably do overtrain.  No, I don't intend to stop with the kettlebells until they need to be pried from my cold dead fingers.  Pick-up Barry at grandma's and negate all that good work by scarfing four slices of pepperoni and olive washed down with two glasses of chianti.  Barry full of soft smiles and handsome in his new haircut.

This am, take the north levee on the marsh walk.  Amazing the difference a couple of hundred yards can make on an ecosystem; southern levee is all ducks, geese and wading birds.  Northern levee is all about raptors and nervous rodents.  Rose is over-joyed.  Same place, two years ago, shooting pictures of an immature red tail, bird gets nervous and looks up.  Peregrine falcon high up on the same tower.  Red tail takes off and the Peregrine drops like a stone, get the fuck outta my space.  Never would have been there if not for being fit and for the dog.  Grateful for both every day.

Musings - Swinging in The Dark

"The sun is up, the sky is blue, its beautiful, and so are you."
Dear Prudence, John Lennon

Harsh on myself last post.  Dial it back there DT . . . yes you have work to do but so does everyone else. 
Click on the photo, the eye on the Northern Harrier is amazing, hate to be a field mouse . . .

Tuesday, hard day.  Running for 13 hours, finishing the day with a conference call starting at 3:30, dark dark in the office by the time it was done.  Long road home.  8:00 arrival, knew I would be toast if I sat down.
Quick change, out in the back yard with the moon coming up big.  Went like this, after pump stretches, Halos and warm up squats:

15 pushups to T side plank, alternating l/r
 20 tactical lunges, l/r 16kg
10 slow good renegade rows, 20kg, shoulders level, no hip rotation.
15 goblet squats, 20kg
3x

16 windmills 8 l/r, 20 kg
20 kg swings, 30 first circuit, 40 second and third
TGUs, 6 total alternating left right, 16, 18, 20 go slow, really focus on form.
15 of those sit-up that things we did on Sunday and are on Lauren Brooks' video, 16kg.
3x

All that was good, glad I did it, but back was tightening up due to the cold at the end.  Wear more clothes, no, don't call yourself a douche.

This morning, early up, five miles on the Habit Trail.  Intended to get back in pm for two more miles and core work or better yet yoga, but could not stand the thought of Brigid alone another night with her eldest brother.  Got on the 4:25 boat, some guy named Christopher L starts a YELP thread about the Beatles, rolling me back to Arcata in December 1980, drinking beer and angling for an angel faced blonde from Auburn after the Zoology final, and learning Lennon got shot.  Landing snapped out of the reverie, more work up the freeway, to early TJ's dim sum feast.

Cardfio and Kbells tomorrow, unless I can get in for a 7:00 yoga class with Ericka H, the sweet voiced drill instructor.  Need to breathe deep these days, a lot to do and it all matters.

Musings - Back up, Assess as in Ass- ess

"You are strong, you are beautiful"
John Wild Buckley

I have always liked JWB's slogan; positive, simple, empowering.
Me and Brigid, her at seven, August 2003 in the parking lot above Tom's Place at the trailhead to John Muir Wilderness.  Pre-Rose, I was pushing 240 and she could tuck up nicely under my belly . . . Eee gad, fat Dad.  But I did get her there.
 Ok week last week.  Saturday was a great flow class with  MH, started out, two old guys talkin': him, "how ya doin D ?"  Me:  "I don't know yet."  Him: "well we are going to take this slow. . ."  Me, channeling Lyle Lovett: "Honey its so early, we prob'ly shouldn't speak yet." Him: sidling away politely.
Slow did not mean taking it easy; held poses forever, series from warrior two to peaceful to triangle to half moon took about ten minutes per side and after 90 minutes just wrung out.  But felt strong.  Marsh walk in pm with Rose and Brigid was sublime.
Sunday, morning full of difficult work for good clients, then off to Praxis for late afternoon kbell clinic with the redoubtable Ms. Tom.  Beautiful afternoon in the City, god how I miss living in SF.
And god how I have missed good coaching.  Good mobility drills and some humbling takeaways:
1.  Renegade rows:  go light so you can keep the shoulders level and no twistng at the hips; mc did a good article on this, now listen, check your fucking ego at the door and stay at around 35lb, even lighter if you have to, until you can do it right.
2.  Snatch: no you really don't know how to do this exercise; what ever you have been doing ain't gonna cut it period, let alone for anything heavier that a 16.  Been grooving some really awful stuff here and I need to fix it.  It will take one on one work and I just need to start over; Cecilia busted me in about 1.5 seconds.  So no unsupervised and NO V02 max until you learn to walk.
3.  Deck squats are fun; saw the non momentum variety on You tube, think I can work toward this;
4.  Don't give up on your get-ups on the way down; another place where I need to slow down, check the ego at the door.  Time to groove a 16 or maybe a 24 if the 16 goes well.  Yes there is a lot of crap out there on the TGU's but that is not carte blanche to be a sloppy.

Oh yeah, and don't be too hard on yourself . . . You are strong, you are kind of ugly, but you do have a terrific dog.

Today, depo starting at eight am, grinding all day until 5, was going to skip workout but forced myself to hamster land and six miles on elliptical, which was a little over an hour.  Heart rate above 160 for most according to the hamster handles; whatever, I was glad I forced myself to do something.

Musings - wading in

"Do you want to know who you are? Don't ask. Act! Action will delineate and define you."
Thomas Jefferson

Tried a V02 max workout tonight, more later.
Sunday, three miles in marsh.
Insanely busy week, two workouts a day not in the cards, looks like my turn on the clock to ramp up the practice which is very good.

Monday, elliptical madness in morning, six miles, afternoon went like this:
15 pushups, feet on box, one foot up and switch
20 body weight box squats, , clean two 16kgs, then ten squat to press
20 renegade rows, 24kg
30 walking lunges
3x

10 1/r windmills, 16kg
30 swings, 24kg
TGUS, 2l/rx2 24kg
1 minute plank, foot up 15 sec and switch.
3x
Focusing on rkc form, straight leg, arm at 45, no more, hip bridge, hinkey left shoulder hard.
Tuesday
five miles elliptical
Wednesday
morning
20 cp 24kg alternating, then flip to ten pushups
Bulgarian split squats with 16kg overhead, 10 each side
16kg press 10 l/r kneeling on 65cm ball
30 body weight box squats
3x
snatch,windmill,tgu combo, 45lb oly bar, 2r2lx3
30 swings, 24 kg
10 reverse pull ups off of smith machine, feet on box
3x
oly bar combo was fun fun, need to remember to do that more often
evening
Good 60 minute vinyasa class
Thursday  3 mile marsh walk
Friday
Ragged work day.  Never got to the marsh, running non-stop, two new clients and one I am ready to fire.  Was tired and gonna blow off any training, but picked up the 16kg and did a few snatches.  What the hell.  Did 25 minute snatch session with the 16kg  15:15, 7x 50. 12,250 pounds, felt really good, then was going to go into a couple of hundred swings with the 20kg and just make it a light bell workout.  Hah.  Gassed after 60 swings, started to tear a callous and that was that at 29 minutes.
90 minutes of yoga in the AM then marsh walk, oh goody.

Musings - Smackdown

"Found someone who can comfort me, but there are always exceptions."
Steve Winwood, Empty Pages

Wanted to do better this week; tally was 25 miles, two yoga classes, and three training sessions.  But could have done better but for a lost Friday.  Thursday was three miles in the marsh, which is all I was aiming for.  But Friday I wanted five miles and a training session, setting up a third yoga class Saturday.

Not happening.  Friday hour long meeting stretched to three and a half, so no dice,  Got a mile in the morning, and late marsh walk with Peter W., and Ian.  Stunningly beautiful, Rose was ecstatic.

Saturday, knew would have to have a bell session; yoga would be the casualty.  Rolled out on another walk with Rose and Ian, he is very chatty these days and really really good company.

Training in the pm went like this:

16 pushups to side plank, alternating sides
step back lunges, 10 l/r, 20 kg in rack
10 rows, l/r 28kg
12 front squats, 20 kg
3x
7 windmills l/r 20kg
10 clean to five press 20kg, l/r
15 swings, 28 kg
TGU's, 2 28kg l/r, to 2 20kg l/r
3x

Pressing the 20 kg was easy on the right side, which was expected, but also good on left, which after last weeks crap with the 24kg was good.  Kept the swing count low with the 28, just cause the back felt hinkey.
What was really hinkey was climbing out of the shower, stepped onto the tile floor, and slipped, bad, hit the ground hard but strong core and arms took most of the momentum out, so when the head snapped back and hit the tile step it was a hard hit, but not too bad.   Still no fun, but if I had been weak that could have been bad.

Musings - Sore Shoulders

"Naturally we would prefer seven epiphanies a day and an earth not so apparently devoid of angels."
Jim Harrison

The above is one of my top five favorite pictures of the thousands I have taken; Brigid at five, nine years ago, skipping down a long green trail to the Pacific.

I was so heavy when I took that the lousy half mile to the beach had me sweating; but I got the shot, so who's to judge ?
Priorities change and we ought not be so hard on ourselves.


Sunday Kbell clinic with Cecilia T.  Smart person, sort of whack job I like.  When a trainer tells me to move a foot in an inch, straighten a leg three inches, watch the arm angle, fix your wrist, work on it.  Confess to a weak left side.  Go light on the demo, all stuff worth listening to.  Ninety minutes, worked up a sweat, good stuff.


Monday, six boring miles on the elliptical, heart rate, at least according to the hand sensors, above 155 for a solid 45 minutes, thanks to mid-70's Stones and Tower of Power.
Afternoon grueling yoga, too fast, no soul, miss MH.  Whole class joylessly sucking wind.


Tuesday, five miles, then

10 pushups to l/r renegade rows, 24kg
10 l/r single leg squats
10 clean to five press, 24 kg four on right, no more than three on left, drop down to multiple 16's for left, too easy.

8 single leg deads, l/r, 16kg
3x


10 windmills l/r 16 kg
30 swings, 24 kg
TGU's, 2 32kf l/r, 2 24kg l/r
10 woodchoppers, l/r 6 plate cable machine
3x


Above was gruelling but all felt good.  Left side press just sucked, whereas right flew up.  TGUS a total grind, but happily so.


Wednesday, four miles in the am, great MH vinyasa class.  Lots of hard core work, plank felt rock solid, the real deal.  Slow tomorrow, kick out Friday, long yoga class sat., as Picard would say: "make it so."