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.