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.