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Ask Cristi, Ask Steel
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It Worked For Me
I study training stuff all of the time. I enjoy it. When I think about it, pretty much all I do when I am at work or for three to four hours on my own is read about training, or talk about training or watch videos of people training.
And yes, there are lots of programs out there. After awhile, if I hadn't been doing this forever, I could see how it gets so confusing to folks just starting out.
So what did I do when I first began in the Iron Game?
Everything.
I did Heavy Duty (Mike Mentzer), Arnold's High Volume, Hatfield stuff, Sheiko, 70"s powerlifting(One heavy set), Yates, and on and on.
And I competed. Powerlifting and bodybuilding. When you are training for something, you better find what works for you, and fast. No question, no question at all, you must compete to really find what your body needs and what is most effective for you. It accelerates your learning and gives more meaning to everything that you do in training.
Here is what I found out works for me:
Sheiko/Hatfield type of volume is super when trying to get strong. A foundation, and a good one , is built with that type of volume. Not beginning level Sheiko, but Master's level or Sergey Mor's cycle. I am sure that I botched his name, but that stuff works. You are training in the 80-90% range so often that it becomes nothing after awhile. Even 70% seems like a waste of time. You can just go right to 80% without even thinking about it. And Mor had test days in there also. Maxing in the middle of a cycle? Yep, and it works. You do so many sets that the simple act of setting up with a 85-90% squat becomes rote. And those multiple sets get you bigger also, along with the assistance work. Cycle that in with a few months of random heavy ass doubles and singles and going for rep records just for the hell of it and you will be a beast.
Bodybuilding? Keep the basics in there as your first exercise- the Press, Deadlift, Squat, Dumbell or Barbell bench. Behind the Neck Press also. Close Grip Bench press. Five to eight sets of three to eight reps. Heavy. That last set should feel like you are bleeding from your ears.
Then hit assistance work. As heavy as you can go with decent form. And sometimes not decent form. Sometimes Branch Warren form. Sometimes squeeze the heck out of it. At least ten to fifteen sets. I like five sets of twelve to fifteen reps of three exercises. And work fast on assistance. Thirty seconds rest. No fooling around. Almost to failure or to failure each set. And you can switch that up also- perform some drop sets, some forced reps, go up and down the rack. Why five sets? Because three is for cowards. Just kidding. I just like focusing on three assistance exercises at five sets each. I feel like I am stopping short at three sets. Just my quirk.
How many days a week? Especially if you are going to compete? You can train everyday. You will adjust eventually if you let your mind accept the fact that you can do it. At least five days. If you feel that you aren't recovered, make sure that it isn't your mind getting weak. If you are sore, train anyway. Who said soreness makes you weak? Excuses are old as hell and I probably shouldn't address them, but there are just folks out there who like the idea of getting big and strong but the application is lost because of the commitment required.
It reminds me of my old buddy Todd who always asked me to go Smallmouth Bass fishing but when we finally went, he just wanted to get away from his wife and drink beer. He liked the idea of fishing. But actually fish? Too much work.
Action is the key here. Beginning the thing. And although I consider the aforementioned programs ideal, if you just lift heavy and hard consistently, you will make gains. No missed work outs and you will get there. You won't if you take time off because you can not make it to the gym.
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All I Can Do Is Write About It
I am sitting here thinking about what to write about . I want to write about so many things and then I think, ah, forget it. Nobody wants to know about that stuff.
I'm thinking about cool people versus people who just don't get it. How when a crisis situation comes up one always finds out who is really there for you. What, about 3-4 people? Yep, everyone else is just in it for themselves. That's okay, just smile, nod your head and move on. Hang out with dogs. That's better anyway. Smartest thing humans ever did, domesticating wolves. There is no lying in dogs.
I'm thinking about people who don't do their jobs right, whether its pumping gas or being a doctor. You know, they just don't freakin care. No pride. Ah, whatever. And how people steal my book even though it is only ten bucks. Nice.
I am thinking about Ronnie Van Zant and what a cool dude he really was and how some of his songs were just killer stuff. A poet, he was. People I hang out with that are in their twenties and thirties haven't even heard of him.
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I am thinking about this perplexing email I received from this lady one time ripping into me , calling me all sorts of names. I had written her an email trying to fire her up to do great things in the weight room, and she had seriously gotten it all wrong and made an ass of herself. It reminds me exactly of this girl I used to train who had never had a coach or played sports and when I exhorted her with C'MON! before she squatted, she thought that I was actually yelling at her, being negative. Same type of thing. I feel sorry for her, she is so out of it.
Thinking about cheesy damn people. Oh, man, you are so cheesy. Ugh, just lift. Yeah, I know, you are doing a mudfunruncrosstrainjudo thing and you were the one who thought of everything and you did this in high school and you used to do this and your knee injury and you are this and your wife is that and you you you you and that ugh, I am not listening and to tell you the truth I really am thinking about my dogs and I just like my dogs and please just lift.
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I was thinking of this friend of mine who I really admire because even though he has a great job that he loves, he never changes who he is, not for a minute. He is in his forties and he throws down in a second if needed. He is not scared of any man. He got in a street fight a few years back and I asked him, "Aren't you afraid of losing your job?" and he said, "Steel, I will never have anything hanging over my head." Just matter of fact, it's the way that he is, the way that he decided to live his life, maybe because he grew up so crappy or saw his brother die or his dad waste away or because he got jumped constantly when he was a kid and had to defend himself, I don't know. But I find that attitude of his pretty admirable.
I am thinking about the book that I was gonna write about diet and and getting motivated and then I am thinking that what is really needed is for people to just man up a little and learn to be hungry. That the secret is to be hungry and eat protein and fat and vegetables . Not many want it to be simple. Ah, it just irritates me even writing it. Eat what you want, look how you want, who really cares? You decide to do it, great. If not, rock on. Diet, don't diet, smoke, don't smoke, drink don't drink. It is your responsibility, and only yours. You need someone to tell you what's right? probably not. You have it in you already. I was talking to someone about diet and they interrupted me and said, "Coach, I know what to eat, I just don't do it. "At least he was honest.
I am thinking about how you put someone on a program and then they add stuff to it and then they wonder why they don't get strong. Follow it. Or don't. Yes, Dr. Squat wrote the program. Yes he squatted 1014 pounds. Yes, you should add extra days in so you get weaker. He actually meant to put
in those extra days, he just forgot.
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I am thinking about Cody Lundin for some reason. I think that other than the braids, he pretty much has a badass life. A really badass life.
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I'm thinking about cool people versus people who just don't get it. How when a crisis situation comes up one always finds out who is really there for you. What, about 3-4 people? Yep, everyone else is just in it for themselves. That's okay, just smile, nod your head and move on. Hang out with dogs. That's better anyway. Smartest thing humans ever did, domesticating wolves. There is no lying in dogs.
I'm thinking about people who don't do their jobs right, whether its pumping gas or being a doctor. You know, they just don't freakin care. No pride. Ah, whatever. And how people steal my book even though it is only ten bucks. Nice.
I am thinking about Ronnie Van Zant and what a cool dude he really was and how some of his songs were just killer stuff. A poet, he was. People I hang out with that are in their twenties and thirties haven't even heard of him.
I am thinking about this perplexing email I received from this lady one time ripping into me , calling me all sorts of names. I had written her an email trying to fire her up to do great things in the weight room, and she had seriously gotten it all wrong and made an ass of herself. It reminds me exactly of this girl I used to train who had never had a coach or played sports and when I exhorted her with C'MON! before she squatted, she thought that I was actually yelling at her, being negative. Same type of thing. I feel sorry for her, she is so out of it.
Thinking about cheesy damn people. Oh, man, you are so cheesy. Ugh, just lift. Yeah, I know, you are doing a mudfunruncrosstrainjudo thing and you were the one who thought of everything and you did this in high school and you used to do this and your knee injury and you are this and your wife is that and you you you you and that ugh, I am not listening and to tell you the truth I really am thinking about my dogs and I just like my dogs and please just lift.
I was thinking of this friend of mine who I really admire because even though he has a great job that he loves, he never changes who he is, not for a minute. He is in his forties and he throws down in a second if needed. He is not scared of any man. He got in a street fight a few years back and I asked him, "Aren't you afraid of losing your job?" and he said, "Steel, I will never have anything hanging over my head." Just matter of fact, it's the way that he is, the way that he decided to live his life, maybe because he grew up so crappy or saw his brother die or his dad waste away or because he got jumped constantly when he was a kid and had to defend himself, I don't know. But I find that attitude of his pretty admirable.
I am thinking about the book that I was gonna write about diet and and getting motivated and then I am thinking that what is really needed is for people to just man up a little and learn to be hungry. That the secret is to be hungry and eat protein and fat and vegetables . Not many want it to be simple. Ah, it just irritates me even writing it. Eat what you want, look how you want, who really cares? You decide to do it, great. If not, rock on. Diet, don't diet, smoke, don't smoke, drink don't drink. It is your responsibility, and only yours. You need someone to tell you what's right? probably not. You have it in you already. I was talking to someone about diet and they interrupted me and said, "Coach, I know what to eat, I just don't do it. "At least he was honest.
I am thinking about how you put someone on a program and then they add stuff to it and then they wonder why they don't get strong. Follow it. Or don't. Yes, Dr. Squat wrote the program. Yes he squatted 1014 pounds. Yes, you should add extra days in so you get weaker. He actually meant to put
in those extra days, he just forgot.
I am thinking about Cody Lundin for some reason. I think that other than the braids, he pretty much has a badass life. A really badass life.
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The Scent Of New Death
Mike Monson writes like a guy from Prince Georges County, Maryland. In the seventies and early eighties. When Maryland was pretty much a Southern state and the cops beat the hell out of you for looking at them sideways and you could shoot a gun outside of your house and not get crucified over it. And Budweiser was king and country bars dotted the landscape of Route 1, and the Pagans controlled the strip bars.
Hell, that's where and when I grew up. No wonder this crazy dude appeals to me. I read his stuff straight through and ignore everything else until I get done.
His latest novella, The Scent Of New Death is very, very good . Of course, like Monson's other stuff, it's slightly demented and sick , and just when you think somebody is gonna do something normal, they rape or slice somebody up.
And that's what makes him so good and that's his style for sure. I'm like, uh oh , here it comes, it's not gonna be just a bullet to the head, it's gonna be much more than THAT for sure.
The book is filled with treacherous females who have sex issues to badass dudes who never leave a witness to testify. I really like the main character, Phil Gaines. He is always flying under the radar. He is a man that everyone knows is super dangerous, so dangerous that nobody will even talk about him. He is a criminal but he meditates. He keeps to himself, lives a quiet life, but isn't scared of anything or anybody.
This book should be made into a movie. I hope Monson gets the BIG break one day soon, he deserves it for his exceptional talent.
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Ask Cristi, Ask Steel
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Hanging Out With Bill Starr
I have known Bill Starr for a few years. If you are not familiar with who he is, just Google him. He is one of the original strength coaches.
I really like the man. You talk about some stories? He has some stories. He was with the Colts (Baltimore) when Johnny Unitas was on the team. Johnny Unitas. Starr had one squat rack and a bar with some plates at training camp. And that was IT. That was the weight room. He worked one on one with Mike Curtis. They met at a local gym from time to time. Curtis would not train if a women was in the gym. Also, Curtis pressed 300 pounds overhead. Thats a pretty good press.
Coach Starr wrote Only The Strong Survive which is still, in my opinion, THE book of strength training for football.
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He was in the Navy, and that is where he first learned to lift weights. He learned by trial and error. He has coached at the University Of Maryland, the University of Hawaii, The Colts, Johns Hopkins. And of course he was an amazing lifter and trained at York Barbell in the days of Kono, Bednarski and those folks.
He drove to Johns Hopkins (which is in Baltimore) every day from Havre de Grace which is quite a trip (about an hour with traffic) and he was getting paid much less than 20,000 dollars a year. Much less. He just loved coaching, so he did it.
What is he like? Salt of the earth. He is a minimalist. He lives in a small apartment in Maryland. He writes articles for a few magazines and websites. He has authored a few other books that are really superb. He paints. He walks 45 minutes a day, and still trains everyday in his apartment. He cooks wonderful soft shell crabs. He has no cell phone, just a land line. Most of the time he has the phone connected to a fax. No computer. If you want to get in touch with him, you fax him or write him a letter. He likes letters, and feels that writing a good letter is a lost art. I really don't think that money is very important to him.
When I visit him I bring him a few Miller beers. Not the light ones. Miller. It's what he drinks. But just a few. Nothing crazy.
And I ask him training questions and advice.
One time, my former assistant Brett Crossland had a question about high pulls. Starr took him into the bedroom and was extolling the benefits of the exercise. "Throw the weight over your head!" , Starr said, and Brett put it through the ceiling. But Starr just said, "That's alright." He was all fired up. The man loves the high pull.
I will go a long way for a good story and I am in awe when Starr begins to talk of the old days. Man! I almost forgot. He worked for Weider back in the early days. When Arnold first arrived in California. Arnold and Franco and Weider and all of those guys from those times.
I cherish my visits with him. Once we walked across the street and ate the best Cream of Crab soup around and drank a few Millers and talked training. Another time, I went with him for his daily walk and peppered him with questions. He doesn't change his schedule. You just go with the flow.
He loves Willie Nelson and Seinfeld. He believes in hard, gut busting work. And he is beyond caring what people think about him or his opinions. He is giving as hell, and I rarely leave without him giving me a magazine with an article in it that he has written or a signed copy of one of his books.
Bill Starr! A helluva man and a great coach. I am proud to know him.
I really like the man. You talk about some stories? He has some stories. He was with the Colts (Baltimore) when Johnny Unitas was on the team. Johnny Unitas. Starr had one squat rack and a bar with some plates at training camp. And that was IT. That was the weight room. He worked one on one with Mike Curtis. They met at a local gym from time to time. Curtis would not train if a women was in the gym. Also, Curtis pressed 300 pounds overhead. Thats a pretty good press.
Coach Starr wrote Only The Strong Survive which is still, in my opinion, THE book of strength training for football.
He was in the Navy, and that is where he first learned to lift weights. He learned by trial and error. He has coached at the University Of Maryland, the University of Hawaii, The Colts, Johns Hopkins. And of course he was an amazing lifter and trained at York Barbell in the days of Kono, Bednarski and those folks.
He drove to Johns Hopkins (which is in Baltimore) every day from Havre de Grace which is quite a trip (about an hour with traffic) and he was getting paid much less than 20,000 dollars a year. Much less. He just loved coaching, so he did it.
What is he like? Salt of the earth. He is a minimalist. He lives in a small apartment in Maryland. He writes articles for a few magazines and websites. He has authored a few other books that are really superb. He paints. He walks 45 minutes a day, and still trains everyday in his apartment. He cooks wonderful soft shell crabs. He has no cell phone, just a land line. Most of the time he has the phone connected to a fax. No computer. If you want to get in touch with him, you fax him or write him a letter. He likes letters, and feels that writing a good letter is a lost art. I really don't think that money is very important to him.
When I visit him I bring him a few Miller beers. Not the light ones. Miller. It's what he drinks. But just a few. Nothing crazy.
And I ask him training questions and advice.
One time, my former assistant Brett Crossland had a question about high pulls. Starr took him into the bedroom and was extolling the benefits of the exercise. "Throw the weight over your head!" , Starr said, and Brett put it through the ceiling. But Starr just said, "That's alright." He was all fired up. The man loves the high pull.
I will go a long way for a good story and I am in awe when Starr begins to talk of the old days. Man! I almost forgot. He worked for Weider back in the early days. When Arnold first arrived in California. Arnold and Franco and Weider and all of those guys from those times.
I cherish my visits with him. Once we walked across the street and ate the best Cream of Crab soup around and drank a few Millers and talked training. Another time, I went with him for his daily walk and peppered him with questions. He doesn't change his schedule. You just go with the flow.
He loves Willie Nelson and Seinfeld. He believes in hard, gut busting work. And he is beyond caring what people think about him or his opinions. He is giving as hell, and I rarely leave without him giving me a magazine with an article in it that he has written or a signed copy of one of his books.
Bill Starr! A helluva man and a great coach. I am proud to know him.
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Try This!
Death Dealer Workout
These training sessions will challenge you both mentally and physically, asking you to push through the pain barrier in every session.
Make sure that you are in decent shape both cardiovascularly and strength-wise before you begin.
I’m going to write this in 3, 2-week parts.
Some of these lifts call for percentages. It’s no big deal. If it calls for 80% and you bench 400, you have to put 320 on the bar. When percentages aren’t called for, go as heavy as you can with good form.
Again, proceed at your own risk. This is not for the faint of heart.
Week 1
Day 1
Warm up:
3x1min mountain climbers with a 30sec rest.
3x30sec frog jumps with a 30sec rest (use a wide stance, jump as high as you can, touch the ground and immediately jump again)
Squat—use % of your 1 rep max
50x8, 60x6, 65 9x3, 50x15
between each set, perform 10-15 push-ups
5x20 sprawls—Touching your hips to the ground and standing up quickly.
Heavy Bag punches with light gloves. Start off with work gloves and hit the heavy bag for 3, 3-minute rounds with a 1-minute rest. Make sure to move around the bag. Act like you are fighting. Throw perfect punches and keep your hands up. During the first 30 seconds of the rest period, do as many free hand squats as you can.
Day 2
20, 40-yard sprints with a 30 second rest in between. These sprints should be done with around 80% intensity.
Day 3
Stadium runs OR hill sprints for 30 minutes. Sprint up, walk down.
Bench Press 60x6, 70x5, 75 7x3
DB Push press as heavy as you can 6x5, then drop 10-15 pounds and do 1x10
Day 4
½ mile run. Sprint for 100 steps, jog for 100 steps.
Day 5
20, 10-yard sprints at 75% intensity with a 30 second rest
Deadlift 60x5, 70x5, 80x5, 50x15
Chin ups 5x6-15 reps
Barbell curls 5x6-12
5x30 yard bear crawls with 30-second rest
Day 6
20 short gassers
Sprint 5 yards
Backpedal 5 yards
Sprint 10 yards, backpedal 5 yards
Sprint 20 yards, backpedal 5 yards
Sprint 30 yards, backpedal 5 yards, then sprint through.
You are ALWAYS only backpedaling 5 yards.
Day 7
Build a shelter and prepare for war.
Week 2
Day 1
3x1minute burpees with a 30second rest
Squat 50x10, 60x8, 70 2x2, 75 7x2
In between sets of squats do 10 push ups
Prowler or car or truck pushes. 10 sets of this means 50 steps. Push with resistance as hard as you can for 50 steps. Use enough resistance that you can barely run.
Day 2
Go to a field with a med ball. Throw the ball as far as you can then chase after it. Try to get to the ball before it stops rolling. Do this for 12 throws/sprints. Then 3, 2-minute rounds with 1-minute rest of heavy bag work
Day 3
3x10 tuck jumps (jump up, bring you knees to your chest immediately upon landing)
Bench press 60x6, 70x5, 80x4, 85 3x2, 60x15-20
DB push press—as heavy as you can—7x3, then drop 15-20 pounds and do a set of 10
30-minute hills or stadium runs. Sprint up, jog down.
Day 4
1 mile run—sprint for 100 steps, jog 100 steps—for one mile
Day 5
5x30 seconds mountain climbers with a 30 second break
Deadlift from a rack—set the rack right below your knees. 10 sets of 2 reps, working up to a heavy double. Bleed from your ears. NO straps
One arm row 3x6, 2x20
Barbell curls—heave these a little at the start 5x6, 2x15
10x30 yard bear crawls with 30-second rest
Day 6
Long gassers
Sprint 10 yards, touch a line and sprint back 10 yards
Sprint 20 yards, touch a line and sprint back 20 yards
Sprint 30 yards, touch a line and sprint back 30 yards
Sprint 40 yards, touch a line and sprint back 40 yards
Take a 2-minute break and do this 4 more times.
Day 7
Build a fire, then pillage the village.
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Stories With Johnny
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Simple Times And The Night
I have always thought that the night has come on very fast. That the day is just this thing there that you try to squeeze everything in really tight and really fast and you try to do all that you need to do, get it in, all of the important stuff.
And then all of a sudden it comes on, the night. And when you are young, it is an exciting time, but as you grow older, the night is just it, the end of the day.
Strange how it changes as the years go on. When I worked at one University, and I was in my twenties , I used to walk across campus very late at night, with my faithful companion, Dutch. He was easily my best friend. And although I had a girlfriend at the time, she had already graduated and I was coaching and it took me so very long to graduate. And Dutch was a Black Labrador and one of the very best of all time. He had quite a personality and he loved me for sure. I loved him also.
So we would walk across campus. It must have been midnight, back when sleep was not much of a priority at all. To go on three or four hours of sleep at that age was no big deal. And Dutch would be off of the leash and he would start sniffing stuff and I would keep walking. And he would let me get ahead for awhile and then I would say his name and he would sprint full speed to me. It was all part of the game. And then we would get the the football field house.
We would go into the bathroom, and I would get Dutch some water in a small bowl and then we would go into the weight room. I had the whole place to myself. And Dutch would lie in the corner and watch my every move. I would lift weights and look in the mirror and flex, and goddam it was so much fun.
After an hour or so of me lifting, all the while between sets sitting on a bench and calling Dutch over to me while I sat, and me talking baby talk to him and petting him and talking out problems with him. I would do set after set and then I'd eventually finish and we would head back, head back the same way that we came, through the campus.
I was in charge of the maintenance of the fields, both practice and game fields. So Dutch and I would stop and water the fields. I would put in the sprinkler heads (they were not automatic) and we would stay another thirty minutes or so, and Dutch would stick his head into the small puddle created by the sprinkler, right at the base. And I would laugh, damn I would laugh out loud, and then sometimes, a few ducks would come and land and Dutch would chase them and come so close to catching them.
It was summer then, a very good time, and I was very, very young. Coaching, barely sleeping, writing some, but learning and learning. No internet, just books and experimenting. All learning took place at the squat rack or on the field. I would not change that for all the money in the world. That is the true way to learn, I think.
But you really didn't know that when you were doing these things, in the formative years, that it was special or that you would look back on those days and say ,man, it was so great. You just did things.
And now you look back on it with melancholy and a slight more sadness than even that and a yearning for those simple times. Because you forget the problems of the lack of funds and the wondering of where life would lead you. It is fun though, to push any problems away that you know where around back then into the back of your mind and just remember you and Dutch, walking across campus at midnight.
And then all of a sudden it comes on, the night. And when you are young, it is an exciting time, but as you grow older, the night is just it, the end of the day.
Strange how it changes as the years go on. When I worked at one University, and I was in my twenties , I used to walk across campus very late at night, with my faithful companion, Dutch. He was easily my best friend. And although I had a girlfriend at the time, she had already graduated and I was coaching and it took me so very long to graduate. And Dutch was a Black Labrador and one of the very best of all time. He had quite a personality and he loved me for sure. I loved him also.
So we would walk across campus. It must have been midnight, back when sleep was not much of a priority at all. To go on three or four hours of sleep at that age was no big deal. And Dutch would be off of the leash and he would start sniffing stuff and I would keep walking. And he would let me get ahead for awhile and then I would say his name and he would sprint full speed to me. It was all part of the game. And then we would get the the football field house.
We would go into the bathroom, and I would get Dutch some water in a small bowl and then we would go into the weight room. I had the whole place to myself. And Dutch would lie in the corner and watch my every move. I would lift weights and look in the mirror and flex, and goddam it was so much fun.
After an hour or so of me lifting, all the while between sets sitting on a bench and calling Dutch over to me while I sat, and me talking baby talk to him and petting him and talking out problems with him. I would do set after set and then I'd eventually finish and we would head back, head back the same way that we came, through the campus.
I was in charge of the maintenance of the fields, both practice and game fields. So Dutch and I would stop and water the fields. I would put in the sprinkler heads (they were not automatic) and we would stay another thirty minutes or so, and Dutch would stick his head into the small puddle created by the sprinkler, right at the base. And I would laugh, damn I would laugh out loud, and then sometimes, a few ducks would come and land and Dutch would chase them and come so close to catching them.
It was summer then, a very good time, and I was very, very young. Coaching, barely sleeping, writing some, but learning and learning. No internet, just books and experimenting. All learning took place at the squat rack or on the field. I would not change that for all the money in the world. That is the true way to learn, I think.
But you really didn't know that when you were doing these things, in the formative years, that it was special or that you would look back on those days and say ,man, it was so great. You just did things.
And now you look back on it with melancholy and a slight more sadness than even that and a yearning for those simple times. Because you forget the problems of the lack of funds and the wondering of where life would lead you. It is fun though, to push any problems away that you know where around back then into the back of your mind and just remember you and Dutch, walking across campus at midnight.
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Ask Cristi, Ask Steel
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Stuff to Ponder: 10 Things I Have Learned
- To get really strong, don't go to failure.
- Barbell rows are great for thickness and for deadlift assistance.
- Keep the sets high and the reps low for the Olympic lifts.
- You can clean 80% and above everyday.
- Don't feel guilty about short workouts.
- Treat your training time as a sacred time. No texting. No talking about stuff not pertaining to lifting.
- Dumbells are excellent for hypertrophy as are squeezing and controlled eccentrics.
- Take time during the year (as a powerlifter) to stay away from the squat, bench and deadlift. Perform variants of those exercises such as the safety squat, close grip bench, and change your deadlift stance from conventional to sumo, or sumo to conventional.
- Don't ever think that there is a magic supplement to get you big and strong. Real food is best. And hard work.
- Study the OLD Timers such as Draper, The York Gang, Gironda (way ahead of his time), Rick Wayne, Arthur Jones, Rheo Blair, Jack Lalanne.
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Weights for Change
I am always surprised when I meet people who do not lift weights. I will probably never understand how folks know that there are tools out there (barbells and dumbbells) that will get you stronger, but they choose not to get stronger. And it is just that, nothing but a choice.
Anyone can get stronger. One of my good friends is in his 40's and squatted a new personal best today, and came into my office and told me that he was stronger now than anytime in his life.
He is a changed man. And what does he do in the weight room? Squats, Deadlifts, Benches, dips. He is not concerned with looks( although he has gained muscle), he is concerned with being stronger. It has now become a lifestyle for him, something that he does at lunch time three times a week. He also told me that he feels awful when he does not get his training in each week.
You see, the difference is, he gave it a shot. A legitimate shot. He didn't question what my staff and I told him to do in the weight room, he just listened and then did it. He has added some biking for cardio and he runs some hills sometimes, but the foundation of the program are his weight workouts.
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And it got me thinking. Why would anyone not train with weights? All you have to do is squat, bench, press, and deadlift a few times a week, and your life will actually change more than you could ever imagine. Daily tasks will be easier, you will look and feel better.
And you don't have to kill yourself in the weight room. In fact, it is actually counterproductive when attempting to get stronger to work to failure. Always leave a few reps in the tank, and then make some progress each time you go in there. And little by little, it will become a habit and you won't be able to live without it.
Anyone can get stronger. One of my good friends is in his 40's and squatted a new personal best today, and came into my office and told me that he was stronger now than anytime in his life.
He is a changed man. And what does he do in the weight room? Squats, Deadlifts, Benches, dips. He is not concerned with looks( although he has gained muscle), he is concerned with being stronger. It has now become a lifestyle for him, something that he does at lunch time three times a week. He also told me that he feels awful when he does not get his training in each week.
You see, the difference is, he gave it a shot. A legitimate shot. He didn't question what my staff and I told him to do in the weight room, he just listened and then did it. He has added some biking for cardio and he runs some hills sometimes, but the foundation of the program are his weight workouts.
And it got me thinking. Why would anyone not train with weights? All you have to do is squat, bench, press, and deadlift a few times a week, and your life will actually change more than you could ever imagine. Daily tasks will be easier, you will look and feel better.
And you don't have to kill yourself in the weight room. In fact, it is actually counterproductive when attempting to get stronger to work to failure. Always leave a few reps in the tank, and then make some progress each time you go in there. And little by little, it will become a habit and you won't be able to live without it.
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A Trip To Remember
" It concerns me that your idea of freedom is being able to walk outside and piss whereveryou want." - my friend Larry to me the other day.
I definitely grew up in the suburbs, outside of Washington, DC, and about 20 miles from Baltimore, Maryland, but I was fortunate enough to have access to at least a hundred acres of woods behind my house. Within these woods was a natural trout steam, and this stream also contained bluegill, suckers, snapping turtles, and various types of snakes. Also the woods contained deer, raccoon, fox, etc. I spent many days down there swimming and fishing, and I did all of my running for football in both high school and college in those woods, performing a cross-country/sprinting/hill training all in each session.
And in the summer my family and I went to Ocean City, Maryland and fished for flounder.
When I entered college, I got hooked on bass fishing in North Carolina and grew to love it. In the summertime, back home in Maryland, I would fish everyday, waking up at 3:30 AM and pounding coffee before heading to farm ponds or reservoirs.
I came into hunting later in life, in college. I started when I bought my first Labrador Retriever, but it is easily my favorite activity. A perfect day would be to wake up before sunrise, perform some squats and then go duck hunting with my Labs.
Growing up doing all of these activities, I just learned how to do stuff: How to bait a hook, what bait to use for each species of fish, where to cross a creek at the right place, how to chop wood, build a garden, navigate trails. I thought that everyone knew how to do those things, and I was just lucky to have my father teach me about these things, and to recognize the importance of the outdoors in a boy's life.
Now I live in the suburbs again, and I am far away from any woods that are worth a damn. Here ponds and lakes are filled with litter and pollution and there are too many people around, irritating me. I bolt to my buddy Steve's farm in Maryland whenever I can. Those brief respites save me from serious depression brought on by too many people and pollution. That kind of stuff changes you, and I get angry at the closeness of everything.
Given my citified life now, when I was given the opportunity to take my seven year old son to a cabin on the Eastern Shore of Maryland a few weeks ago, I jumped at the chance. I firmly believe that a kid should be well rounded; well read but should know how to handle himself in the outdoors.
The cabin is owned by my sister's boyfriend and he told my sister that I was welcome to go down there anytime that I wanted. He didn't have to say it twice. I have always loved that part of Maryland. It is different there, with the wildlife and the farms and the the creeks and rivers.
So James and I took off early one morning and in a few hours, we arrived.
To get to the cabin, you must open two locked gates and drive down a narrow dirt road. When we first drove in, I noticed a small pond sitting on the left. Being a duck hunter, I always look for birds when I see a body of water. I am guessing that six or seven wood ducks flew out of the small body of water as we drove by. My heart raced. This cabin turned out to be a paradise for us. It sits on 22 acres of woods with a river flowing out in front of it, literally 20 yards from the front porch. The cabin was a huge man cave complete with bones of animals prominently displayed, and antlers and plastic snakes and whiskey bottles on the shelves. It had one bedroom upstairs , and had a small kitchen and living room and a screened in porch downstairs. There were pines surrounding it, and the ground was covered with pine needles.
We walked to the river and started to fish immediately. I had stopped at The new Cabelas in Delaware on our way and bought night crawlers. We went to the river and it was high tide. I swear, for a solid hour, we either got a bite or caught a fish on every cast. Now that is the way to get a kid to love fishing. The fish were bluegill and had some fight to them and I believe that one was around a pound or so. It was so damn perfect, catching fish and watching the wildlife and literally not seeing one other person for hours.
After some retrieving work with the dogs, we drove around 20 minutes to a seafood restaurant that sat right on the Choptank River. This place had an amazing view, with boats on the docks and a truly scenic river. Maryland crabs were selling for 55 dollars for 12 mediums, so I passed and settled on the soft shell crabs. James thought that he wanted them also, but when he took a bite, they were definitely not his cup of tea. I don't think that he knew that you had to eat the whole crab. The crab's eyes where staring up at him and he was a little freaked out, I think.
Back at the cabin, it was now dark and James and the dogs and I sat on the front porch and listened to the geese, herons, ducks and crickets. We couldn't hear a car or truck or another person talking.
The next day, I woke up and did 200 kettle bell swings in the yard. I had to get those in or I wouldn't be able to enjoy the day. And then we made a trip to a Walmart about 20 miles away to buy a new rod for James before we went to the river. Nothing was biting. We then went to a lake to fish. We literally had about a 20 acre lake all to ourselves. This place was unreal, a crystal clear quarry with white sand beaches. James caught his first bass, and by this time he was learning how to bait a hook and cast without getting tangled in a tree.
We had so much fun, just being outside. Not seeing anyone else, no traffic, no worries. To see my son get so excited when he saw that bobber start to go under the surface was priceless. And I was getting as excited as he was every time that it happened.
I did a few more swings when we got back to the cabin, and then we trained the dogs, and I was shooting the shotgun as we did some retrieving drills. You can not do that in the suburbs, for sure.
As night fell we drove to the closest town and had a steak and some fries.
The next morning we woke up early. A few retrieves with the dogs and we were off. I had to get back to Philly for work. We both hated to leave. It was truly a magical few days for us.
These type of trips are important, I think. It is fine to have the suburbs , the city, and Little League. But just as important is to start a connection with the the outdoors, to begin learning the skills to pass on to your kids from generation to generation. With everyone panicking about the absence of "real men" and the drugging of our kids and the video games and all of that stuff, maybe one of the answers to their well being is to get outside and learn the ways of the woods and water.
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All Too Much
I love the old days. I am definitely one of those people that yearn for simpler times. No , not with medicine or your favorite social issue. I get it.
My frustration lies with all the STUFF that we are saddled with today that somehow, we can not, or we are convinced that we can not, live without.
My buddy John was in the office the other day and every few minutes he would get a text on his phone or it would ring and he would get more and more frustrated at the phone. "I hate this damn thing!", he said in frustration. "What ever happened to talking to someone face to face?"
I dunno. Before cell phones, I used to go a whole day and never talk on the phone. Growing up, there was a time when we only had one car as a family, and my Dad would get dropped off for work in the morning and he would simply say to my Mom, "I'll meet you outside of my office at five", and there he'd be standing at five oclock. I don't know what would have happened if we hit traffic. I guess that he just would have waited. Or if he was going to be late, we would have waited. No big deal.
I turn the GPS on my phone to go five miles now. I am useless. I look at my phone at red lights. My son tells me when it turns green. Stupid and useless. Of course, my Dad doesn't have a cell phone. Or computer for that matter. He seems less stressed out than anyone else that I know.
I have a Kindle. I like the convenience of it. But its not the same as having that book in your hands. A real book. I still buy the real books, sometimes after already having it on Kindle. I am weird like that sometimes. But there is something about holding that book in your hands.
I laugh when my son tells me that there is nothing on the television. We have four thousand channels. We had four growing up- NBC, ABC, CBS and Channel Five. And it was in black and white for years. I am old, man.
Social media. Every lift everyone does is posted somewhwere. And your status. I am on Facebook. I did it for my business initially. I post pics of my dogs and hunting and stuff. I feel weird doing it. And then, of course, you have to be so careful what you say, what you write, who might get offended. Better off just staying off of it. Everything can bite you in the ass. Oops, I said ass.
I use the computer for sure. I write on it. I watch movies. Its fine. But now I take my laptop when I travel. Too much. Falling into the trap , not communicating for real, not talking face to face, not being in the present with the people in the room. Being there, not somewhere else.
And forget sports. I loved football in the seventies. Guys stayed with teams their whole careers. You related to them. Staubach was the Cowboys quarterback, Bradshaw was the Steeler's quaterback. And that was it. And you can't blame the players, but it was better. And the NFL Today came on and then the NBC thing came on and there were two games.
And another thing that was cool was how guys went home for the offseason. They trained at home. I don't know how they did it without a Performance Team following them around and how they did it without getting paid to work out. Of course I love the Randy White workout plan that he told me about when I interviewed him for Startingstrength.com.
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Randy
He lifted in his barn, did sprints on the dirt roads and ran in the cornfields. And he had a Rottweiler named Deacon who stayed with him. That is damn appealing to me. I don't know how he was so good working out on his own. And Mike Webster lifted in the basement of a bar. He wasn't any good either. Maybe getting away like that was good for the players. Seems like there are a lot more injuries these days. And don't forget that you need a nutritionist. Too hard to figure out how to eat fruits, vegetables and meat. And be disciplined.
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Riggins
I can go on forever, but I have to go train. I'm gonna go down into the air conditioned weight room with rubber plates and squat. And then I'm gonna go home and look outside and wish that I had some wood to chop but I don't have any wood because I don't even have a fireplace like I had growing up. So I'll put on this show that I saved with John Riggins on it and he is chopping wood. And I'll wish that I was right there with him. And then I will find him on Facebook and "friend" him.
My frustration lies with all the STUFF that we are saddled with today that somehow, we can not, or we are convinced that we can not, live without.
My buddy John was in the office the other day and every few minutes he would get a text on his phone or it would ring and he would get more and more frustrated at the phone. "I hate this damn thing!", he said in frustration. "What ever happened to talking to someone face to face?"
I dunno. Before cell phones, I used to go a whole day and never talk on the phone. Growing up, there was a time when we only had one car as a family, and my Dad would get dropped off for work in the morning and he would simply say to my Mom, "I'll meet you outside of my office at five", and there he'd be standing at five oclock. I don't know what would have happened if we hit traffic. I guess that he just would have waited. Or if he was going to be late, we would have waited. No big deal.
I turn the GPS on my phone to go five miles now. I am useless. I look at my phone at red lights. My son tells me when it turns green. Stupid and useless. Of course, my Dad doesn't have a cell phone. Or computer for that matter. He seems less stressed out than anyone else that I know.
I have a Kindle. I like the convenience of it. But its not the same as having that book in your hands. A real book. I still buy the real books, sometimes after already having it on Kindle. I am weird like that sometimes. But there is something about holding that book in your hands.
I laugh when my son tells me that there is nothing on the television. We have four thousand channels. We had four growing up- NBC, ABC, CBS and Channel Five. And it was in black and white for years. I am old, man.
Social media. Every lift everyone does is posted somewhwere. And your status. I am on Facebook. I did it for my business initially. I post pics of my dogs and hunting and stuff. I feel weird doing it. And then, of course, you have to be so careful what you say, what you write, who might get offended. Better off just staying off of it. Everything can bite you in the ass. Oops, I said ass.
I use the computer for sure. I write on it. I watch movies. Its fine. But now I take my laptop when I travel. Too much. Falling into the trap , not communicating for real, not talking face to face, not being in the present with the people in the room. Being there, not somewhere else.
And forget sports. I loved football in the seventies. Guys stayed with teams their whole careers. You related to them. Staubach was the Cowboys quarterback, Bradshaw was the Steeler's quaterback. And that was it. And you can't blame the players, but it was better. And the NFL Today came on and then the NBC thing came on and there were two games.
And another thing that was cool was how guys went home for the offseason. They trained at home. I don't know how they did it without a Performance Team following them around and how they did it without getting paid to work out. Of course I love the Randy White workout plan that he told me about when I interviewed him for Startingstrength.com.
He lifted in his barn, did sprints on the dirt roads and ran in the cornfields. And he had a Rottweiler named Deacon who stayed with him. That is damn appealing to me. I don't know how he was so good working out on his own. And Mike Webster lifted in the basement of a bar. He wasn't any good either. Maybe getting away like that was good for the players. Seems like there are a lot more injuries these days. And don't forget that you need a nutritionist. Too hard to figure out how to eat fruits, vegetables and meat. And be disciplined.
I can go on forever, but I have to go train. I'm gonna go down into the air conditioned weight room with rubber plates and squat. And then I'm gonna go home and look outside and wish that I had some wood to chop but I don't have any wood because I don't even have a fireplace like I had growing up. So I'll put on this show that I saved with John Riggins on it and he is chopping wood. And I'll wish that I was right there with him. And then I will find him on Facebook and "friend" him.
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Bas Barbell's Gym in the Front/Bar in the Back Rules and Regulations
This is a column from 2012. I made some changes, and I will probably continue to add /subtract rules as time goes on.
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Some hard and fast rules for Bas Barbell's Gym in the Front/Bar in theBack
1. Squat deep
2. Chalk must be used
3. No Velcro belts
4. Honorary president- Ronnie Van Zant
5. No backpacks unless they are camo and have a canteen
6. You must Deadlift a certain minimum weight to give advice to anyone- 700 for men, 405 for women
7. Don't say can't
8. No false chatter, no cheering of any sort,
9. No shaking of protein shakes for more that 10 seconds, 5 seconds is preferred
10. No clapping, No celebrating of any kind. The less words the better.
11. No machines
12. No stretching
13. No phones except the payphone on the wall
14. Music is decided upon by the strongest person in the gym.
Official War Metal Band- Recluse.
Official Country Band- Hank III
Old Metal Band-Superjoint Ritual
Rap Band- Nobody
15. Maryland flag must be prominently displayed
16. No water bottles. Absolutely none. Drink from the sink.
17. Only beers above 5.2% allowed , official beer is the one Cristi and I drank in NC- Double dog Flying something. It was like 11%. Vodka or Maryland Moonshine or George Dickel is preferred .
18. Only Mason Jars to drink from.
19. Sawdust on the bar floor
20. Jukebox in the corner
21. Arm wrestling station in the corner. Fights are allowed but only in the field out back. No kicking, because Johnny B says only girls kick in his neighborhood. So girls are allowed to kick, I guess.
22. Dogs are allowed and encouraged in the gym and bar area. Big dogs only, Nothing less than fifty pounds.
23. Dropping of dumbells allowed, Dropping of Mason Jars is not allowed
24. Hats on frontwards or backwards, never sideways
25.Outlaw MC gangs encouraged to join
26. Six month trial for all new members, gym members must vote unanimously on the new member
27. Certain folks are grandfathered in- Randy White and any old Baltimore Colts
28. Food on the menu? Maryland Crabs, Steak, burgers, pork roll sandwiches, Old Bay Fries
Some hard and fast rules for Bas Barbell's Gym in the Front/Bar in theBack
1. Squat deep
2. Chalk must be used
3. No Velcro belts
4. Honorary president- Ronnie Van Zant
5. No backpacks unless they are camo and have a canteen
6. You must Deadlift a certain minimum weight to give advice to anyone- 700 for men, 405 for women
7. Don't say can't
8. No false chatter, no cheering of any sort,
9. No shaking of protein shakes for more that 10 seconds, 5 seconds is preferred
10. No clapping, No celebrating of any kind. The less words the better.
11. No machines
12. No stretching
13. No phones except the payphone on the wall
14. Music is decided upon by the strongest person in the gym.
Official War Metal Band- Recluse.
Official Country Band- Hank III
Old Metal Band-Superjoint Ritual
Rap Band- Nobody
15. Maryland flag must be prominently displayed
16. No water bottles. Absolutely none. Drink from the sink.
17. Only beers above 5.2% allowed , official beer is the one Cristi and I drank in NC- Double dog Flying something. It was like 11%. Vodka or Maryland Moonshine or George Dickel is preferred .
18. Only Mason Jars to drink from.
19. Sawdust on the bar floor
20. Jukebox in the corner
21. Arm wrestling station in the corner. Fights are allowed but only in the field out back. No kicking, because Johnny B says only girls kick in his neighborhood. So girls are allowed to kick, I guess.
22. Dogs are allowed and encouraged in the gym and bar area. Big dogs only, Nothing less than fifty pounds.
23. Dropping of dumbells allowed, Dropping of Mason Jars is not allowed
24. Hats on frontwards or backwards, never sideways
25.Outlaw MC gangs encouraged to join
26. Six month trial for all new members, gym members must vote unanimously on the new member
27. Certain folks are grandfathered in- Randy White and any old Baltimore Colts
28. Food on the menu? Maryland Crabs, Steak, burgers, pork roll sandwiches, Old Bay Fries
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1989
In 1989, I dropped out of school. College that is. Yes, I went back and finished, started coaching, got my Master's Degree, all that stuff.
But back then? I was done playing football in college in North Carolina and I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. So I dropped 50 pounds and lifted and ran everyday. I ate rice, tuna and wheat bread. I guess that one could say that I was depressed. Without football in my life, I really felt as though I had nothing. I had been playing since I was in the third grade and that means that when I finished, I had been playing it for 14 years. It was my life, simple as that. And what was fall without football? I had no idea, I could never remember one without football. All year, every year, I had lived it. And now? A huge void.
So I went back to Maryland. I had been away at school for awhile, had been on a full scholarship and now I had dropped out and wasted a semester that was paid for by the school. My parents were not happy. I was not seen as the prodigal son returning. The first thing I did was hook up with my buddy, Chris. Chris had dropped out of his school also. These days he is a big wig at some computer company, but back then? We were two lost souls together. Chris and I were best friends in junior college and had kept in touch. He had been home for awhile and was working at a golf course. He got me a job there and we commenced to riding tractors and cutting the rough and hanging out with guys who were making their living at the place. I actually liked it. I mean I really liked it. It was summertime and we would get to the course just as the sun was coming up and we would start cutting and the dew would still be on the course and I actually saw a pheasant one morning.
I think that we got off at like 2pm everyday. After that, we went right to the gym. I was 21 years old, I was making a little money and I was outdoors all day. Not too bad. And we had a great gym to go to after busting our ass at work.
What was the name of the gym? Ah yes, Iron Works. It was in an industrial park in Beltsville, Maryand, The owner, Neil, had been a thrower at the University of Florida and was a really great guy. He made his own equipment, had a Rottweiller in the gym, and took no shit whatsoever. The fee was 25 dollars a month. No joining fee or contracts or anything. And no air conditioning. I know it ain't Alabama, but the summers get pretty hot in parts of Maryland, so Neil would roll up the outside door and let the breeze come in. After workouts, Chris and I would sit outside and eat. Those workouts were great.
I was coming off of my bodybuilding/weight loss foray, but Chris had discovered powerlifting and was going full force. He was weighing 225 and close gripping 415 and squatting 585 deep as hell and pulling over 600. And he had some legendary intensity. He would find a random guy in the gym before he was going to perform a big lift and start getting nuts. So let's say that he was getting ready to bench press 385x3 and he needed some extra motivation. He would already be frothing at the mouth, by the way. Anyway, he would start saying, " JIM! That guy is talking shit about me!" and I would look around, dumbfounded. Nobody was even glancing in our direction. "Who? Who is talking about you?""That guy at the front desk!" So I looked at the guy at the front desk, talking to Neil. He wasn't looking at us at all, let alone talking about Chris. But Chris was all fired up. "I'm gonna freaking kill him!" And then I would realize what Chris was doing, getting himself fired up, and then he would say "1,2,3, UP!" and I would give him a lift off and he would crush his set. It was a pretty unique way to get fired up, but for him, it worked. It really worked. Oh yeah, I almost forgot. Chris would eat 8 bowls of Raisin Bran for breakfast. Eight bowls. I don't know why he decided on eight bowls, but damn it, he was gonna get those eight bowls in every morning.
As the summer went on, we kept up our schedule. Work, lift, eat. I was getting strong and putting on some good weight.
But one day when Chris and I were weed wacking around a sand trap, the boss came by. The man was an ass, basically. Anyway, we always weed wacked and then cleaned the grass out of the sand trap. We had a system. But the boss man had just pulled up before we had cleaned the sand trap. " I told you! No grass in the sand trap!" Chris tried to explain, but the boss was not listening. "F#%ck this!" Chris yelled, "We are outta here!" "Alright", I said. I felt a lot of loyalty to Chris. After all he had gotten me the job and was teaching me so much about training. So we left the job, even though I really didn't want to leave.
But you know what? The best thing about leaving the job at the golf course was that it forced me to face some tough choices. Did I want to go finish school and coach or did I want to work jobs like the golf course the rest of my life? I actually loved the feeling at the end of the day of really working for a living, but I had wasted so much time and money on school and doing poorly that I decided that the best thing for me to do was to go back.
So I loaded my bag on a bus in DC and took off back to North Carolina. I started coaching then, first as a volunteer and I also finished college. I am glad that I made the choice to go back.
I will however, always look back fondly on the summer of '89.
So I went back to Maryland. I had been away at school for awhile, had been on a full scholarship and now I had dropped out and wasted a semester that was paid for by the school. My parents were not happy. I was not seen as the prodigal son returning. The first thing I did was hook up with my buddy, Chris. Chris had dropped out of his school also. These days he is a big wig at some computer company, but back then? We were two lost souls together. Chris and I were best friends in junior college and had kept in touch. He had been home for awhile and was working at a golf course. He got me a job there and we commenced to riding tractors and cutting the rough and hanging out with guys who were making their living at the place. I actually liked it. I mean I really liked it. It was summertime and we would get to the course just as the sun was coming up and we would start cutting and the dew would still be on the course and I actually saw a pheasant one morning.
I think that we got off at like 2pm everyday. After that, we went right to the gym. I was 21 years old, I was making a little money and I was outdoors all day. Not too bad. And we had a great gym to go to after busting our ass at work.
What was the name of the gym? Ah yes, Iron Works. It was in an industrial park in Beltsville, Maryand, The owner, Neil, had been a thrower at the University of Florida and was a really great guy. He made his own equipment, had a Rottweiller in the gym, and took no shit whatsoever. The fee was 25 dollars a month. No joining fee or contracts or anything. And no air conditioning. I know it ain't Alabama, but the summers get pretty hot in parts of Maryland, so Neil would roll up the outside door and let the breeze come in. After workouts, Chris and I would sit outside and eat. Those workouts were great.
I was coming off of my bodybuilding/weight loss foray, but Chris had discovered powerlifting and was going full force. He was weighing 225 and close gripping 415 and squatting 585 deep as hell and pulling over 600. And he had some legendary intensity. He would find a random guy in the gym before he was going to perform a big lift and start getting nuts. So let's say that he was getting ready to bench press 385x3 and he needed some extra motivation. He would already be frothing at the mouth, by the way. Anyway, he would start saying, " JIM! That guy is talking shit about me!" and I would look around, dumbfounded. Nobody was even glancing in our direction. "Who? Who is talking about you?""That guy at the front desk!" So I looked at the guy at the front desk, talking to Neil. He wasn't looking at us at all, let alone talking about Chris. But Chris was all fired up. "I'm gonna freaking kill him!" And then I would realize what Chris was doing, getting himself fired up, and then he would say "1,2,3, UP!" and I would give him a lift off and he would crush his set. It was a pretty unique way to get fired up, but for him, it worked. It really worked. Oh yeah, I almost forgot. Chris would eat 8 bowls of Raisin Bran for breakfast. Eight bowls. I don't know why he decided on eight bowls, but damn it, he was gonna get those eight bowls in every morning.
As the summer went on, we kept up our schedule. Work, lift, eat. I was getting strong and putting on some good weight.
But one day when Chris and I were weed wacking around a sand trap, the boss came by. The man was an ass, basically. Anyway, we always weed wacked and then cleaned the grass out of the sand trap. We had a system. But the boss man had just pulled up before we had cleaned the sand trap. " I told you! No grass in the sand trap!" Chris tried to explain, but the boss was not listening. "F#%ck this!" Chris yelled, "We are outta here!" "Alright", I said. I felt a lot of loyalty to Chris. After all he had gotten me the job and was teaching me so much about training. So we left the job, even though I really didn't want to leave.
But you know what? The best thing about leaving the job at the golf course was that it forced me to face some tough choices. Did I want to go finish school and coach or did I want to work jobs like the golf course the rest of my life? I actually loved the feeling at the end of the day of really working for a living, but I had wasted so much time and money on school and doing poorly that I decided that the best thing for me to do was to go back.
So I loaded my bag on a bus in DC and took off back to North Carolina. I started coaching then, first as a volunteer and I also finished college. I am glad that I made the choice to go back.
I will however, always look back fondly on the summer of '89.
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Keep Going
I know that one of my faults is that I don't understand those that aren't motivated to train.
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Oh, it's Monday? It's squat day. It is as simple as that, and it just goes on, year after year. I can be feeling like death warmed over and I will train. And I am nothing special. I had some decent numbers in my best lifts in competition (820 squat 505 bench 740 deadlift), but I was not even remotely strong when I started out. My friends were stronger than me on the high school football team. I just liked it more than them, and I never stopped training.
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I was and still am consistent as hell. Meaning that I'm gonna go to the gym and I am gonna do something. Low back screwed up? Set a new record in dips. Shoulder throbbing? Time to deadlift. And its not hard to figure out. Focus on what you can do and it will all come around. Surgery? Surgeries? Who cares? It will happen to you if you train over the years. But in the meantime, your quality of life will be so much greater by training.
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I guess that my urge is some type of an obsession. It's this weird feeling that gnaws at me in the back of my head somewhere that will not let me enjoy anything else unless I have exercised. It's like someone is tapping me on my shoulder saying, train, train, train.
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Do I always feel like training? Nope. But it is past the point of wanting to, it is needing to train. If I do not train, I feel useless and soft, and not in touch with a damn thing. Then I am just there, and I become one of the many. When you train hard, you are one of the few. I have just kept at it. I do not always love it. I woke up today and I did the bike for thirty minutes and then I did ten sets of triceps and ten sets of biceps. I got a great pump and halfway through the workout I started to feel fantastic. But at the beginning? I forced myself, and because I have been training so long, I knew that feeling would come.
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So what am I saying? Just train and keep training and you will feel great somedays and like crap somedays but no matter what, you must keep at it, no excuses, just train, you must, through pain and divorces and deaths and hospital visits, you must keep going. Take that time for yourself. And never let anyone tell you that it is stupid or that you are selfish . Because it is for you- being strong and in shape- and it has become part of you. It doesn't matter if not one damn person in the world understands it. They do not have to. It is what you must do to stay whole and grounded. Keep going.
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It has been such a huge part of my life (since 1979) that it is literally like brushing my teeth for me.
Oh, it's Monday? It's squat day. It is as simple as that, and it just goes on, year after year. I can be feeling like death warmed over and I will train. And I am nothing special. I had some decent numbers in my best lifts in competition (820 squat 505 bench 740 deadlift), but I was not even remotely strong when I started out. My friends were stronger than me on the high school football team. I just liked it more than them, and I never stopped training.
I was and still am consistent as hell. Meaning that I'm gonna go to the gym and I am gonna do something. Low back screwed up? Set a new record in dips. Shoulder throbbing? Time to deadlift. And its not hard to figure out. Focus on what you can do and it will all come around. Surgery? Surgeries? Who cares? It will happen to you if you train over the years. But in the meantime, your quality of life will be so much greater by training.
I guess that my urge is some type of an obsession. It's this weird feeling that gnaws at me in the back of my head somewhere that will not let me enjoy anything else unless I have exercised. It's like someone is tapping me on my shoulder saying, train, train, train.
Do I always feel like training? Nope. But it is past the point of wanting to, it is needing to train. If I do not train, I feel useless and soft, and not in touch with a damn thing. Then I am just there, and I become one of the many. When you train hard, you are one of the few. I have just kept at it. I do not always love it. I woke up today and I did the bike for thirty minutes and then I did ten sets of triceps and ten sets of biceps. I got a great pump and halfway through the workout I started to feel fantastic. But at the beginning? I forced myself, and because I have been training so long, I knew that feeling would come.
So what am I saying? Just train and keep training and you will feel great somedays and like crap somedays but no matter what, you must keep at it, no excuses, just train, you must, through pain and divorces and deaths and hospital visits, you must keep going. Take that time for yourself. And never let anyone tell you that it is stupid or that you are selfish . Because it is for you- being strong and in shape- and it has become part of you. It doesn't matter if not one damn person in the world understands it. They do not have to. It is what you must do to stay whole and grounded. Keep going.
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Love More
My sister, Jane, passed away the other day.
My big sister. Three years older than me. She always took care of me, her baby brother.
My heart is beating out of my chest as I write this, but I'm gonna finish.
Freakin' cancer is an awful, awful thing. And seeing what it does to a person, slowly crushing them, is tough to take. At one point, the cancer was gone, and then it came back and even Johns Hopkins eventually said, hey, there is nothing else that we can do. How about that? What would you do? What would anybody do? What would my 81 year old parent's do?
You wanna fight?
You can fight. But then fluid is filling up your lungs daily and your body is betraying you and you can not breath, it is this fluid choking you, sucking the life out of you. My dad spent days and nights just draining that fluid out of her lungs. His daughter, right in front of his eyes. Every day. Suck out a little more fluid: 200 cc, 400cc, 600 cc. Yep. And you know, you just know what is really happening. It is something that you try to deny but it is right there.
What can I do? I ask. And he says, nothing, it is what I signed up for.
And I say, what about a hospital? And he says, Jim, she is my daughter, I can not leave her. I signed up for this. And then she calls to him late at night because she can't breath, and he is there for her as he as always been. He is her father, her rock, all that she has ever really depended on when things got real bad. And she hasn't made much sense recently but she did right then, when she said that she needed to go the hospital. And he calls 911 and they get there fast. And then there is the ambulance ride and the hospital. And they work on her and work on her but it isn't gonna happen. And then they say, hey, should we keep trying? And then the 81 year old dad says no, but he says to her- Jane, I love you and your mother loves you and Jim loves you and the kids love you. And dad hopes that she heard him. And then that is that.
And I get the phone call late that night and I hear my dad's voice and I feel his pain and I go into my mom's room and tell her. We were on vacation and my dad stayed back with my sister. I wake her and she says okay, and then she packs her things and I carry her suitcase out the car and then she drives two and a half hours back over the Chesapeake Bay Bridge at daybreak because that is just what she does, what she signed up for as a mother. So strong. Their attitude has always been so let's get it done, this is what this brings, this life. And they both have been through being kids during World War II and my grandfather getting torpedoed during the war and heart disease and friends dying and sick grandkids and plenty of deaths and tragedies and guess what? You have to move and keep moving.
What else can you do? What is your other choice?
I don't know what else you can do. I just know that there are very few carefree times in life, and very few people that you truly, really love and care about. And I know that you should appreciate them more and hug them more and forgive them more and look them in their eyes more and just listen more. Because the bad times come and they keep coming no matter what and they are interspersed with some very few great times. But those great times? Cherish every second.
Focus intently on them and hold those times real tight. I think that it takes some sitting back and breathing real deep and asking, okay, what is important? Who is important? And here is my life and here is what I love and need to love even more. I don't know. I really don't know.
Just keep moving and loving and grit your teeth over and over the bad times. Bite down on your mouthpiece and stand up yet again on weakened legs and shake your fist at the cruelty and the injustice and the lack of fairness and then accept it and then? Love even harder.
My big sister. Three years older than me. She always took care of me, her baby brother.
My heart is beating out of my chest as I write this, but I'm gonna finish.
Freakin' cancer is an awful, awful thing. And seeing what it does to a person, slowly crushing them, is tough to take. At one point, the cancer was gone, and then it came back and even Johns Hopkins eventually said, hey, there is nothing else that we can do. How about that? What would you do? What would anybody do? What would my 81 year old parent's do?
You wanna fight?
You can fight. But then fluid is filling up your lungs daily and your body is betraying you and you can not breath, it is this fluid choking you, sucking the life out of you. My dad spent days and nights just draining that fluid out of her lungs. His daughter, right in front of his eyes. Every day. Suck out a little more fluid: 200 cc, 400cc, 600 cc. Yep. And you know, you just know what is really happening. It is something that you try to deny but it is right there.
What can I do? I ask. And he says, nothing, it is what I signed up for.
And I say, what about a hospital? And he says, Jim, she is my daughter, I can not leave her. I signed up for this. And then she calls to him late at night because she can't breath, and he is there for her as he as always been. He is her father, her rock, all that she has ever really depended on when things got real bad. And she hasn't made much sense recently but she did right then, when she said that she needed to go the hospital. And he calls 911 and they get there fast. And then there is the ambulance ride and the hospital. And they work on her and work on her but it isn't gonna happen. And then they say, hey, should we keep trying? And then the 81 year old dad says no, but he says to her- Jane, I love you and your mother loves you and Jim loves you and the kids love you. And dad hopes that she heard him. And then that is that.
And I get the phone call late that night and I hear my dad's voice and I feel his pain and I go into my mom's room and tell her. We were on vacation and my dad stayed back with my sister. I wake her and she says okay, and then she packs her things and I carry her suitcase out the car and then she drives two and a half hours back over the Chesapeake Bay Bridge at daybreak because that is just what she does, what she signed up for as a mother. So strong. Their attitude has always been so let's get it done, this is what this brings, this life. And they both have been through being kids during World War II and my grandfather getting torpedoed during the war and heart disease and friends dying and sick grandkids and plenty of deaths and tragedies and guess what? You have to move and keep moving.
What else can you do? What is your other choice?
I don't know what else you can do. I just know that there are very few carefree times in life, and very few people that you truly, really love and care about. And I know that you should appreciate them more and hug them more and forgive them more and look them in their eyes more and just listen more. Because the bad times come and they keep coming no matter what and they are interspersed with some very few great times. But those great times? Cherish every second.
Focus intently on them and hold those times real tight. I think that it takes some sitting back and breathing real deep and asking, okay, what is important? Who is important? And here is my life and here is what I love and need to love even more. I don't know. I really don't know.
Just keep moving and loving and grit your teeth over and over the bad times. Bite down on your mouthpiece and stand up yet again on weakened legs and shake your fist at the cruelty and the injustice and the lack of fairness and then accept it and then? Love even harder.
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Thoughts
I have to write something to get the last column off of the page because it is depressing.
I am infatuated with the Safety Squat bar and the effectiveness of it for quad development and for less low back involvement. I have been using it for many, many months and it is outstanding. I purchased it from elitefts.com and recommend it highly.
I have seen everything work when it comes to diet, but most effective seems to be to lose it slowwwwwly, to have patience and then you will keep it off.
Just what purpose do TICKS serve in this world? To piss me off, to spread disease, to suck blood just for the hell of it? And there are more than ever it seems.
Pretty fascinated with time under tension and the effectiveness of short range of motion training for hypertrophy (see Jason Huh). If you notice, most of the top bodybuilders these days don't lock out a damn thing. I know, I know, drugs. Give it a break.
Yoga? Great! But for a football player? As an adjunct, sure, go for it, wonderful. But always ask: Does it get you stronger? More explosive? Are you so inflexible that you can not get into your stance? OH! It's easier than the ear ringing, blood vessel in the eyes popping set of squats or deadlifts that allow you to crush people. Just say that, and we will be fine. It's just honest. It is like distance running. If you never have trained, you will honestly believe that distance running helps you get in shape for football . It's better than nothing. HOWEVER----When you look at training, look at Good, Better, Best (Fred Hatfield) , and decide on what you would best be spending your time on to be GREAT. Or don't. Keep living in a false, social media contrived dream state.
New Judas Priest is out. It's good. It's Priest. Like Old Priest. It's worth buying. Halford can't quite reach the notes that he used to reach, but who cares. He still has tons of heart. Below is a clip from EXACTLY where I grew up and the parking lot before a Priest concert.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FDDnuhbDFeY (copy and paste, I can't figure it out)
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Influencing Hemingway is a very good book. Gone Feral is a very good book. Knockemstiff is still an amazing book. I wish Donald Ray Pollock would come out with something new. He is an outstanding author. Frank Bill is also outstanding. Joe is a very good movie. It is disturbing because of the rabbit costume but it is real as hell.
Bodybuilders know more about nutrition than anyone else. They are in it, and usually years ahead of research.
I met someone VERY famous the other day. And just like some other famous people that I have met, he/she was very self absorbed. And hilarious because of the inflated ego. Least self absorbed celebrity/athlete that I have ever met? Randy White, hands down.
Keep training, keep getting it done, just grab the bar and go. Don't be fooled. Hard always wins.
I am infatuated with the Safety Squat bar and the effectiveness of it for quad development and for less low back involvement. I have been using it for many, many months and it is outstanding. I purchased it from elitefts.com and recommend it highly.
I have seen everything work when it comes to diet, but most effective seems to be to lose it slowwwwwly, to have patience and then you will keep it off.
Just what purpose do TICKS serve in this world? To piss me off, to spread disease, to suck blood just for the hell of it? And there are more than ever it seems.
Pretty fascinated with time under tension and the effectiveness of short range of motion training for hypertrophy (see Jason Huh). If you notice, most of the top bodybuilders these days don't lock out a damn thing. I know, I know, drugs. Give it a break.
Yoga? Great! But for a football player? As an adjunct, sure, go for it, wonderful. But always ask: Does it get you stronger? More explosive? Are you so inflexible that you can not get into your stance? OH! It's easier than the ear ringing, blood vessel in the eyes popping set of squats or deadlifts that allow you to crush people. Just say that, and we will be fine. It's just honest. It is like distance running. If you never have trained, you will honestly believe that distance running helps you get in shape for football . It's better than nothing. HOWEVER----When you look at training, look at Good, Better, Best (Fred Hatfield) , and decide on what you would best be spending your time on to be GREAT. Or don't. Keep living in a false, social media contrived dream state.
New Judas Priest is out. It's good. It's Priest. Like Old Priest. It's worth buying. Halford can't quite reach the notes that he used to reach, but who cares. He still has tons of heart. Below is a clip from EXACTLY where I grew up and the parking lot before a Priest concert.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FDDnuhbDFeY (copy and paste, I can't figure it out)
Influencing Hemingway is a very good book. Gone Feral is a very good book. Knockemstiff is still an amazing book. I wish Donald Ray Pollock would come out with something new. He is an outstanding author. Frank Bill is also outstanding. Joe is a very good movie. It is disturbing because of the rabbit costume but it is real as hell.
Bodybuilders know more about nutrition than anyone else. They are in it, and usually years ahead of research.
I met someone VERY famous the other day. And just like some other famous people that I have met, he/she was very self absorbed. And hilarious because of the inflated ego. Least self absorbed celebrity/athlete that I have ever met? Randy White, hands down.
Keep training, keep getting it done, just grab the bar and go. Don't be fooled. Hard always wins.
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What Is /Isnt Important
Trying to figure out what I think is important in life.
Ok. My kids. I have three boys. And although they drive me nuts at times, I love them dearly, would die for them, kill for them, without a second thought.
My wife. My Mom and Dad. The few friends that I have. Loyal friends who do not judge a damn thing. They listen. Family.
Those folks that really tell the truth . Not a half truth. The whole truth. You mess up? They tell you. And then you work on it. You get better.
My Dogs.
Pride in your heritage. Pride in where you came from.
Hunting and fishing.
Lifting weights. It is a release beyond a release. Something beyond special.
A great book.
A great movie.
Music that moves you.
What isn't important?
Worrying about what other people think about you. I have been around the most disloyal, backstabbingest people in the world in my life.
They should never take a space up in your head. Why? Because you can not change them no matter what you do. They are too dumb. And they only care about themselves. They all get it in the end, anyway.
Scared people and cowards. Those living life kissing butt because they are so scared of losing their job. How can they live with themselves? They are gonna be on their death bed one day and they will have nothing to show for it but lipstick marks on someone else's rear end. Awful, just awful. They should take their nervous ticks and move the hell on.
Politicians and taxes.
Suits and ties and all that is fake to impress. It ain't what you wear, man. It's actions or nothing.
Money that you haven't earned.
Those that think they are better than someone else because of their job or because of their social status. And you are on a power trip because.....? You are NOTHING. We all end up in a pine box or ashes in an urn. You are just a bug on the windshield of life.
And to conclude, here is an awesome song by Danzig, posted on Facebook by Paul Waggener
Ok. My kids. I have three boys. And although they drive me nuts at times, I love them dearly, would die for them, kill for them, without a second thought.
My wife. My Mom and Dad. The few friends that I have. Loyal friends who do not judge a damn thing. They listen. Family.
Those folks that really tell the truth . Not a half truth. The whole truth. You mess up? They tell you. And then you work on it. You get better.
My Dogs.
Pride in your heritage. Pride in where you came from.
Hunting and fishing.
Lifting weights. It is a release beyond a release. Something beyond special.
A great book.
A great movie.
Music that moves you.
What isn't important?
Worrying about what other people think about you. I have been around the most disloyal, backstabbingest people in the world in my life.
They should never take a space up in your head. Why? Because you can not change them no matter what you do. They are too dumb. And they only care about themselves. They all get it in the end, anyway.
Scared people and cowards. Those living life kissing butt because they are so scared of losing their job. How can they live with themselves? They are gonna be on their death bed one day and they will have nothing to show for it but lipstick marks on someone else's rear end. Awful, just awful. They should take their nervous ticks and move the hell on.
Politicians and taxes.
Suits and ties and all that is fake to impress. It ain't what you wear, man. It's actions or nothing.
Money that you haven't earned.
Those that think they are better than someone else because of their job or because of their social status. And you are on a power trip because.....? You are NOTHING. We all end up in a pine box or ashes in an urn. You are just a bug on the windshield of life.
And to conclude, here is an awesome song by Danzig, posted on Facebook by Paul Waggener
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