Sit the fuck down

Let me start off by saying I have a pretty aggressive work ethic in whatever I do.  I my job and training 15-20 minutes before I need to be, I have already started my warm ups before everyone even sets foot in the gym, and I’m usually the first one to finish the work out on virtue of having minuscule resting periods.  I want to move, I don’t want to be stagnant. I have came to work, not to look pretty; that much is obvious.   As much as it seems that I am trying to bolster my ego, and swing my phantom baby-arm in your face, I note it for less obvious reasons: I am super prone to over-training, and injuries because of it.

Being overly ambitious can lead to a wide variety of injuries.  For example, I have rampant tendinitis in both my patellas.  Tendinitis is an interesting circumstance as you should not used the inflamed area at all, even a little bit or at “light” weight.  The simple movement will only inflame the tendinitis even more, and make the process longer to heal.  Obviously, ignorance is admittance; just because I kept telling myself I’m not injured the weeks leading up to ultimate pain and tenderness, doesn't necessarily mean that I am not injured. I was very much injured, and now because I kept going and tried telling myself that I am OK, I am reaping the benefits of constantly icing on my recliner, and catching up on all  the TV shows I’ve missed.

Hell I might even do homework.

All of this might seem like a good ol’ time for anyone else; make no mistake though, I am in hell.  I hate not doing anything, I have pent up energy I can’t use, and now I REALLY have to watch what I eat due to a difference in calories and energy expenditure. You have to look to the ultimate goal to find that motivation.  If I am too injured to keep training properly, then I obviously can’t compete at university nationals, or even make the total, so versus being out for a couple of weeks, and being unable to train right at all for the next few months, I’ll just have to suck it up, and stay off my feet.

Sometimes, just sit the fuck down, and take a breather.  Your body can’t perform if it never has proper time to recover.

Femiliftum part 2

Feminism is a hot topic right now, and you can't look left or right without being lambasted with #heforshe slogans, and gender equality debates.  It's intriguing as it is addictive.  I come from a family where I was the only son, my male counterpart cousins lived in Idaho, or they were too young to relate with; however, my youngest sister, annie, is about my age (two years my junior).  I hate to say I'm an overprotective older brother, but the majority of my fights in high school were almost a direct causation of some dipshit making my little sister cry.  Normal high school drama; calling her a "slut" or "whore" tended to pluck a nerve with me, so I handled it any normal human being with a Napoleon Complex (I was 5'7" and 130lbs) and a lot pent up teenage angst would.  I didn't even like her going to hardcore shows with me, because I'm ostentatiously protective of her; she could care less about my worries, so she went anyways.

I don't like it when someone refers to my siblings in such a way, and I wouldn't use it to describe any other women.  I try not to use the term feminist as a label, not because I don't want to be associated with the "bra burners", or "feminazis".  Both terms are pretty fucking juvenile in my opinion.  A lot of it just comes back to being a decent considerate human being, so I say I'm a feminist.  That means I still have my own opinions on certain topics.  I believe slut shaming is wrong, as I believe that changing the physical standards for an infantry unit to accommodate women is also wrong. 

What?! How can you say that? You misogynist pig.

Now hold on a second.  I'm not against it, because I'm trying to keep women out of some sort national pride or dream they might have.  I'm telling you it's wrong simply because I have witnessed a whole fuck ton of women, surprise me with their physical capabilities.  To me, it sends the wrong message when you alter a system designed to produce an elite fighting force to accommodate someone you think might be weaker, because you want to avoid a public relations nightmare.  That in itself sends the wrong message.  There is a handful of women at my college who possess the level to carry body armor, and wounded companion out of harms way.  There were also several at my old crossfit gym who could do it.  They participated in the Memorial Day, Murph wod (1 mile run then 20 rounds of 5 pullups, 10 pushups, and 15 squats then another mile WITH A WEIGHTED VEST) with pretty admirable numbers.  Some would beat me every goddamn time. 

They can be fucking animals when you let them, which brings me to my next point...

The problem with society for the past couple hundred years, is that women were supposed to be quiet, stay in the house, tend to the children, cook, clean etc.  Women weren't looked at as having the capacity to be considered "strong" or "athletic".  Past 20 years, the paradigm is slowly morphing into making it ok for women to be athletic.  No longer is it a travesty to see women pick up a bar and squat twice their own body weight.  They no longer need the treadmill, and pilates machine to have a cut, petite shape.  Weights and muscle building are the strongest assets, and for once they ignore the anabolic balloon animals that fitness magazines force on them, and accept that it is an illusion. 

You aren't going to balloon up like a body builder.  You can be just as strong and fucking merciless as the men, and still keep the aesthetics if you like.

The problem used to be that everyone paid attention to the TV and magazines, and assumed that the perfect shape for a women was a petite small frame.  Those standards are waning cause of a number of factors, but most importantly, it has become socially acceptable for women to be strong.  Honestly, Crossfit has probably been the biggest contributing factor to that.  Since it's conception and being a pretty much the go-to for fitness clubs, it has given most women an appeal to lift weights.  Hell a number of women from crossfit clubs have been hitting high rankings in Weightlifting alone.  I believe Lauren Fisher finished 3rd for Juniors (I might be wrong).  Both Camille Leblanc-Bazinet and Fisher have fucking quadriceps, and snatch and, clean and jerk totals that could emasculate the pants off me.  Guess what?  They both are pretty aesthetically pleasing.

(Links to images, because I think if I post the actual image it's a copyright violation and I don't want to be sued)

Lauren Fisher and Camille Leblance-Bazinet.

"Oh no ladies, I couldn't possibly fall in love with you.  You put my weightlifting total to shame" said no self-secure man ever."

Hell, weightlifting alone is another issue.  Now I might've just spent an hour looking through goddamn every thing, but I'm fairly positive that Jenny Arthur was the only American lifter who qualified for the A in any weight class.  She didn't win, but hell that is an achievement.  Most of the heavy lifters in this country are probably playing Football; they're making millions so they could give a fuck about a gold medal.  Ladies, this is an opportunity if you ever wanted one, you could dominate USA weightlifting, the door is open, and there is really nothing stopping you from that.  Women could potentially saturate the entire sport, and I welcome you to do that.

My rant is done.  If you're a women, besides the obvious lack of testosterone (unless you can afford it), you have the right and massive capability to be just as successful in strength, and fitness as the men.

The Sonny Hancock Benefit Show on March 1st

Holy shit, I didn't get to stay for Pushing Up Daisies, unfortunately, but everyone prior to that was infinitely amazing.  I felt like I was 16 again; however, my body quickly reminded me, the next morning, that I was not 16.   It begs a different question that some of you might have: besides the fact you were supporting a fundraiser to aid your murdered friend's son, what possible reason could I have had for being there, or even absolutely loving it?

You're not straightedge anymore.  You rarely hang out with your friends.  You're practically a jock now. None of the bands are even touring. Why even give a shit?  Why not just sit in the back and pretend to be there?

I can't do that.  I lack the  capacity to.  I NEED to feel like I did ten years ago.  I need it.  I crave it actually.  I miss playing in bands, and yelling my head off.  I miss getting into a physical altercation every weekend.  I miss grabbing the mic, and jumping on top of people.  I miss throwing my arms about like a whirling dervish (and not being completely physically exhausted). 

At the time, I was in high school, and shows and hardcore, and straightedge, are really all I cared about doing with my life.  I went on to different paths that took me a little further away from where I grew up, both physically and morally, but I somehow found my way back to this place, and resurfaces bits of heart every time I get to see some band that I would strive to see all the time.  It ignites something primal in me. 

I just want to be free from my wretched life for an evening, and come home feeling bruised and relaxed; like it was some sort of fucked up therapy.

Thank you all who made that happen, and to all the bands that played.  It was the best tribute that Brad could have hoped for.  I hope Sonny sees pictures of his dad, and then pictures from this show, and be reminded that his father was truly loved, and worth every bit of song.

       “I like beautiful melodies telling me terrible things.”  -Tom Waits

A Pessimist's Guide for Strength and Conditioning (Road to University Nationals Journal Entry 3)

You can blame my coach for this atrocity that I am creating.

Last Thursday, I had the absolute hardest time doing snatches in the morning.  I set up the same way I always did, but for a clusterfuck of reasons, I was unable to get under the bar appropriately.  I had no drive from my legs.  I rested, contemplated, asked the coach if I could do my singles as hang snatches instead.  He concurred.  I finished 4 singles between 70-73kg as hang snatches...BUT I did not do the full snatches.  One might argue that I didn't work the full muscles required for an optimal snatch, but I did do the best  I could with the equipment functionality (my quadraceps and hamstrings) at the time.

An optimist would never think like this.  An optimist has hope. An optimist wouldve said "Yeah I can do a full set of snatches everyday of the week".  Die hard optimists would rather go to training blind folded from all other senses, than the ones that tell them that they are going to achieve EVERYTHING today.  When they come up short, even by a margin, they abuse themselves, flail their arms, and are emotionally crushed for the remainder of the day.

Fuck your optimism.

I feel like the general consensus of today's society is to be blindly optimistic.  Look at your facebook feed.  I imagine there is at least a thousand and one posts about 

"keeping those positive vibes", "I am blessed", "stay positive", "keep your chin up"

This is just silly.  For once in your life look at yourself in the mirror, and accept the reality.  You might actually have a really fucking terrible day, you hope that nothing bad happens, but the premise of misery is going to be there.  I have confidence, I can do the work, but I don't drown myself in faith and hope for greatness.  Greatness can come later, the work needs to be done now.

"Want in one hand, and shit in the other and tell me which one gets full first," my mom.

If you have to watch one motivational speech today, watch this one from UFC Fighter Chael Sonnen (video).   Whether you like Chael's antics or not, that speech is the truest piece of advice you can give any athlete.  Yes, it is a choice, but sometimes it is unavoidable.  Recognize it, accept it, get on with what you need to do.

"The man who is a pessimist before 48 knows too much; if he is an optimist after it, he knows too little." - Mark Twain

I am a pessimist by trade.  I grew up in a working class household, I listened to and played for a number of loud, angry bands, and I have seen a lot more in the third world, in extent, the foulness of humanity, than I ever care to see again.My expectations for life have been set low.  I actually get a little anxious when there is no adversity for me to try to overcome during the day, I constantly wait for Murphy's law to take hold at any second.  It gets demoralizing sometimes.

There is a caveat to that though.  No venture, no remorse, which honestly sounds like I'm just being lazy, like I don't take risks.  I do take risks, except when I take risks instead of

 "oh boy this is going to be fun, nothing could go wrong", 

I say

 "well I might get arrested, but fuck it, lets try it anyways."

Pessimism has been my tool for survival, and success.  The hope, and the illusion of grandeur in optimists creates false ideals.  They'll look to the sky and I say I can touch the sun, not realizing they have flown to high and will incinerate into ashes back down to earth.  When failure is unavoidable for trade optimist, they begin to wilt.  They never recognized the danger of failure, and the pain is too grossly immense when it takes hold, then the failure repeats itself, and the goal slips between their fingers. Training as a pessimist might seem difficult but it is fortuitous.  I never expect greatness everyday, I take them in stride as well as my failures, and when greatness shines through me on the days I have worked hard enough, my confidence is built, and I replicate it the next day, if my body will allow me.  I have no illusions of grandeur; therefore, I have no distractions when I make my lift.  I am mentally sound.  If I fuck it up, it's because I did something wrong, and I recognize it, and know what needs to be done to correct it. This has been an extremely lengthy entry even for me, so if you decided to scroll through it, at least put this tool in your toolbox.

A Pessimist Guide for Training 1. Wake up everyday, and believe the worst is possible. 2. Know your long term goal, and what you need to do to get there...and then promptly leave that shit at home. 3. Go to train, and adapt when the fucking grit isn't going your way.   4. Accept you are human.  You can only do so much, and you can't be great everyday. 5. Surprise yourself with accomplishment, no matter how small; be relieved cause misery was supposed to be on the menu. 6.  When it's time to sleep, go to sleep knowing that the worst didn't happen, and the best day possible did.

Road to University Nationals Journal Entry 2: Counterproductive Behavior and Confessions (WARNING: SAPPY BULLSHIT AHEAD)

I'll just put this out there.  I don't drink as often as I used to, but last night, I went full fucking "rumspringer" (long navy story), and a full gallon of Hop, Skip and Go Naked later, I was two feet in the grave with my head barely above the ground long enough to take in the fresh air and start over again.  This is not the right way for me to relax and express myself.  

We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark; the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light. -Plato

The worst part is, what these people were doing was so against my own moral code, but letting it go was just as bad, as being the one perpetuating the violation.  If you let someone else just go about doing something you, yourself, consider wrong, then prepare yourself for a harsh truth and it is that you are just as ugly as the people you chastise for it.

What am I to do with this new reality that I created for myself, because I was weak for a moment, and now somebody's eyes haunt me?  

I tried to cure it from being incessantly closed off to people about how I really feel all the time, and it gets harder, and I found that the only moment I didn't feel the weight of guilt, was at the bottom of a bottle, or when I was training.  Basically, when I put myself into a position of pain, or recovery, I just didn't need to feel it anymore, but once the penance ended my fire walk started again.  

My anxiety is even worse in a crowd.  How would these people feel about me, if they knew what I saw, and what I could've done?  My back was always up against the wall, or I would be standing up, or outside.  It's the only way I feel safe.

Perhaps I'm just being melodramatic: this reason is why it's hard for me to connect with people, or keep a relationship, or show somebody what I actually feel for them.  

I could've been the antidote, but instead I became a toxin.

There you have it.  That is why I act the way I do.  That is why every word I speak is humorous or cynical.   I don't take anybody's problems too seriously, cause I know now, from experience, somebody else in the world is having a much worse time than you are.

I need to pick up the weights more, maybe get some counseling, and put down heavy drinking.  I'm sorry for this emotional, sappy, woe-is-me crap.  I just found a need to decompress.

Confession is always weakness. The grave soul keeps its own secrets, and takes its own punishment in silence. -Dorothy Dix

Road to University Nationals Journal Entry 1: Actually doing what the program says and what the coach is telling you to do

Big news to those who haven't heard yet, Weber State University has had the honor of the USA Weighhtlifting Nationals bestowed upon us.  You can read the full press release here.   Salt Lake managed to acquire the USAW Nationals last year, and a lot of my team members went to volunteer for it.  I didn't; however, I still went to watch some athletes work (whilst wearing my WSU Weightlifting T-shirt of course).  Exposure was the key tactic at this event.  We needed our name out there, and by god it worked.  The commission gave the event to us.  We've only been in business for a year.  That shit is a huge mile stone.

I won't yank your chain.  I was being a selfish prick; I wanted to watch the athletes, and I since they denied me loader duties, I really didn't feel like watching the door.

Now this also sparked something inside me; I have the opportunity to compete in a major event, in front of my friends and family, and they wouldn't even have to drive half an hour to watch me lift.  Right now I stand about 28kg under the qualifying total, but the comp isn't until September, so I have plenty of the time to hone my skills, and complete that marker.

The program we have now is more volume work and anything.  More reps but at a lighter weight with a emphasis on consistency, form, and speed. I am used to neglecting programming (it's a weakness, I feel like doing more when I know I shouldn't), but the new spark of an attainable objective and a common goal has kept me in check. I need to respect the goal in the programming, and have faith that my coach knows what he's talking about.

Athletes are competitive by nature; it's what keeps us driving and pushing forward.  It instills such an A-Type personality, that we often get to involved in the problem of effective training, that we forget to step back and see where we are at and what needs to be done, instead of attempting to put ourselves into a sweat Niagara every single time.  That is where the coach comes in.  His/her job is to make sure you are not cutting yourself short, and not over exerting yourself to the point of injury.

 It's sort of a shared blame system: you need to take the programming seriously, while the coach needs to make sure he is applying the proper guidance to his apprentice.  

When the student fails, the master also feels pain for he feels he has also failed.   They must try harder next time.

I, for one, understand where my coach's programming is coming from, and I will listen to every word, and not act unless he pulls my string.  I'll trust his programming because it is hard for me to see myself working, I can only feel, but when you get to see someone work, you can tell them what they are doing wrong, and what they need to feel to correct the problem.  

Now that I'm done stroking Matt's ego, fuck you Matt. my legs feel like they are about to explode off my pelvis like a crash test dummy.

You have the fucking right to live! (Please Read, Please Share)

A tragedy effected my place of residency, and a good portion of my friends and family earlier this week.  A good friend and brother of mine, Brad Hancock, had his life cut short, by the hand of another.  He leaves a wife and child behind.  Here is the associated article.   It really turned the community upside down, and a lot people are hurt by it.  Even those who don't even live here were donating and spreading awareness about the event, and the fundraiser for Brad's fiancee and child in the wake of the tragedy.  Bands for the hardcore/metal/punk/indie scene such as Stick to Your Guns, Wisdom in Chains, and my personal friends in Idle Hands  had posted it their band profiles on twitter and facebook, and in only two days they have raised about 15 grand.  That is astounding.  Alternative Press even had an article on their website which helps the gofundme account. The incident even has international recognition. That is huge, and heartwarming.  Everyone should take a second and look at this bittersweet moment that a community, via any form of communication, can unite to help alleviate a tragedy.  Alas it seems this is not the case, and stench of fear permeates my home.

I am not afraid of tomorrow, for I have seen yesterday and I love today.- William Allen White

I don't know if the rumor mill is true, in fact, chances are, it is not.  It's probably trickle down secondhand information, or false promises.  I, for one, don't care if they are either or.  I am not going to let someone else dictate how I live my life, and neither should all of you.  Look at the love spread from people you don't even know, and look at the support just from the local community!  You should feel safe.  Look at how many people are fighting for you to continue on with your lives. Do you think they would just let something bad happen to you?

My birthday is this Friday, and I like better-than-sex cake (It isn't but still pretty fucking good).  Now instead of actually celebrating, I'll be attending a viewing, but if someone came up to me and said "Francis McGigglefuck said he was going to set you on fire, if you dare had a birthday party", I wouldn't threaten Francis McGigglefuck (if that is your real name), I would go about my business as usual.  I would party as hard as I fucking could, and tell the world to come party with me, because I am not afraid of words, with as brave as people get with their mouths because internet, I will never be afraid of those again.   Let Francis McGigglefuck come fuck up my birthday party, and try to set me on fire, alive!  I won't stand for it, and he definitely won't be attending another one, cause if there is one thing I don't like people fucking with, it's how I have a good time!  And plus if I let McGigglefuck put fear in me (that oppressive cunt-nugget) then I'm just letting him know that he has the option to control me.  He does not.

When life gives you a hundred reasons to cry, show life that you have a thousand reasons to smile.

You all have the right to live!  Every now and then someone is going to feel like they can hurt you, or try to manipulate you, but if you remember who is really in control of your life, then you can take your power back.

 And I'll admit this to you all right now, I had my fair share of monsters when I was younger, and if you let them feed on your fear, it'll become a routine, and you will feed them when they so much as snap their fingers.

You might have to rely on your loved ones to help comfort you, you might have to rely on the skills of others to make it through the hard times, but for fucksakes, don't let someone else dare think they can control you.  You get out there and go do what the fuck you want.   And if they make good on their threats, then I can tell you no one wants a hard fight, no predator in the animal kingdom thinks to attack the strongest and most powerful in the herd; they want the sick and weak.  If those wolves out there in a community wanted a good fight, then they wouldn't shoot the unarmed, or hit and run.

The last thing a wolf would want is a well organized herd with plenty of sheep dogs in the mix.  

A strong community is better than anything at all.  One that knows who its wolves are but goes through the rough patches anyway, because they are aware, that the wolves never really know who the sheep dogs are. 

My rant is over, and this isn't just applicable now.  It will always be applicable to me.  I'm not ever going to let someone think I can't even enjoy smelling the air outside my house (except when I am downwind of the dogfood factory.  Poor seabiscuit.)  

“Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear - not absence of fear.” - Mark Twain

This is Brad's band Close Grip.  It's pretty good weightlifting music.  

Please go donate to the GOFUNDME account for Mariah and Sonny.  We miss you, Brad, and our love for you won't die.

Here is a tribute video for brad http://youtu.be/0kDTdFGQkPc

I presented my case against lethal injection well. This was on one of my peer feedback papers.

Fitness-bodybuilding.tumblr.com

I am starting to write for a travelblog site. Most of my stories are just drunken sea shenanigans, but you should give it a read if you life.

The Perception of Success

Success is relative.  That's the pretty much the end of that discussion.  It's relative, but for a lot of people success is based on a social constant.  Everyone seems to need the wife, the two kids, the house, the white picket fence, and the fucking two cars, and the nine to five job where you toil with marketing plans, or balancing accounts, or whatever else you pencil necks like to do. 

If that is something you like to do.  There is no problem with that, I just would like you check your brain cause I have never met anyone who grew up as kid wanting to be a fucking accountant

All of this is what can get you social recognition in the community as "successful".  I will admit something to you right now, I am far from "successful".  I am 25, I recently traded potential "success" in the Navy, to move back into my parents basement, in order to achieve a dream I had.  I make minimal money, but my dad was kind enough to make my monthly payments small enough, so I could still attend college.  

All that said, is enough to kill any potential mating faster than wearing crocs in public.

Sometimes I come under fire for this.  It's always "You should really get a degree to be an anesthesiologist."  or "You should get a degree in business administration.  The job opportunities are endless!" or "Glad, you're getting a degree, but you probably should have stayed in the Navy for the job security.  Maybe you can find work on the oil fields."

Now I have mentioned my theory of a social constant of "success".  The marriage, the property, the job, and the incessant need we feel as a society to drag people into the collective.  

The collective of washed out dreams.  

FUCK ALL THAT.  I don't give two shits about ANY of that (except for maybe the house eventually).  I don't want your job you hate, or to fall into the mold because that's where the security is.  I don't want to be stuck in the same place all the time.  I want to see places without having to make plans with the wife.  If I feel like taking a random trip to Europe tomorrow morning, then I just fucking go, and if I have the money, there is little to nothing anyone can do to stop me.

Average life expectancy, in America, is upwards around 80 years.  I'm only 25, I've got awhile to go.  I'm not saying the family life isn't a worth something, but it is a perk, not a goal for me.  If it happens it'll probably happen way later, when I feel like everything I wanted to make for myself has been completed.  In no way am I finished, not even half. I've got 15 years before I'm generally half way finished.

The first half of life consists of the capacity to enjoy without the the chance; the last half consists of the chance without the capacity.- Twain

So please, friends, stop asking me when am I going to settle down, or when am I going to find a real job.  I'm making my own definition of successful cause yours doesn't fulfill me.  In fact, if I went with "success", then I would go mad.  It would rip my soul apart, that I couldn't take care of everything that I have ever wanted to do.

“The individual has always had to struggle to keep from being overwhelmed by the tribe. If you try it, you will be lonely often, and sometimes frightened. But no price is too high to pay for the privilege of owning yourself.” - Nietsche

That's what I really want.  I want to own myself.  With that tangent I chalk up my hands, grip the steel, and a break a new limit in physicality, and self awareness.

Nothing to see here. #weberstate #weightlifting #usaw #menintights

hahaha god damn it

My vice with "being ON the team"

I wrote an article on self reliance last time, but as much as you should rely on yourself, you can learn nothing new, or better, without being a part of a team.  

The amount of shit I didn't know about strength training, that I do now, simply from working out with other people, has been phenomenal. How are you going to learn anything new, if the only knowledge you have is a first person view? 

Find team mates and find coaches you can trust.  I emphasize that because there is usually two problems that come from not having any trust in those you encompass yourself with.  

1.  They are unconfident, thumb-twirling dipshits who don't have the fondest clue about anything, support nothing rational, probably lazy, and facilitate no ability to fix either of those problems

2. You are a self-centered idiot, who doesn't want to learn, who thinks he knows everything about his craft, and has no social skills.  Basically you are the fucktard who nobody wants to work with, cause you can't be taught.

The thing about making a mold is that it makes no sense to use rigid objects.  Be made of clay, so that the rest of us can fucking shape you into something.  

The basic construct for being an amazing teammate is that you have the desire to fix just about anything wrong and to learn, and believing you are great, but you don't know everything to acquire that greatness; therefore, you leave yourself open for much needed enlightenment.  You know your potential, but accept that you need other people to fulfill your potential.  Which brings up another point

Stop saying you are ON the team!  You are A PART of the team.

To say you are on is a position related to where the team is.  While one could argue, "on" could be a preposition to represent attachment or unified against, it is still in relation to the position of the team.  You are a part.  Something inside, something that keeps the rest of the parts turning.  To say you are "a part" represents that there are other parts of the team, and any intelligent person could determine there must be other parts that make this whole.  You are not with, on, or above (godforbid you ever say that) when you are a part.

“Talent wins games, but teamwork and intelligence wins championships.”  ― Michael Jordan

Of Anger, Stress, Self-Realization, and The Dark Room.

I'm going to cut to the chase, this week was a fucking stress bomb for me.  It seemed that all my classes decided to have every exam due on the same day, I forgot my homework for math class as well as my calculator for the test, the monthly bills were do, my credit card number was stolen by some guy in texas.

Texas: Everything's bigger here, including the fuck-berries and assholes.

Even after all that I had some problems with a girl.  I know I typically act like a callous cynic who is void of anything relative to humanity, but hey, nature has dictated, and I'm actually a big pussy on the inside.  This can lead to routine self doubt (the greatest destroyer of goals) and poor self perception (me being a throbbing pussy).  This negative outlook has turned me into a competitor though.  I've always wanted to prove to everyone else that I am worth something, cause, in all actuality, what the world sees you for is what you tend to believe.  Despite what those self help books tell you, the majority rules.

Back on subject.

The week pretty much sucked, but if there was one constant, it was that I still had weight lifting practice at 6 am.  It requires me to get up at 4:30 if I have any hope of breakfast, and proper metabolism before I start the workout, and I value my performance.  This adds to the stress sometimes, but it is something I look forward to in the week, so I always manage.  I also always get there 15 minutes early so I can warm up before everyone else gets there, and then while everyone else warms up I get easy pickins on the best bars there.  

Crafty like a fox...a fox with really broad shoulders.

Thursday just so happens to be my clean and jerk days, so after all this I do a specific warm-up, I slip my iPhone into my compression shorts (who needs pockets when you wear compression shorts), and I go right to adding on weight and working up.  Something different happened this time; where I usually calculate, and anticipate the next movements, and which weights to put on, I don't remember what I was doing.  My cognizance was not there.  All I felt was my irritation and annoyance from the previous days consume me, cause it's all I could think about, yet, I wasn't frustrated.  I was in the zone, I felt testosterone and adrenaline course my veins.  I'd compare it to driving angry.

I worked my way up passed my PR from the weeks before all the way up to 9 kg plus on top of that.  My mental blocks had been removed and was landing drops on my jerks (the part which used to be the bane of my existence) with astounding efficiency.  I could hear my teammates congratulate me, albeit my headphones, but I was not there.  I was in the dark room with myself, and spot light illuminating the bar.  The bar wasn't metal anymore, it was a composite of  everything that I hated about the last week and myself, and every time I got to pick it up and throw it to the ground, I felt some worry in the back of mind, break and shatter.  The heavier the bar got, the more I felt worthy of something again.  

It was only after I could hear a couple of teammates shout in the distance of the music blaring through my headphones, on an attempt to put 11kg on my old PR, an attempt I failed at, I pushed the bar to far out in front of me on the jerk, my animosity trickled out of me, and I was back to acting like a normal human being.  No more prowling the bar like bear on it's kill, or a vigilante seeking revenge.  The camaraderie ensued and I realized something.   

There's plenty of people around you to believe in you, but they're not even half the solution.  It helps but sometimes it's all you.  If you got rid of everyone around you, would you be able to dig deep and find that dark room, crush everything in there, and ascend to greatness.

 I have awesome friends who want to help me, and I thank them, but they don't control the ship, I do.  I control where my body takes me, and where my mind is at.  Sometimes the only person, you should really feel worthy of, is yourself.

“Nothing in the world is worth having or worth doing unless it means effort, pain, difficulty… I have never in my life envied a human being who led an easy life. I have envied a great many people who led difficult lives and led them well.”  ― Theodore Roosevelt

What you really own.

People tend to ask me why I spend so much money on a gym membership or why I’ll spend so much time working out anyways, then I see them dropping THOUSANDS of dollars on car or truck modifications, or dirt biking gear, or computers, or fucking boozing for christsakes.  I spend so much time doing stuff with fitness in general because at the end of the day, when all your fucking F-150’s, dirt bikes, and computers stop running, or the day you eventually drive your truck with a dirt bike trailer through a custom computer store window, and all that is shit canned, YOUR BODY IS THE ONLY FUCKING THING YOU’LL OWN ALL THE GOD DAMN TIME!When there’s an economic collapse or some sort of natural disaster, or we’re invaded by aliens or whatever the hell you think is possible, all that shit you put so much money into, is not going to matter, AND if it does in the situation, you definitely need to revise your priorities.  Actually, don’t revise them, cause in a post apocalyptic wasteland, there needs to be weak people to be prey.   I’m sorry but I’m going to be a realist about this, if the shit hits the fan, and my basic survival needs are at risk, and the justice system is immensely broken down, then it’s no bars held.  If you have something I need in that type of situation, and you’re weaker than I am, I will take it from you.  You might think that sounds cruel, cold, and devious, but the truth is when survival is the issue morality dies, and the only thing that saves you is what you have to fucking offer in terms of skills, physicality, and intelligence.  Typically you need a little bit of all three.  You can’t be big and dumb, but you can’t be smart and weak either.  You need to be well balanced.  If you can bench a farm tracker, but can’t walk up to the gym counter without wheezing, you’ll probably end up being killed quickly too, along the 25 year old basement vermin who too much time knowing, and not enough time doing. I realize I’m not the strongest around, but I am well balanced.  I’m knowledgeable, I know basic first aid.  I may not be able to backsquat 400 (yet) but I’m flexible, and I can run a mile and half in about 9 min and even pick up the pace afterwards.  Eventually you’ll learn what your strengths and weaknesses are.  My weakness, I have a terrible time gaining weight (fat or muscle), the times I’ve tried, I ate into excess that every minute of the day, I felt like puking.  I eventually accepted that putting on good muscle bulk is hard for me, so I make up for it in other elements of fitness (muscular endurance, durability, dexterity) to combat that weakness, and help become an a top carnivore.  The king of the mountain.  The Apex Rex.

So after you are done reading this tangent, ask yourself this 

"If the society collapses and disorder ensues, and everything I have is stripped away from me, how long could live for and what can I to stop myself from being easy prey?"

Have worked out your weaknesses, while harnessing your strengths?  Could you smartly scavenge for supplies?  There  are people who will take advantage of you if you give them the opportunity (I know I would).  Could you defend yourself or get away if you needed to?  Could you pull your own body weight up a tree for instance? Do you know how fight for your life?  

Cordial rules of combat no longer apply in dystopia, so I suggest you work your cunt-punting leg up to its maximum efficiency, cause the easiest way to dispatch an assailant is a well placed shot to the fucking goods.  Ie: There is a reason every Krav Maga combo starts off with at least one.

I’m not trying to be an overbearing alpha male cockswinger, but when you lie down without your expensive gadgets, I just want you to think about what you really own.