Chris is getting ready for a meet in about a month. He squatted a reported easy 630 the other day (he told me he could have doubled it). I had him pull a heavier single at 640. Here it is:
Mike is competing this weekend at USAPL Military Nationals. His brother Alex is getting nice and strong again. Here’s 485×3.
Chris doesn’t like that he can’t bench well, but in January of 2009 he had a pretty serious shoulder injury in an Oly meet that probably should have had surgical attention. Instead I helped him rehab and he’s pushing towards a 400 bench. Here’s a paused single at 375.
You can send your training vids in, and feel free to post them to the comments. Get reckless.
Unfortunately you thought this was another awesome post on brisket. Instead, it’s a meet recap from a guy named Briskin, but we just call him Brisket because it’s smart. Here is his meet recap:
Short version: I hit PRs in all my lifts, experimented with some new substances, and had a terrific time. Everyone involved was extremely supportive and a credit to the sport, except for one idiot who I will talk about later.
To prepare for my first meet, without going into excruciating detail, I used a version of the Texas Method I’ve been doing some form of TM programming for more than a year (started in January 2010) with good results, especially in the squat. Then, about three weeks out from the meet, I succumbed to the flu, which didn’t derail me completely, but it did cause me to miss a couple of important sessions. I bounced back quickly by pounding down water and protein, and was feeling okay one week out.
I showed up the afternoon before the meet. Ted Isabella, the USPF official in charge, was patient in helping me submit my openers and figure out my rack heights. In training, I weighed about 190, and I decided that instead of worrying about cutting a significant amount of weight for my very first meet, I would just show up at 190 and be in the middle of the 90kg class, no big deal. Then I got a shock when I stripped down to my underwear and stepped on the scale; 82.9kg (182.7lbs). My first thought was “There’s no way that’s right,” closely followed by “I hope Justin doesn’t find out about this.” Even though the flu had caused me to lose some weight, my appetite had mostly come back, my clothes hadn’t felt any looser, and I thought there was just no way in hell I was still down over seven pounds. Still, the scale said I was .4kg over the 82.5kg class. I decided if I was going to be that guy who weighs under 200lbs, I might as well do it properly, so I went to the john and caught up on some reading. Later I realized the meet scale must have been light, because the other lifters said they had the same experience. I was relieved to know that I wasn’t really that depleted, because it would have completely shot my confidence, but for better or worse, I was in the 82.5kg class.
This meet turned out to be small, only 22 lifters. Each lift went in two flights, with the first flight of each lift mostly composed of a team of kids from a local high school (more on them later). I served as my own handler and coach, which worked out fine. I started warming up each lift, taking plenty of time between sets, when I heard the start of the “A” flight announced. Between my lifts in the warmup room I stepped back in to the main room to watch some of the high school kids lifting. Then, when the end of the A flight was announced, I knew that it was time to hit my last warmup and move to the staging area. Of course, not having a handler to keep me updated on events and give my attempts to the officials meant more standing and walking around for me, but since I had nervous energy pouring out of my ears at this point, that suited me perfectly.
Before this meet I hadn’t really understood the wonder of adrenaline, or how well the competitive environment can channel it. As the last of the “A” squats was announced, I hit my final squat warmup at 385. “Damn,” I thought, “that felt pretty heavy.” Five minutes later, I was walking out for my opener at 195kg (430). I don’t usually scream or get very emotional in the gym, except for some quiet, inner psyching up for PR sets, but today I was foaming at the mouth on nearly every attempt. I unracked 430, waited for the “squat” command like a good boy and bounced the ever-living hell out of it. I was getting the “rack” command faster than I could blink. I was so excited at how light the opener felt that I stormed off the platform all the way to the back of the staging area, and right past the woman asking me what I wanted for my second attempt. I went back and called for 205kg (452), then resumed pacing.
My second attempt started much like the first, no problems waiting for the squat command. Again, I blasted it up fast, so fast that my left foot did a stupid little jig before the “rack” command, which got me three reds. This put me in a bit of a jam; I knew I had more in the tank, but if I missed my third attempt I would get credit only for my opening 430. I went back to the staging area and considered calling for 210kg, which I knew I could make. Then I thought “Fuck it, this is competition,” and called for 215kg (474). This was 20lbs more than I had ever had on my back before. When I heard my name five minutes later, I stormed out to the bar, bellowed, and walked it out. I was mad as hell, but I knew I couldn’t afford to miss either of the commands. I could feel in my entire body how hard the bar was trying to staple me to the floor, but it went up faster than I dared hope. My lovely assistant didn’t get the aftermath on video, but I went ballistic when I turned around and saw the three white lights. I also got he honor of being the very last squat of the day, because a 60-year-old suited lifter who had squatted 600 on his second attempt passed on his third. I hope the audience who saw me cap off the day’s squatting by yelling like an asshole feel they got their money’s worth. The bench is my least remarkable lift, and it went smoothly. I opened with a conservative 115kg (253) and threw it at the ceiling. My second attempt at 120kg (264) got a red light from the center judge due to a slightly uneven elbow lock, but it passed. I took my third at 125kg (275), a weight I had failed in training a week ago. I gave it just enough pause and pressed it more easily than my second attempt, probably because I had my feet and shoulders positioned better. I had about half an hour until the flight B deadlifts, so I hurried off to take my tenth nervous leak of the day.
Warming up my deadlift, I could feel some fatigue seeping through my adrenaline shield. I decided that if I could tie my PR of 507, which I had set while completely fresh, I would consider that a victory. I came out for my opener at 210kg (462) and pulled it easily. I asked for 230kg (507) next, and paced a little more. Earlier in the warmup room a lifter who I had been buddying around with all day suggested I try dabbing a bit of talcum powder on my thighs to reduce the friction with the bar, and I may have gotten overzealous with it, because I got the bar within an inch of lockout, and then it slipped forward. Stupid. I walked back to the official’s table to declare my third attempt, and wondered aloud whether I should go up 5kg. Ted Isabella, sitting in the head judge’s chair, looked over while the loaders were working on the bar, saw me hesitating, and said “Jake, stick with the same weight. Work the total, don’t work the ego.” Even considering how small the meet was, I was impressed that he cared enough to pay attention to me personally and advise me. I had seen him do this throughout the day, making sure that lifters who missed lifts understood why they had been red lighted. So I asked for 230kg again.
It was also at this point that I decided to try an ammonia cap for the first time. I was facing the prospect of having to redo what I thought would be my last lift of the day, and getting my blood up one last time after having it up almost constantly for the whole day. I’ve heard many descriptions of the feeling of ammonia inhalants, but I’ll add my own experience: imagine taking a giant gulp of the hardest liquor you’ve ever tasted, then right as you swallow it, K. Konstantinovs runs up and slaps you in the face. I stormed out to the platform, yelling my head off and asking for more crowd noise, then pulled for a ll I was worth.
Once I got it past my knees I knew I had won, and it was just a matter of staying committed to lockout. Putting the bar down and seeing three whites after that was difficult to describe. In the end, I went 474/275/507 for a raw total of 1,256 in the 181 class, and a nice shiny trophy.
Remember when I said I would talk more about the team of high school lifters later? Well, now’s the time; I hold nothing against any of those kids, but their form on all the lifts was absolutely egregious, and for that I can only blame their coach, the one errant turd in the bowl of otherwise delicious punch that was my day. I won’t apologize for blasting him, and because his kids are too inexperienced to know better, I feel like I have to rail him twice as hard on their behalf. This prick, who by the way was practically spherical, has cheerfully taught half a dozen kids to high-bar squat piddling weights in running shoes and knee wraps while looking up so far you’d think there was a porno being projected on the ceiling. For doing this massive disservice to the kids in his care, he deserves to be fined at the very least. About the only good thing that can be said about this clusterfuck was that I didn’t see any of the kids squatting high.
Now, I’m not one of those people who argues that Olympic lifting is better than powerlifting because it looks sexier, or requires more flexibility or balance or eleetness, but I will say this: when you go into a gym where people call themselves weightlifters, you learn the snatch and the clean and jerk properly, and you either follow the same high standards as internationally competitive lifters or you find yourself another gym. Powerlifting would benefit greatly from this kind of quality control. Powerlifting is a great sport, but teaching impressionable kids to do stupid shit is NOT A SPORT, and wrapping your knees to squat 150lbs as your third attempt is definitely not a sport. It seems like some people–not many, but a few–are willing to throw any combination of squishy-shoed, porn-on-the-ceiling squats, sloppily paused bench presses, and butt-ugly deadlifts into a pot and call the resulting gruel “powerlifting”. And that is a damn shame.
To end on a high note, I owe many thanks to Ted and the other USPF officials and lifters who made the meet possible. You are all class acts, I respect the hell out of you and I don’t blame you at all for the actions of this one fool. Thanks are also due to all of my friends who encouraged me or sent me any kind of positive vibes–you know who you are. And to the audience at the meet, I apologize again for screaming in your faces.
There have been some posts on what music readers like to listen to when lifting, but this one is the only one worth reading. As I’m typing this, I’m listening to Alice Cooper’s “Welcome To My Nightmare” — go ahead and click it if you want the full effect of reading this post (if you don’t like YouTube, go to Playlist.com and search it).
Music can help act as a catalyst for the release of adrenaline, but it can also have a calming effect. It’s incredibly useful to inject a mood when emotion and intensity are low. However, I do believe that music can be a crutch. It denies the necessity to learn how to get psyched up without it, and it also neglects learning how to get relaxed without it. Nevertheless, it’s very useful when training and drinking.
Personally, I’m not impressed with the majority of music. I hate most mainstream music and most types of music. I prefer obvious displays of artistic ability, and that isn’t found within pop, emo, U2, or Creed. Additionally, lifters stereotypically prefer metal that has a guy screaming with a horrible guttural noise that is sorta like, but not necessarily the noise I make when I vomit. Again, I’m unimpressed. That doesn’t mean I don’t like metal or any other type of music; you can go ahead and assume that I not only am unimpressed with your favorite bands or songs, but that I hate them.
Hell, who gives a shit what I think? This post isn’t about what I do or don’t like, it’s about what you like. Detail what your favorite type of training music is, and then what specific type of music or songs you prefer on your heavy or intense sets. To me, “training music” would be something that I would enjoy having on in the background during warm-ups or assistance exercises. That is a category that is different than what I consider “squat songs”, or songs that I listen to specifically for squatting really heavy. Post your favorites to the comments. Don’t hesitate to make fun of each other (it’s all in good fun). (You can post YouTube links if you want, but remember that you can get better quality on other music sites like playlist.com)
I’ll go first:
Lately I’ve been in a gym that doesn’t have music playing at all, and I don’t use a music device. I psyche up without music, but last night I psyched up thinking about Led Zeppelin’s Achille’s Last Stand, which is an awesome ten minute tune with some intense guitar and drum pieces (and is one of my favorite songs overall). I’ve squatted to When the Levee Breaks by Zeppelin, I’m a Man by Chicago (the first album is solid, down hill after the early days), and most songs from Guns N’ Roses Appetite for Destruction album, namely Welcome to the Jungle, Nighttrain, and especially Out Ta Get Me. With the exception of Sweet Child O’ Mine, that whole album is solid. Most Led Zeppelin is, but I don’t enjoy their stuff that is overplayed on the radio and opt for the more bluesy stuff like Since I’ve Been Loving You, but it’s more for laid back training. Also, I really like Billy Idol for lifting heavy. I shit you not, Rebel Yell and White Wedding get me amped. Other than that, I like most upbeat classic and 80’s rock to have in the background of training. I haven’t heard much metal outside of 80’s metal, but I enjoy Metallica’s early stuff and Motorhead.
This weekend I watched Rio Bravo, starring John Wayne. The first memory I had of Wayne was at the movie ride in MGM Studios. The ride’s boat rounds a corner, and a mechanized John Wayne is sitting on a horse talking some kind of smack (Side note: I can’t remember if this was before or after the Lieutenant Ripley scene where she was against the wall, panting quickly when one of the aliens bursts out of the wall and scared the living shit out of me at six years old). I really hadn’t seen any of his movies either; they were before my time.
John Wayne injected the world with masculinity. His gritty determination and “take no shit” attitude embody what 70’s Big stands for. Whether dealing with sassy women or no-good, dirty criminals, Wayne is stern, gruff and righteous. If John Wayne was before your time, I suggest checking out one of his movies. Here is a preview for Rio Bravo. More on Rio Bravo:
A small-town sheriff in the American West enlists the help of a cripple, a drunk, and a young gunfighter in his efforts to hold in jail the brother of the local bad guy.
John Wayne was an icon because of his distinctive voice, walk, and size; he was bigger than most actors and in his movies he often dwarfs his supporting cast (especially when he’s busy hitting them in the face with the barrel of his rifle). His leathery face may not be pretty, but John Wayne is definitely a hard-ass.
Well, it’s the end of the week. And we were having so much fun! It’s PR Friday, so post your personal records, training updates, or whatever else to the comments.
Here’s a little round up.
1. Choosing not to do things that are optimal for strength, when strength is the goal, is an admission of not wanting to be strong. It also gives me the willies.
2. Alice Cooper is pretty awesome.
3. A lot of people got pretty butt hurt about something having to do with Paleo. It’s funny though, in my carb post, the word paleo was present only once, and it was in a quote where I asked Pendlay if his lifters “ate paleo”. I also don’t remember saying that carb sources should be unhealthy or superfluous. Oh, I know — I don’t remember because it wasn’t fucking there.
4. This website is not a place to maliciously bash other websites or people, specifically CrossFit. I realize that the stereotypical CFer is extremely irritating for many reasons (don’t worry, I agree). However, there are a lot of people involved in CF that are good people. I’ve met most of my good friends through CF, and have been to a lot of places around the country that don’t totally suck. Every now and then I’ll poke fun at the stereotypical crowd, and I don’t mind if you do. Just avoid the malicious bashing so that we stay judicious about it. Maybe this analogy will work: CF may be a culture that is weird to you, but it’s the “radical CFers” that give you the bad taste in your mouth. Don’t lay judgment on all of them because there are a few crazy ones.
5. Personally, I’m pretty weirded out at nutritional zealotry. Actually, I’m weirded out about any zealotry, but that’s neither here nor there. There are plenty of people who survived beyond 90 years old, and even into their 100s, who did not have “optimal diets” (which is a debatable phrase, but we aren’t going there). There are also plenty more people who die much younger and as a direct result of being unhealthy and fat. There are also people who are riddled with cancer without bringing it on themselves (no smoking, no over-fatness, etc.). We could debate these issues all day, but in truth nobody has a comprehensive knowledge to have a good say on the matter over another person (e.g. the bio-chemist lacks the perspective of the evolutionary biologist).
Here is a simple, yet descriptive exercise. Look at what the American government has recommended regarding nutrition over the past 50 years (quick search found this). Next look at the trend of obesity rate in that same time period (the graph on this page alarmed me as a teenager). It can be assumed that a) the increased carbohydrate recommendations, b) the availability of refined sugars, c) hypothetical laziness, d) lack of knowledge of what is actually healthy, and e) a decrease in physical activity of America (did a quick search on data for this, feel free to find it and post in comments) resulted in a really fat country. As a 15 year old, I was shocked at how Americans could be identified at Disney World because of how fat they were. In any case, shifting carbohydrates away from 60 to 75% of the diet to something that has all three macronutrients providing a similar share of the calories is a significant change to the government recommendations. I’ll point out that in my carb post, I suggested eating about the same amount of carbs as the protein.
I’ve been infatuated with asking older adults (more than 60 years old) who are in good health what they’ve done in their life to result in their healthy disposition. You know what the common denominator is? They have all been active throughout their lives. One simply cited cardio, another likes to climb mountains (big ones around the world), some lifted weights, and others were cyclists. I asked the mountain climber, “Was there ever a point in your life in which you weren’t active?” He didn’t hesitate to say no. He also didn’t go on and on about how his diet made him healthy. Nobody did. They are all folks who are in shape and have never allowed their bodies to be out of shape. The point is that they adopted an active lifestyle that was engaging enough to do it for years.
Since I was about 14 years old, I wanted to be a living testament that physical activity, not getting fat, and a moderately healthy diet would stimulate longevity. Staying strong and able into older age will be dependent on the vigor of an individual. What’s the common denominator among healthy 70 and 80 year olds? They still get around. They are still active, and have the strength to get on the go.
Strength alone isn’t enough, but if it’s compounded with invigorating activity and a decent diet over the years, most problems are eliminated. Yes, this website in particular doesn’t cater skinny guys who weigh 150 pounds. Their usefulness, self-esteem, and athletic prowess can increase with significant strength and muscle increases. Yes, instead of drawing out that process to a 3 year ordeal, it can be accomplished in six months of intense non-healthy eating. Again, I will (take the painstaking patience) to point out that I’ve never suggested someone eat brownies and ice cream every day for the rest of their life. Yes, when someone has significantly higher lean body mass, their nutrition demands to not only maintain that mass, but to also recover from hard training, will be different than someone who isn’t. Furthermore, the demands of a 170 pound guy to a 210 pound guy will be different (this example assumes both have low body fat). Lastly, if that 210+ pound guy doesn’t eat a similar amount of carbs to his protein intake, then he will not lift optimally (among other things, but they digress).
Once a guy wants to level out his body weight, he can begin the process of improving his body composition by cleaning up his diet. We say this on the site all the time. It’s just that compared to other websites, we rejoice in having more strength and muscle.
The body responds to stress — or a lack of stress — that is imparted on it. If you don’t exercise/train for years at a time, your body becomes soft and unadapted. Your neuroendocrine system adapts to a state of “not a lot going on”. Instead, regular exercise and training keeps the structures adapted and keeps all of that chemical and hormone stuff optimal. Nowadays, people want to over complicate everything. Just keep it simple. If you feel unhealthy, then figure out why and do something about it.
People say that being a competitive lifter/athlete and healthy are mutually exclusive. That’s not my belief. A competitive athlete has much higher phyiscal demands, thus they’ll have much higher fuel demands. I have this funny feeling that Dean Karnazes and Michael Phelps won’t be dropping dead at a young age.
Train hard, stay active, eat decently, and have fun. Or just shut up and squat.
