Here is an old essay that harnesses a lesson that we all need to be reminded of. I hope that you all take the time to read it.

A MESSAGE TO GARCIA
written by Elbert Hubbard
February 22, 1899

In all this Cuban business there is one man stands out on the horizon of my memory like Mars at perihelion. When war broke out between Spain and the United States, it was very necessary to communicate quickly with the leader of the Insurgents. Garcia was somewhere in the mountain fastnesses of Cuba – no one knew where. No mail or telegraph could reach him. The President must secure his co-operation, and quickly.

What to do!

Someone said to the President, “There’s a fellow by the name of Rowan will find Garcia for you, if anybody can.”

Rowan was sent for and given a letter to be delivered to Garcia. How “the fellow by name of Rowan” took the letter, sealed it up in an oil-skin pouch, strapped it over his heart, in four days landed by night off the coast of Cuba from an open boat, disappeared into the jungle, and in three weeks came out on the other side of the island, having traversed a hostile country on foot, and having delivered his letter to Garcia, are things I have no special desire now to tell in detail.

The point I wish to make is this: McKinley gave Rowan a letter to be delivered to Garcia; Rowan took the letter and did not ask, “Where is he at?” By the Eternal! There is a man whose form should be cast in deathless bronze and the statue placed in every college in the land. It is not book-learning young men need, nor instruction about this or that, but a stiffening of the vertebrae which will cause them to be loyal to a trust, to act promptly, concentrate their energies; do the thing – “carry a message to Garcia!”

General Garcia is dead now, but there are other Garcias.

No man, who has endeavored to carry out an enterprise where many hands were needed, but has been well-nigh appalled at times by the imbecility of the average man – the inability or unwillingness to concentrate on a thing and do it. Slipshod assistance, foolish inattention, dowdy indifferece, and half-hearted work seem to be the rule; and no man succeeds, unless by hook or crook, or threat, he forces or bribes other men to assist him; or mayhap, God in His goodness performs a miracle, and sends him an Angel of Light for an assistant. You, reader, put this matter to a test: You are sitting now in your office -six clerks are within your call. Summon any one and make this request: “Please look in the encyclopedia and make a brief memorandum for me concerning the life of Corregio.”

Will the clerk quietly say, “Yes, sir,” and go do the task?

On your life, he will not. He will look at you out of a fishy eye, and ask one or more of the following questions:

Who was he?

Which encyclopedia?

Where is the encyclopedia?

Was I hired for that?

Don’t you mean Bismarck?

What’s the matter with Charlie doing it?

Is he dead?

Is there any hurry?

Shan’t I bring you the book and let you look it up yourself?

What do you want to know for?

And I will lay you ten to one that after you have answered the questions, and explained how to find the information, and why you want it, the clerk will go off and get one of the other clerks to help him find Garcia – and then come back and tell you there is no such man. Of course I may lose my bet, but according to the Law of Average, I will not.

Now if you are wise you will not bother to explain to your “assistant” that Corregio is indexed under the C’s, not in the K’s, but you will smile sweetly and say, “Never mind,” and go look it up yourself.

And this incapacity for independent action, this moral stupidity, this infirmity of the will, this unwillingness to cheerfully catch hold and lift, are the things that put pure socialism so far into the future. If men will not act for themselves, what will they do when the benefit of their effort is for all? A first mate with knotted club seems necessary; and the dread of getting “the bounce” Saturday night holds many a worker in his place.

Advertise for a stenographer, and nine times out of ten who apply can neither spell nor punctuate – and do not think it necessary to.

Can such a one write a letter to Garcia?

“You see that bookkeeper,” said the foreman to me in a large factory.

“Yes, what about him?”

“Well, he’s a fine accountant, but if I’d send him to town on an errand, he might accomplish the errand all right, and, on the other hand, might stop at four saloons on the way, and when he got to Main Street, would forget what he had been sent for.”

Can such a man be entrusted to carry a message to Garcia?

We have recently been hearing much maudlin sympathy expressed for the “down-trodden denizen of the sweat shop” and the “homeless wanderer searching for honest employment,” and with it all often go many hard words for the men in power.

Nothing is said about the employer who grows old before his time in a vain attempt to get frowsy ne’er-do-wells to do intelligent work; and his long patient striving with “help” that does nothing but loaf when his back is turned. In every store and factory there is a constant weeding-out process going on. The employer is constantly sending away “help” that have shown their incapacity to further the interests of the business, and others are being taken on. No matter how good times are, this sorting continues, only if times are hard and work is scarce, this sorting is done finer – but out and forever out, the incompetent and unworthy go. It is the survival of the fittest. self-interest prompts every employer to keep the best-those who can carry a message to Garcia.

I know one man of really brilliant parts who has not the ability to manage a business of his own, and yet who is absolutely worthless to anyone else, because he carries with him constantly the insane suspicion that his employer is oppressing, or intending to oppress, him. He can not give orders, and he will not receive them. Should a message be given him to take to Garcia, his answer would probably be, “Take it yourself.

Tonight this man walks the streets looking for work, the wind whistling through his threadbare coat. No one who knows him dare employ him, for he is a regular firebrand of discontent. He is impervious to reason, and the only thing that can impress him is the toe of a thick-soled No. 9 boot.

Of course I know that one so morally deformed is no less to be pitied than a physical cripple; but in your pitying, let us drop a tear, too, for the men who are striving to carry on a great enterprise, whose working hours are not limited by the whistle, and whose hair is fast turning white through the struggle to hold the line in dowdy indifference, slipshod imbecility, and the heartless ingratitude which, but for their enterprise, would be both hungry and homeless.

Have I put the matter too strongly? Possibly I have; but when all the world has gone a-slumming I wish to speak a word of sympathy for the man who succeeds – the man who, against great odds, has directed the efforts of others, and, having succeeded, finds there’s nothing in it: nothing but bare board and clothes.

I have carried a dinner-pail and worked for a day’s wages, and I have also been an employer of labor, and I know there is something to be said on both sides. There is no excellence, per se, in poverty; rags are no recommendation; and all employers are not rapacious and high-handed, any more than all poor men are virtuous.

My heart goes out to the man who does his work when the “boss” is away, as well as when he is home. And the man who, when given a letter for Garcia, quietly takes the missive, without asking any idiotic questions, and with no lurking intention of chucking it into the nearest sewer, or of doing aught else but deliver it, never gets “laid off,” nor has to go on strike for higher wages. Civilization is one long anxious search for just such individuals. Anything such a man asks will be granted; his kind is so rare that no employer can afford to let him go. He is wanted every city, town, and village – in every office, shop, store and factory. The world cries out for such; he is needed, and needed badly – the man who can carry a message to Garcia.
_____

I hope that you took something away from this; I know I did. Instead of spoon feeding you the relevancy, I’ll let you stew on it.

Thunderthighs and Antigen are regular 70’s Big readers. This lifting couple competed in their first meet this past weekend, and ThunderThighs gives her account here. It’s kinda lengthy, but I enjoyed it and preserved it in its original form. Enjoy.

Hello stronglings! (if you didn’t catch that reference, it is a term modeled after yoda’s gender neutral reference ‘younglings’ to his students in training)

I am not quite sure what to say. I’m not really as wise as the great yoda…but…I have finally competed in a powerlifting meet! I wish I had some great insights for you, but I don’t. I’m so excited about competing that I would just love to share some of the story with you all.

Before I begin, I must try to stress just how much I think each and every fucking one of you needs, needs, needs to compete. This is something that has been stressed multiple times on this site in the past. Well, guess what? It’s true. It’s so motivating. It’s so inspiring. It’s so FUN. seriously.

Ok, so where do I begin? How about the preparation? Honestly, when I first considered registering for the meet, I seriously doubted that it would do me any good. I was convinced I wanted to focus my training on the olympic lifts, and frankly, I’d rather lick a toilet seat than train the bench press most of the time. But I gave it some serious thought and realized there were a few perks to trying it. It was a good excuse to eat. I had most recently competed in the 63 kilo class at an olympic meet, which left me at least three inches taller than the girls I was competing against and hungry much of the time. The weight classes are a bit different for powerlifting, and I chose to shoot for the 67.5 class. Damn, I’m going to miss those post workout meals. (who am i kidding, i just finished a pound of ground beef as i typed the first paragraph…and i’m not training today) Anyway, it was also a good motivator to get my squat and DL up—I had been losing steam in those lifts. Having the meet marked on my calendar really helped me focus and train with some tangible goal in mind.

So I set my goal—I wanted to meet or exceed a total of 500 lbs. I knew this could be accomplished even if I didn’t make any PRs in the three lifts on the big day. I figured it would pressure me into hitting solid numbers, but allow me to stick with weights I was more or less comfortable with, yet still relatively proud of displaying. Does that make sense? I mean, considering it was my first meet and I had no fucking clue what to expect out of the day, I thought I should be primarily focused on not bombing out while still reasonably challenging myself.

Have I mentioned I hate being hungry? I ate and ate and ate and a week before the meet I realized I may have exceeded the class. Oops! But no worries. The night before I simply soaked in an Epsom salt bath and gave up drinking for a few hours. Saul cooked two pounds of bacon the night before the meet and I packaged it up but saved the fat. The next morning I got up a bit earlier than necessary and used the fat to cook an additional two pounds of grass fed beef. I also hard boiled thirteen eggs and packed up a few slices of beef liver we had cooked recently. (side note—i hope to goodness you all have discovered the incredible, magical strength gaining powers of beef liver. it’s dirt cheap and full of protein, iron, and all sorts of good shit i can’t think of right now. if you don’t already eat it, you must start.) I also cooked up a chinese yam for recovery between sessions. For additional highly dense energy, I threw some shredded coconut in our cooler, as well.

Oh my goodness, it was quite hard to avoid food and liquids before weigh in. I didn’t realize how long it takes to check in at a powerlifting meet. If I have any advice for you, it’s to get there early! I brought along my coffee pot because I know myself well enough to know I wouldn’t perform well if I didn’t at least somehow retain part of my morning habits. So after I weighed in (I was 66.4, a whole kilo under. Looks like my nerves got the best of me and I really didn’t have to get so dizzy in that damn bath—is this another lesson? don’t get so wrapped up in nervous energy that you accidentally act in a self-defeating or destructive manner thinking that you’re doing the right thing?) I made a really fucking strong ass pot of espresso. Heaven. If you haven’t read the research, please do a quick search of the effects coffee has on lifting.



But, damn. I had very little time to warm up my squat. I literally squatted four weights—I didn’t even get to check my nervous system preparedness with the bar. Some douche bag guy started putting weight on the bar in the warm up room even though he wasn’t going to be squatting for another couple hours—what the fuck? i mean, seriously? I meekly requested to squat the weight he had put on before he could put more on, and he let me go. so I did a couple reps with 95 lbs, 135, 155, and 170. I swear it felt like I only had ten minutes to warm up.

Before I knew it, it was time to start. Wait a sec—nobody told me I’d be squatting on carpet. I’ve never squatted on carpet before. Rubber, yes. Wood, uh huh. Carpet, huh? I took the weight—187—out of the rack and struggled to get my feet where I wanted them. My toes weren’t quite at the angle I like and my heels wouldn’t budge. Well, it started to get heavy so I just went with it. It wasn’t comfortable, and it wasn’t a very efficient set up, but I couldn’t dance around on that damn carpet any longer. I’ve also never squatted with a very large, hairy, incredibly intense man hovering one inch away from my ass and yelling various encouragements in my ear, either. Now that was something I should have prepared for. Mildly erotic, moderately distracting.

I was also unfamiliar with the set up of the attempts. Although this was a pleasant surprise! It’s quite nice that each person takes her first attempt before anyone begins her second, regardless of weight on the bar. I was prepared more for something like olympic lifting where you may or may not have only two minutes between attempts, and the bitch before or after you can change the weight of her attempt to catch you when you are still tired or force you to wait until you are cold. lame. So I got a little more comfortable as the next few minutes progressed.

I was also unprepared for the jumps I had to make—2.5 kilos minimum—this meant I had to squat a weight that I thought would be too similar to my opener, or a weight that seemed like a little bit too big of a jump for me. Well, I chose 198 because, well, I don’t know. It turned out to be a bad choice and I missed my second and third attempts. Whoops. You know, it didn’t even feel heavy. I still was a bit shaky in my confidence to set up on that damn carpet (not making excuses, I promise–just an observation about my ‘feelings’ at the time, which as you may know, can get much in the way of a very able and prepared skeletomuscular system). I furiously looked down and searched the floor and stared at my feet as I set up, which can be seen in my videos. Not a very solid start to a squat.

By the time bench rolled around, I had become acquainted with the spotters. They nicknamed me smiley and were incredibly encouraging. It was so great to be surrounded by that intensity and positive energy. What a blast. As I mentioned, I’m not a huge fan of the bench. But in this case it was exhilarating! Again, the jumps were a little tricky for me. After benching what was just under my max, I had to attempt a weight almost five pounds above my max—a pretty big jump for me in an upper body lift, especially considering my attempts were under 100 lbs, meaning each jump was a higher percentage of my attempt to begin with. I normally make one or two pound increases on that lift from week to week. So, that’s definitely something to keep in mind for future training of max attempts in preparation for a meet. These choices can be tricky!

So, about the deadlift. Gosh, that was fun! I feel as though I may be writing too much and you may not actually be interested…but I gotta tell you about this part. So, I opened with 209. Easy. I jumped to 220, which I don’t think I’ve ever actually picked up. See, I hit 225 last June (you may have seen my hysterically excited post about it on the site). But since then, I have not once been able to surpass 215. Mental block? maybe? I don’t know, so I just went for it. EASY! So I was like, shit son—i’m gonna fuckin PR! Let’s do this! So I chose 231, a six pound PR because the jump seemed manageable and the PR didn’t seem too greedy. I was afraid if I got greedy I would be punished with failure. even easier!

The only problem….

I pissed my pants.

A LOT.

Remember that coffee I told you about? Well, yeah. It was now running down my thighs. Thankfully my singlet was tight enough to hold it in until I ran to the showers.

So when the weight was halfway up my thighs, all I could think about was:
1) CAN ANYBODY SEE THIS??!?!!! i can’t get it to stop!
2) if i’m going to piss my pants, i’m definitely not going to fail. i will not set this down. you know, you can’t just piss your pants on a failed attempt, it’s just not worth it.

I didn’t think about my form. I didn’t think about my back. (which on the video i think look lovely)

I just kept pulling and peeing. it was life altering.



So, that’s my day in a nutshell. I’m not sure what else to share, but I must say I learned a few things. Mainly, competing truly legitimizes training. It gave me a concrete goal, a time line to complete that goal, and a day to look forward to where I could share my hard work with my peers. Not only that, but I often get discouraged when I see the numbers other women are capable of pushing around. Not to be negative–I think it’s great–holy shit there are some strong women out there! But I sometimes feel as though my struggle to squat what others around me are benching for reps makes me look like I don’t try hard enough or train seriously enough. But when I was setting up for my lifts, it didn’t matter that my weights were a fraction of some of the other competitors’ lifts—the spotters treated me equally. So did the other lifters. They were all so supportive. They rooted for me just as much. They encouraged just as enthusiastically. They acknowledged that my attempts were heavy—maybe not heavy for them, but to me. At the same time, the crowd got behind every lifter that had the balls to get out there and try. It was a great time to cheer each other on as we all challenged ourselves.

Squatland Yard
My friend Spencer is an editor at the sports site Every Day Should Be Saturday and a contributor to SB Nation. He’s been to one of the 70’s Big Workshops, has written this article about AC, has a gnarly mustache, and refers to himself as “more of a pack mule” regarding conditioning. In other words, he’s a cool dude.

A couple weeks ago he asked me some questions that came from his readers for the first episode of his off-topic podcast, Squatland Yard. What resulted is a random, amusing podcast. Enjoy.

Reckless
Chris and Mike train hard and are reckless. They are both on advanced stages of some kind of TM programming that we’ve tweaked together. Here are a few solid vids.

Here’s Chris squatting 610×2 — more than his old max.


Here is Mike pulling a solid 545×3. He pulled around 580 last summer, and I expect him to break the 600 mark at Militar Nationals in San Antonio.

Additionally, Mike’s brother is a jacked, deep voiced dude who is getting back into training. He smokes an easy 475×3 squat here:


Boom.

There will be a 70’s Big Workshop in Atlanta on March 5, 2011. This new and improved workshop features lectures on getting bigger, stronger, and more conditioned with a large emphasis on programming. Attendees will get handouts of program outlines and guidelines. There will be a lift around session to get form checks/tweaks, learn a new lift, or discuss coaching practice and theory. Then we’ll go to dinner and eat a bunch of animals (alive and dead) while drinking ale. Interested? CLICK HERE for the schedule and more information.

The rack pull is an excellent lift to help with the lockout portion of the deadlift. It is a heavy stress on the hamstrings and the low back, so it fits in with the general programming guidelines of deadlifting in that it shouldn’t be done more than once a week and at higher levels will need to be cycled with other types of pulling.

The low back muscles aim to maintain isometric contraction in order to keep the positioning of the lumbar spine and pelvis constant. The hamstrings rely on the lumbar muscles anchoring the pelvis so that the hamstrings can maintain tension to extend the hip. If the lumbar region rounds, then the pelvis posteriorily tilts and causes the hamstrings to shorten from the proximal attachment at the hips. If the hamstrings are shortened, then they can’t shorten effectively to extend the hip, and this is what they are trying to do at the lockout of a pull.

Back rounding will occur at higher intensities, but that doesn’t mean all training should habitually include this lumbar rounding. Rack pulls should aim to accumulate volume and higher intensities with decent lumbar positioning. It’s an exercise that shouldn’t be trained hardcore unless you’re experienced, especially with deadlifting (assume 12 to 18 months of consistent deadlifting, and a longer duration of accumulated training).

Rack pulls can be done with different heights from different people, so it isn’t easy to compare rack pulls to one another. Be sure to choose an appropriate position on the leg for your rack pulls. The rack pulls that will work the entire lockout the best put the bar right below the patella. This is primarily where I have people pull from, because I want them to work the entire range of motion of the lumbar/hamstring deadlift lock out. Doing them higher will neglect part of that range of motion but will allow much higher loads to be used, but again, I aim for appropriate work given the deadlift mechanics. This doesn’t mean that rack pulls that are pulled from mid-thigh are bad, it’s just that I would reserve them for specialized cases or lifters.

The only available video I have is this grainy piece of shit from Mike’s phone. It’s Chris rack pulling 610×5 — below his meet PR of 633. Having him pull 700+ from mid-thigh for fewer reps would not meet the volume goals we had in doing the set of five as well as not working through the full ROM of the deadlift lockout. Note that his starting position is below the knee cap and the use of straps (multi-rep rack pull sets should use straps so the grip isn’t the limiting factor and so the hands and forearms don’t get rocked). Also note his comically small t-shirt that fit him a few years ago (it has a picture of him and his girlfriend on it).



The rack pull is a great exercise that can help work the lockout ROM of the deadlift. Pulling from below the knee cap will arguably be the most effective method to help increase the deadlift when programmed effectively. Rack pulls work well to get some pulling volume on the hamstrings. I’ve made the observation that most people who low bar back squat don’t have trouble with the first part of a deadlift (or “getting it off the floor”). A combination of a) effective hamstring training during the low bar back squat and b) not being stupid with deadlift attempts (including for sets in training) will eliminate “off the floor” problems. Locking the hips out (via hip extension) when fatigued becomes the limiting factor, and the rack pull helps this. I’m more impressed with rack pull numbers that are pulled from below the knee because they require rigid discipline of the low back and hamstrings as opposed to pulling insanely higher loads from the mid and upper thigh.
Edit: Don’t rack pull with an alternated grip. Getting a biceps strain will be counter productive. Instead, use straps.

For those of you who don’t use Facebook, this 70’s Big Short was posted the other day. You’re welcome.