Fully expecting to scrape my numb and lifeless body from the rack with a snow shovel, I tested the extremities with caution this morning. All systems were go, flux-capacitor… fluxing. With confidence high and ego in tow, I set out for the battleground. A familiar soundtrack on mental repeat, “Conformity is a head shot from the societal revolver.” This is just another day, while the surplus of the populace stares at pine needles and pulsating lights; I establish superiority. Time to provide direct physical evidence; show them how you earn it.
This was one of the most beneficial workouts I’ve done to date, offering more than the obligatory dementia and daily endorphin fix. I shot video, which was truly revealing: Moving such loads with speed has drastic effects on capacity. I pulled the first set of deads quickly and efficiently. I found throughout the workout, the body weight exercises (assuming they weren’t used as rest) were taxing enough to maintain vacuum pressure assuring continued O2 depletion. I handled the pull-ups, ring dips, and front squats in unbroken sets. I reached the jerks with ~3:20 expired. At this point, my exploits came to a screeching halt. They picked me apart, like a tenured Ph.D. proof-reading a third grader’s thesis. By default, the penalty for a failed rep or dropping the bar was a 225# clean. I executed four of those; always good for morale. My blitzkrieg approach was taking its toll. I needed every second of rest to get the weight overhead. If it felt like perpetuity, in fact, it was. Six plus minutes were lost in a solo effort circle jerk. The remainder was cookie cutter, only breaking the last set of deadlifts 5-5-3-2.
While manning the broom and sweeping up my dismembered ego, I started to wrap my mind around the events. Conversations regarding the consequences of poor form under heavy load are enlightening. Working the same movement repetitively with substantial weight reinforces efficiency and technique. However, execution under extreme fatigue proved a different animal. You needed adequate recovery for the heavy jerks. A lesson I should have extracted from the 225# C+Js earlier this week. If I missed that opportunity for retention, I certainly could’ve resorted to my theory on failed attempts. Observably, neither of which I decided pertinent prior to the stepping to the bar for the interesting self-inflicted modification: Gaggle Fucks x 5. “Rest” assured, this remedial session in frustration has ingrained these parameters. I left the war torn turf today beat by my own program, but carrying invaluable experience into the next crusade.
11:47 Is it possible for a lifeless body to come back from the dead? I'm not exactly sure how one insidious wod after the next, without adequate rest, could end up in a relatively satisfying experience. The combination of barbell and body weight movements, challenging loads, reps schemes, and the demand for precision execution made this wod challenging for so many different reasons. Every wod requires a different approach, i.e. bulldog tenacity, finesse, patience, ferocity, or a delicate combination of push and pull, all ending in a strategic crescendo of satisfaction and victory. My strategy was to blast through the d-lifts, pull ups and squats while taking the appropriate amount of rest on the ring dips and doing five singles on the jerks. Standing over the bar as calm as a sea of liquid nails, I reached down and sank my hooks into the cold and lifeless bar; the pilot pulling on the shifter, and the human crane coming to life. Fifteen reps in fifteen seconds. Slow and steady wins this race. Breath deep, blowing off the refuse, and sucking in the green gas; turn it into steam and go again. 20 pull ups, no problem. Front squats are generally a push over but my hips were still in lay up from the thrusters. 5/5; not a deal breaker. Ring dips 12/8. Preparation for impaling the heart of this beast demanded caution. In all of my dablbing with 225# overhead I had never prefatigued the major players this way. Form was more important than ever. Dropping the bar was not an option. Solution: recall the troops and go to defcon four. One jerk, rerack, rest, and jerk again. In the requisite five reps my form and confidence evolved to a new level with this weight. I have never tried jerking this weight from the rack and didn't know what to expect when catching it. A little pain in the wrists but worth the confidence it inspired. Bottom line: I suck at jerking weight and continutously fall short of a solid lock out. I might still suck but my mind believes otherwise. Down hill from the jerks but doing 315# for fifteen reps proved to be more formidable than imagined. I broke at nine reps as the steel cables in my hamstrings began to scream with unfettered pain. I experienced one more break at 11 or 12 I think. Wrestling 315# head on like this has changed what my body thinks is possible, what my mind percieves as reasonable, rational, doable, appropriate, and cordial. Wrap this wod in a wheelchair and give it someone you love.
I can't stress the importance of video analysis, especially when trying to learn lifts that are generally reserved for competition lifters and not weekend warriors and paranormal stormtroopers. Example, although I feel like I can manhandle the weight on the jerk my form looks like a chocolate covered macadamia nut on a hot date. We have to look for our weaknesses with an undaunted passion. It's human nature to obfuscate the truth, to cover a blemish with cheap make up, or sugar coat the truth with fiction and fudge. Believe me that better realities exist.
turbo. 158bw. rx. 18:10
ReplyDeleteFully expecting to scrape my numb and lifeless body from the rack with a snow shovel, I tested the extremities with caution this morning. All systems were go, flux-capacitor… fluxing. With confidence high and ego in tow, I set out for the battleground. A familiar soundtrack on mental repeat, “Conformity is a head shot from the societal revolver.” This is just another day, while the surplus of the populace stares at pine needles and pulsating lights; I establish superiority. Time to provide direct physical evidence; show them how you earn it.
This was one of the most beneficial workouts I’ve done to date, offering more than the obligatory dementia and daily endorphin fix. I shot video, which was truly revealing: Moving such loads with speed has drastic effects on capacity. I pulled the first set of deads quickly and efficiently. I found throughout the workout, the body weight exercises (assuming they weren’t used as rest) were taxing enough to maintain vacuum pressure assuring continued O2 depletion. I handled the pull-ups, ring dips, and front squats in unbroken sets. I reached the jerks with ~3:20 expired. At this point, my exploits came to a screeching halt. They picked me apart, like a tenured Ph.D. proof-reading a third grader’s thesis. By default, the penalty for a failed rep or dropping the bar was a 225# clean. I executed four of those; always good for morale. My blitzkrieg approach was taking its toll. I needed every second of rest to get the weight overhead. If it felt like perpetuity, in fact, it was. Six plus minutes were lost in a solo effort circle jerk. The remainder was cookie cutter, only breaking the last set of deadlifts 5-5-3-2.
While manning the broom and sweeping up my dismembered ego, I started to wrap my mind around the events. Conversations regarding the consequences of poor form under heavy load are enlightening. Working the same movement repetitively with substantial weight reinforces efficiency and technique. However, execution under extreme fatigue proved a different animal. You needed adequate recovery for the heavy jerks. A lesson I should have extracted from the 225# C+Js earlier this week. If I missed that opportunity for retention, I certainly could’ve resorted to my theory on failed attempts. Observably, neither of which I decided pertinent prior to the stepping to the bar for the interesting self-inflicted modification: Gaggle Fucks x 5. “Rest” assured, this remedial session in frustration has ingrained these parameters. I left the war torn turf today beat by my own program, but carrying invaluable experience into the next crusade.
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ReplyDelete11:47
ReplyDeleteIs it possible for a lifeless body to come back from the dead? I'm not exactly sure how one insidious wod after the next, without adequate rest, could end up in a relatively satisfying experience. The combination of barbell and body weight movements, challenging loads, reps schemes, and the demand for precision execution made this wod challenging for so many different reasons. Every wod requires a different approach, i.e. bulldog tenacity, finesse, patience, ferocity, or a delicate combination of push and pull, all ending in a strategic crescendo of satisfaction and victory. My strategy was to blast through the d-lifts, pull ups and squats while taking the appropriate amount of rest on the ring dips and doing five singles on the jerks. Standing over the bar as calm as a sea of liquid nails, I reached down and sank my hooks into the cold and lifeless bar; the pilot pulling on the shifter, and the human crane coming to life. Fifteen reps in fifteen seconds. Slow and steady wins this race. Breath deep, blowing off the refuse, and sucking in the green gas; turn it into steam and go again. 20 pull ups, no problem. Front squats are generally a push over but my hips were still in lay up from the thrusters. 5/5; not a deal breaker. Ring dips 12/8. Preparation for impaling the heart of this beast demanded caution. In all of my dablbing with 225# overhead I had never prefatigued the major players this way. Form was more important than ever. Dropping the bar was not an option. Solution: recall the troops and go to defcon four. One jerk, rerack, rest, and jerk again. In the requisite five reps my form and confidence evolved to a new level with this weight. I have never tried jerking this weight from the rack and didn't know what to expect when catching it. A little pain in the wrists but worth the confidence it inspired. Bottom line: I suck at jerking weight and continutously fall short of a solid lock out. I might still suck but my mind believes otherwise.
Down hill from the jerks but doing 315# for fifteen reps proved to be more formidable than imagined. I broke at nine reps as the steel cables in my hamstrings began to scream with unfettered pain. I experienced one more break at 11 or 12 I think. Wrestling 315# head on like this has changed what my body thinks is possible, what my mind percieves as reasonable, rational, doable, appropriate, and cordial.
Wrap this wod in a wheelchair and give it someone you love.
I can't stress the importance of video analysis, especially when trying to learn lifts that are generally reserved for competition lifters and not weekend warriors and paranormal stormtroopers. Example, although I feel like I can manhandle the weight on the jerk my form looks like a chocolate covered macadamia nut on a hot date. We have to look for our weaknesses with an undaunted passion. It's human nature to obfuscate the truth, to cover a blemish with cheap make up, or sugar coat the truth with fiction and fudge. Believe me that better realities exist.
ReplyDelete