Are you all-NBA too?

I couldn't help but noticing that recently I've neglected the ridiculous concoction of my imagination known as that story which originally constituted the entirety of this blog's content. Fret not zero readers (in truth according to a nifty little tool known as google analytics there are in all probability 3 unique visitors to this blog on average everyday and I'm one of them. Wow, that must be like some kind of record.) it's a new year, and new ideas flow through my veins like heady little anti bodies ready to destroy all unwanted intruders (does this explain my overwhelming readership numbers, zero readers? Allusions to destructive forces with tenuous connections to the original statement made. Perhaps it's my over analysis of my own thought process or my ability to change tack on a dime.) Today I went to the gym. Yesterday I read an article on t-nation by Charles Poliquin, he says among many, many other things that a key indicator of athletic ability is how much you can pull when power snatching. I'm all NBA as I've said in the past: a Natural Born Athlete. Today I power snatched, it looked something like this:

The results weren't as big as I'd hoped, but reasonable overall. Tomorrow I'll start up some more blogs. There's no intelligible reason for this. Just for fun though, check out http://goproat30.blogspot.com/, which will document my little journey to Australia to play Rugby League or How I Got Published which didn't actually happen unless you count e-publishing, but if you're itching for the story that's where it will once again be on display (it'll still be here too, bonus!).

***UPDATE***

I'm not doing "How I Got Published" now. It's a dead link. I've recently discovered that there are services that can automatically agregate all your internet content. So instead of cutting and pasting everything I post here, SliModSoc will continue as it was without theme or reason and the other two blogs will run independantly and one day I'll start up a storytlr account.

workout>>

sumo deadlift 130*6,170*5,200*4,220*3

home snatch 40*5,60*5,70*3,75, 80 (missed on first, hit on second attempt)

looking at the unseen

Bereft of the tools consequent to achieving the unattainable levels of awesomeness so desired, I delivered my ignoble machinations to the feet of other, more worthy adherents of the code. My offerings unappreciated, and abilities still lacking I resolved to continue in the original course predetermined by leaders that I had committed to follow, yet never had met; a peculiar loyalty that I had failed to question, spoiled by my singular focus in achieving a design which was as much a mystery to me as they were. Better a life of meaning as defined by others than the existential angst of the unknown, although a silent voice kept telling me I could never be sure.


work out>>
pull ups me*19
bench 100*4,102.5*3,100*3
pull ups me/2*10
OH squat, 60/3*3
power snatch 60,70

the time is nigh at hand

My younger years included little in the way of physical activity (or any other type of activity for that matter). I was born under a small bridge in the south of Auckland and my parents tell me that I'm at least half troll. Do you have any idea what kind of impact that type of lineage has on a youngster? For a significant portion of my life I was forced into hiding as to conceal my monstrous awesomeness from the rest of humanity. Moving around during the day proved difficult as direct sunlight had the unfortunate of effect of transforming me into stone. Damn that hole in the ozone layer. During the day if I needed to venture out of the house in order to procure appropriate sized morsels of sustenance, I was forced to wear a long coat and hat similar to that of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles of the early nineties, except that I was a child and the only thing retailers stocked in my size were those shiny yellow plastic raincoats (with hat). Looking back it was a regrettable fashion choice, but these items helped protect my delicate skin from the suns harmful rays. I owe them a huge debt of gratitude. I could go on, but suffice it to say that my mobility was limited (troll anatomy takes a lot of getting used to), my will blase, and my surroundings unhelpful for my over all physical development.

As it was I eventually grew up. My aversion or more correctly my extreme allergic reaction to sunlight faded. My night prowls for the dead carcasses of creatures, which shall remain unnamed here, payed off in the form of extreme physical prowess, a recently developed habit of lifting large metal objects could have also been a contributing factor. So, I decided it was time to unleash the beast for good, but not here in New Zealand, a troll is never accepted in his own country, except by unscrupulous means. I'll conduct an experiment in Australia with myself as the test subject: playing rugby league in the number one rugby league nation on the planet (NZ's world cup victory notwithstanding). The most difficult thing will be that I may have to start up another blog (again) to cover it. I'm not so sure how successful a blog that covers randomly assorted topics (as this one is presently constituted) can be numbers wise. Going niche seems to be the way of the world now days. People who are interested in writing are probably uninterested in my sporting pursuits. Then again this is my blog and the content is up to me. People may not care what I did for my last workout, but here it is anyway (hey, I warned you I was half-troll):

OHP 50/3*8
Chins me/3*8
Power snatch 60/10*1
front squat 60/2*10

on gyming it up 3

here's part 2

Health, the converse of the above afflictions which are commonly incumbent on the human condition, is therefore a worthy pursuit and a natural consequence of the tenets espoused by Enlightenment thinkers. Unfortunately doctors, the high priests of modernity[1], have not been wholly successful in actualizing this Enlightenment ideal. Great strides have been taken in the elimination of many diseases to be sure, but the terrifying spectre of death still remains. Short of confronting this fact head on as Camus suggests[2], many men have been content to make the most of what time they have by pursuing this concept of health at gyms as a form of recreation. We certainly have other apparatus’ at our disposal to deal with the stark reality of our mortality (drugs come to mind), but they are more or less distractions, whereas, gym going is one particular activity that continues the spirit of the Enlightenment as far as taming nature is concerned. It may be of small consolation, but a healthy life style is the next best thing that we have to a cure for death. The enlightenment ideal is still alive then, but now modified; men, generally speaking, seek to live for as long as possible in the most ideal way possible. “If you haven’t got your health you haven’t got anything[3].”

What's this, a work out?
front squat 20*10,40*30,20,10
power C&J 60*3,100
power snatch 60*3, 70


[1] Cook: Medicine in Advanced Modernity, p 10
[2] Camus: The Myth of Sisyphus, p 3
[3] Reiner: The Princess Bride

body for life + 1 month - dieting =

For the before pic click here. Sometimes I even amaze myself. Damn I'm one stunningly white, white boy.

Deadlift 140*5; 180/3*5 (cycled through 3 different grips)

power snatch 60*5,70*5 (last 3 reps: extremly ugly)

volume: 4050 kgs

A moment of silence...

Randy Couture lost to Brock Lesnar. Cpt. America got beat, a sad day. I drowned my sorrows doing this...


box squat (high) 60/2*20;10
power snatch: 60/1*10
volume: 3600kgs

escape from imminent destruction

Getting stapled is not a flattering experience. What it is, is simply a failure in an attempt to lift a weight, resulting in the entire gym populace laughing in your face while you try to rack or deload the weight without causing yourself grievous bodily harm. The ego hit is always bad, but things can and do get uglier: last week I saw a guy drop a barbel on his head while benching pressing. In less than 2 minutes it looked like he had a plumb growing out the side of his face. Kids, always use a spotter! I don't recommend getting stapled, the psychological and physical damage just isn't worth it. Conversely some of the most satisfying moments you can have in the gym are when you straddle staple territory and somehow complete your lift. Today I had one of those moments. I was benching. The weight, which was underwhelming as usual, slowed as it came off my chest. Gravity my, arch nemesis in the weight room, thought it had claimed another victory. I think that the bar actually reversed in it's motion momentarily, my gym life flashed before eyes and I decided that I didn't feel like eating any barbell today. I squirmed, I cursed sub-vocally, I bargained with the weight and still it didn't budge. I clenched my but-cheeks and for some reason felt like I was going to tear asunder from my crotch on upwards. Then it happened, like Deus ex machina, except my escape wasn't facilitated by an outward source it was all internal. I finished the lift and lived to see another day. Words can't explain how satisfying this feels.

power snatch: 40*3, 45*3, 50*3, 55, 60, 65, 70, 75
power C&J: 80, 85, 90, 95
bench 60*10, 80*5, 85*5, 90*4
chins (n) me (97kgs)/3*8, 6
db OHP 2(20)/3*10

volume:

The anthropic workout

Call me a hopeless romantic but I like the idea that I am the consciousness of the universe experiencing itself deadlifting. That makes the neurons of my joy centre fire like an AK47 at a KGB/CIA family reunion. Is this the truth or just an existential comfort? I don't care, during the time between when my workout starts and finishes, my muse attends me, it's poetry and for now that's enough.

deadlift (oly grip) 160/3*6

power snatch 60/2*5

overhead squat 60/2*5

volume 4080kgs

Anything is possible!

Every time I watch this clip, I shed a tear and I'm inspired all over agian. Kevin Garnett, thank you, thank you for saying what nobody else could!

3/4 Chins me/2*8

front squat 60/2*10; 8o*10

hang snatch 40*5

power snatch 60/2*3

volume: 4080kgs