Mocking the Stupid

Yes, this conversation has taken place at my house. The only reason it hasn't this morning is because... maybe my new keyboard is quieter than the old one.

Yes, this conversation has taken place at my house. The only reason it hasn't this morning is because my new keyboard is quieter than the old one.

Now, I could be coy, and play nice, and suggest that I understand the point of view espoused by Kent R. Rieske, B.Sc., and Bible Life Ministries.

But I won’t, because the man is simply a fucking idiot.

Actually, I don’t believe I’m stating that point strongly enough. However, I’m not going to resort to large fonts and blinking text and various other late-90’s hallmarks of Geocities’ personal pages. Just assume that there are flames, and blood, and skulls, and lots of animated .gifs clustered around the theme of “OH HELL NO.”

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Case of the Mondays

Only got in a lunchtime workout yesterday, due to acute “meh” with a side of DUDE IT’S SHARK WEEK!

In other words, my body had had enough of my overtraining bullshit over the weekend and parked my ass. In a rare fit of good judgement, I grabbed a fistful of Triscuits, a pound of green grapes, and watched Mike Rowe freeze his balls off to tag a Greenland Shark.


Medicine Ball Slams: 3×25 (approx 1 min); 30 sec break between

Plank Holds: 1×30 sec each side, 1×30 sec inverted (ie: facing the ceiling)

Front Tuck Lever: 2×45 sec

FTL pullups: 2×10

Assorted stretching

Ow, my ass

This is not a direct reflection on the DOMS incurred from Tuesday’s squat session, but is instead a reaction to getting several CCs of antibiotics injected to begin the fight against some unwanted microbial interlopers.

Don’t have to take any time off, other than missing the last two evenings.

Overhead press will happen tomorrow, deadlifts Saturday, and bench as usual on Sunday.

Not sure if I’ll do anything special with the deads for my birthday, but we’ll see.

Today’s lunchtime workout was stolen straight from T-Nat.

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[WotD] Monday, July 19

15/9/3 – Squats

Today was short and sweet, but not without its notable moments.

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Taking Laps

Not pictured: author, kettlebell, good sense

Lunch was a run, outdoors, because even in the face of Florida in July, I couldn’t stomach the thought of another treadmill session.

2.25 miles in 16:30, and, yes, it was quite sweaty and unpleasant, thank you. Followed that up with some front levers (tucked and one-legged).

After work, since I had some late-day frustration to work off, and a willing victim sucker companion in Big Dog, we took The Long Walk, but with just one kettlebell each. The asymmetry of the carry was good on the obliques, and the ability to rest one hand or the other’s grip meant no stopping (due to forearm fatigue, or anything else).

Of course, I forgot to start my fucking watch, so I have no idea how long it took. I’d ballpark around 21 minutes. This could become a regular after-work thing, since it’s easy, and companionable, yet still something with a bit of challenge to it. I could see choosing a heavier dumbbell or something to up the ante, or some similar thing.

New Workout Partners

Bell and kettlebell

Bell and my kettlebell. Yes, the cat is really that small.

They are the youngest of three sets of feral kittens that have popped out this month, and their mother has sequestered them in the garage (since the other two litters are under the front of the house).

Despite being the more bold of the two, the white one with spots (pictured above) will be Bell, because the other one is a dark tiger tortoiseshell, which is a lot closer to black.

1st Generatoion (2007):
– Bullseye (tortoiseshell female)
– Eyebrows (blue-eyed, white male)

2nd Generation (2008):
– B-2 (tortoiseshell female, Bullseye’s daughter)
– Skeet (white & spotted male, Bullseye’s son)

3rd Generation (2009):
– Rufus (black female, Bullseye’s granddaughter)
– Mini-Skeet (white & spotted male, Bullseye’s 2nd litter)
– B-3 (tortoiseshell female, Bullseye’s 2nd litter)

4th Generation (2010):
– Before (B-4), During, and After (Bullseye’s 3rd litter – light, medium, and dark tortoiseshell, respectively)
– Belfry (black) & Shingle (tortoiseshell)  (Rufus’ 1st litter, Bullseye’s great-grandchildren)
– Kettle and Bell (B-2’s 1st litter, Bullseye’s grandchildren)

The father of record for, at least, Bullseye and probably some of the subsequent offspring, is a brindle tomcat from a couple blocks away. There is also a stocky black male with white feet of unknown origin that shows up occasionally and generally gets growled at by all comers. Eyebrows is, apparently, bisexual, since he was trying to breed Skeet/Mini-skeet last year (my guess is he figured out what he should be doing and knocked up B-2, though it’s possible they’re one of the Skeets’ progeny).

Hereditary traits seem to be boldness in the brindles (Bullseye can be picked up and more or less demands head rubs), skittishness in the blacks (Rufus’ mother was “Skitz,” and they both look and act very wary, and aren’t shy about giving a big, pink-mouthed hiss at any gesture in their direction), and mellowness in the whites with brindle spots (both Skeets, though Bell is a fairly aggressive and hissy little thing, considering it could be stuffed in a coffee cup with room to spare).

I’d call it a comeback if Ice T wouldn’t kick my ass.

There's a pair of these among the mis-matched 45s in my garage.… or is it Ice Cube?

I know it’s definitely not Vanilla Ice.

Wow, how much do I suck – Google points out that it was LL Cool J.

Yea, verily, my suburban, white-bread upbringing has left me woefully insufficiently knowledgeable about early 90’s rappers. I know all three gentlemen act, in the sense that they’ve sometimes been in moderately successful television shows and uniformly, laughably bad goddamned movies. I can tell them apart, I just couldn’t remember which one of them said that line.

Anyhow, as has become apparent, despite the pulled muscle from softball (my best guess is upper oblique/lower serratus anterior based on a glance at stuff like this), now that my back is more or less un-fucked (I am a whore for traction in addition to adjustment), picking up and getting under real weight feels pretty damn good.

It’s also been reassuringly heartening to find that, while a fair amount of ground had been lost between the de-load and the injury-enforced downtime, I’m coming back fairly quickly to where I’d expect to be. Basically, I’m starting the second wave of my program as if I’d only taken a one week break, instead of six, so despite feeling a little bit weak and struggly the first time through, this second week has felt much better, and some of the results are pleasantly surprising in terms of progressive gains vs. the previous week.

Things are going to continue to be controlled and disciplined in terms of increasing loads – five pounds a week for overhead press, ten for bench, and ten to twenty for squats and deads (top set will be determined by the feel of the warmup and precursors, since these are the ones most directly affected by the back strain). I want to be able to keep working in the 3×5 set/rep range as long as possible before having to ratchet back to 3×3, though I may experiment and go to 5×3 – Saan and my coworker (“Hitman”) have both suggested, separately, that I may have more fast-twitch muscle fibers than I initially believed, and they respond better to more sets of low reps.

Frankly, I’m just happy to be picking up shit that weighs more than I do without discomfort again.