Just For Laughs!

A cartoon depicting the "CrossFit" culture:

Plan on Getting a Flu Shot? - Watch this!

I feel terrible for this girl. I don't care how small the chances are of this happening. Why in the hell take a risk in the first place? If you eat a healthy diet and exercise then your immune system should be strong. Giving yourself a small dose of a virus to build up an immunity is just plain crazy in my opinion. You don't see people taking shots with a small dose of "aids" or anything else. So why do it with the flu? Wash your hands, eat a healthy diet and be active. Your body is made to fight off bacteria, viruses, germs, etc. I feel the "flu shot" is just another way for someone to make money. This is just my opinion.

What do you think about the flu shot?

A Senior Athlete's Letter to Dad and Mom

I stumbled across this today. I think it is a great read for parents, coaches and athletes. It was originally published in the Seattle Times. I have reposted it here for you to read.

Editor's note: Parents always offer their sons and daughters advice — some sound, all of it well-intentioned — as their young athletes navigate their high-school sports careers. Times reader Frank Workman imagines the advice a senior might give to parents in a letter that serves as a primer for how to make the prep experience truly special.

Dear Mom and Dad,

As I've gotten older you've always been there to offer encouragement, advice and good wishes. It has helped mold me into the athlete and student I am today. This time, I want to turn the tables and do the same for you, especially since this is my senior year, and likely to be my last time playing organized sports.

There have been times before, during or after games when you've said or done something that has annoyed me. I realize you've meant no harm, but I want to spell things out for you so the memories we take from this last year will be good ones.

First, I want to thank you for respecting my wishes, letting me play a variety of sports, and not making me specialize in one.

The money you spent for me to play on various select teams wasn't a guarantee that I would ever become good enough to play college ball. Look, I know I'm not going to get an athletic scholarship. I've learned something about genetics in biology class.

I have your genes, which explains why I'm not 6 feet 10, 275 pounds and can't run the hundred in 10-flat. Don't blame me for not playing at the next level — look in the mirror.

Just kidding. I wouldn't change a thing about me — or you.

Try to see the season from my point of view.

The perspective the two of you get is going to be entirely different from mine. I'll be learning life lessons in the "nontraditional classroom" high-school sports represent. I'll be learning what dedication and commitment means.

I'm also going to experience the fun times, too, moments you can't be any part of, like the 10 minutes in the locker room right before and after games, the bus rides to and from games, and the silly times in the dugout or locker room when I'm just being a kid.

Get the other parents on the team to sit together at our games.
You and the other parents get to have fun, too, as you root for us all season. It's sort of like getting on a ride at Disneyland, with all the ups and downs, thrills and spills.

Here's a golden opportunity for a couple of old fogies like you to make some new friends, and when was the last time that happened?

Cheer for my teammates, not just me.

Go out of your way to get to know some of the others on the team. I am not the only story. Every player has their own story.

They're just our opponents — they're not our enemies.

It's OK with me if you acknowledge a good play or effort by an opponent. You know, those kids are just like me, they just live in a different town. They probably like the same music and movies we do, and there's not much difference between us, other than the color of the uniform.

The team comes first. Not me.

Our coaches do a great job of instilling team values in us, to put aside any selfishness in favor of our common effort. If any of us are unhappy about our playing time, the position we're playing, or the way we're being treated, they want us to come to them and talk about it.

Just because you disagree with the coach, doesn't mean he or she is an idiot.

My head coaches have earned the right to decide who plays. They probably spend 750 to 1,000 hours a year on their sport — planning practices, watching game film, game-planning for each week's opponent, running practices and coaching games, not to mention attending coaching clinics, dealing with paperwork and keeping in touch with players all year.

They spend more waking hours during the season with us than their own families. I see more of them each week than I do you during the season.

Dad, I know how much you love sports, and how much you think you know about them from your playing days and watching games year after year. You know a little about a lot of sports. My coaches are the world's greatest experts on one subject — my team.

If you want a relationship with my coaches, make sure it's a supportive one. Thank them for their hard work, be appreciative of all they do and be thankful (as I am) that we have them on our side.

After the game, give me some time to regroup.

If you want to analyze and rehash the game in-depth, I'll do it with you, but won't it keep until the next morning?

When the game is over, don't expect me to be all chatty and happy to talk, at least not right away. Games are physically, mentally and emotionally draining. Everybody's nerves are raw right after a game. Give me time to decompress, to think through what happened and what the coaches said afterward before you start peppering me with all sorts of "what happened?" questions.

Playing in games with my buddies might just be the most fun I'll have in my life.

We've talked about what it's like for me during high-pressure situations, about how your stomachs get twisted into a knot, and how mom sometimes has to hide her eyes.

But I'm so busy playing, so locked in and focused on what I'm doing, that I don't have time to think about what happens if I drop the pass, miss the shot, or strike out.

What you call pressure is fun for me.

Everybody says playing sports builds character. You've told me that yourself. My coaches say that, while it's true, there is a greater truth to be said about sports.
Playing sports reveals character.

My final season has just begun. I hope the character I reveal makes you proud of me. I hope that I, too, can be proud of you.

Now I have to go, it's time for practice.

Here's to a great season.

Love,
Your Child


Frank Workman, 59, started attending high-school games in the late 1950s. The Lake Forest Park resident roots for Shorecrest when he's not announcing their games or watching other schools play.

Easy, Quick and Healthy Chili

With the weather turning cooler I am sure almost everyone enjoys a good bowl of chili. Whether you goal is fat loss, maintenance or muscle gain this recipe will fit the bill. Give it a try and let me know what you think in the comments down below!

Client Recognition

Jason (3) dominating (again).

I am blessed to have so many motivated, great clients. I opened the sports section of our local newspaper again yesterday and I'll be damn if I didn't have another client front and center. Then I read the article and another client, Chase Caldwell, had a hell of a write up about him:

"Chase Caldwell has become the
player through which the Heath soccer
team’s offense funnels. Caldwell had
two goals and an assist as the Pirates
won the First District title for the fifth
time in six seasons with a 5-0 washout
of Paducah Tilghman in Thursday
night’s final at Reidland.
“He’s played that way all season,
and he’s starting to get noticed
throughout the state,” Heath coach
Mark Madison said. “He can score and
he’s an unselfish player that can set up
his teammates.”
Caldwell leads the Pirates in goals
and assists, following up his
hat trick in the semifinal win
over St. Mary with a pair of
first-half goals in the championship
game. Jason Straub
attacked the goal from the left
side, pulled goalkeeper Jonathan
Renfro off his line and
scooted a pass to Caldwell in
front of the goal.
“I like to take the ball to the
corner and get it to someone
that can score, or I can come
back to the middle,” Caldwell
said. “I think we have the potential
to win it again. We’re
playing a lot better now than
we were in the first part of the
season.”

I couldn't be happier to have such great, hard working clients. They bust there ass in the gym and on the field. Congrats to Jason and Chase for winning the district championship. They are now playing for the regional championship. Good luck!


I also want to congratulate Jay Pitman on another great showing. Jay ran in the Chicago marathon last weekend finishing 13,800 out of 45,000 overall. He was unsure of what he finished in his age bracket but I can guarantee you it was damn good. He finished in 4 hours and 11 minutes. The crazy part is Jay didn't do any running preparing for this race. He had some problems with his TFL/IT band and had only been swimming and biking since that didn't bother it. After a while of intense foam rolling and taking a break from running it was back to normal. He had sent his entry in many months before so he went ahead and decided to run it.

Soccer Season #2

Jared Sigler going for a header.

A few weeks ago I posted "Soccer Season" mentioning my 3 in season soccer players. I just wanted to give Jared Sigler some recognition for last nights win. And also for making the front of the sports section in The Paducah Sun newspaper.



Tonight Paducah Tilghman will be playing Heath Pirates in the District playoffs. I can't pick a favorite since I have players on each team. The funny thing about it is, they all train together in the same group. Good Luck Guys!

Episode 2 - "Goal: To Be A Strong Son Of A Bitch"

How about an extra 7K a week?

As the days grow shorter so does the importance of your 6-pack. Sure, we all like the be lean in the spring and summer months but fall is moving in fast. This is the time of the year to take advantage of and gain some serious muscle. By adding this shake to your diet every day you will increase your calorie intake per week by over 7,000 calories a week. So stop bitching about not being able to gain weight, throw away your sugar laden GNC Super-Mega-Weight-Gainer-Supreme shake and drink this!

INCHES

I remember the first time I heard this speech way back in high school. It was one of those things that you just don't forget. It gave me chills then and still does. I have listened to this probably 100 times since. Want to get fired up before a training session? Before a big game? Or just to get your ass motivated?

Then listen to this:

Episode 1 - "Goal: To Be A Strong Son Of A Bitch"

Below is the first of many weekly episodes in which I document my preparation for my next strongman competition. Enjoy!

IRON

This should be read by all of those in the iron game.

IRON, from Details Magazine
By Henry Rollins

I believe that the definition of definition is reinvention. To not be like your parents. To not be like your friends. To be yourself.

Completely.

When I was young I had no sense of myself. All I was, was a product of all the fear and humiliation I suffered. Fear of my parents. The humiliation of teachers calling me "garbage can" and telling me I'd be mowing lawns for a living. And the very real terror of my fellow students. I was threatened and beaten up for the color of my skin and my size. I was skinny and clumsy, and when others would tease me I didn't run home crying, wondering why. I knew all too well. I was there to be antagonized. In sports I was laughed at. A spaz. I was pretty good at boxing but only because the rage that filled my every waking moment made me wild and unpredictable. I fought with some strange fury. The other boys thought I was crazy.

I hated myself all the time. As stupid at it seems now, I wanted to talk like them, dress like them, carry myself with the ease of knowing that I wasn't going to get pounded in the hallway between classes. Years passed and I learned to keep it all inside. I only talked to a few boys in my grade. Other losers. Some of them are to this day the greatest people I have ever known. Hang out with a guy who has had his head flushed down a toilet a few times, treat him with respect, and you'll find a faithful friend forever. But even with friends, school sucked. Teachers gave me hard time. I didn't think much of them either.

Then came Mr. Pepperman, my advisor. He was a powerfully built Vietnam veteran, and he was scary. No one ever talked out of turn in his class. Once one kid did and Mr. P. lifted him off the ground and pinned him to the blackboard. Mr. P. could see that I was in bad shape, and one Friday in October he asked me if I had ever worked out with weights. I told him no. He told me that I was going to take some of the money that I had saved and buy a hundred-pound set of weights at Sears. As I left his office, I started to think of things I would say to him on Monday when he asked about the weights that I was not going to buy. Still, it made me feel special. My father never really got that close to caring. On Saturday I bought the weights, but I couldn't even drag them to my mom's car. An attendant laughed at me as he put them on a dolly.

Monday came and I was called into Mr. P.'s office after school. He said that he was going to show me how to work out. He was going to put me on a program and start hitting me in the solar plexus in the hallway when I wasn't looking. When I could take the punch we would know that we were getting somewhere. At no time was I to look at myself in the mirror or tell anyone at school what I was doing. In the gym he showed me ten basic exercises. I paid more attention than I ever did in any of my classes. I didn't want to blow it. I went home that night and started right in.

Weeks passed, and every once in a while Mr. P. would give me a shot and drop me in the hallway, sending my books flying. The other students didn't know what to think. More weeks passed, and I was steadily adding new weights to the bar. I could sense the power inside my body growing. I could feel it.

Right before Christmas break I was walking to class, and from out of nowhere Mr. Pepperman appeared and gave me a shot in the chest. I laughed and kept going. He said I could look at myself now. I got home and ran to the bathroom and pulled off my shirt. I saw a body, not just the shell that housed my stomach and my heart. My biceps bulged. My chest had definition. I felt strong. It was the first time I can remember having a sense of myself. I had done something and no one could ever take it away. You couldn't say shit to me.

It took me years to fully appreciate the value of the lessons I have learned from the Iron. I used to think that it was my adversary, that I was trying to lift that which does not want to be lifted. I was wrong. When the Iron doesn't want to come off the mat, it's the kindest thing it can do for you. If it flew up and went through the ceiling, it wouldn't teach you anything. That's the way the Iron talks to you. It tells you that the material you work with is that which you will come to resemble. That which you work against will always work against you.

It wasn't until my late twenties that I learned that by working out I had given myself a great gift. I learned that nothing good comes without work and a certain amount of pain. When I finish a set that leaves me shaking, I know more about myself. When something gets bad, I know it can't be as bad as that workout.

I used to fight the pain, but recently this became clear to me: pain is not my enemy; it is my call to greatness. But when dealing with the Iron, one must be careful to interpret the pain correctly. Most injuries involving the Iron come from ego. I once spent a few weeks lifting weight that my body wasn't ready for and spent a few months not picking up anything heavier than a fork. Try to lift what you're not prepared to and the Iron will teach you a little lesson in restraint and self-control.

I have never met a truly strong person who didn't have self-respect. I think a lot of inwardly and outwardly directed contempt passes itself off as self-respect: the idea of raising yourself by stepping on someone's shoulders instead of doing it yourself. When I see guys working out for cosmetic reasons, I see vanity exposing them in the worst way, as cartoon characters, billboards for imbalance and insecurity. Strength reveals itself through character. It is the difference between bouncers who get off strong-arming people and Mr. Pepperman.

Muscle mass does not always equal strength. Strength is kindness and sensitivity. Strength is understanding that your power is both physical and emotional. That it comes from the body and the mind. And the heart.

Yukio Mishima said that he could not entertain the idea of romance if he was not strong. Romance is such a strong and overwhelming passion, a weakened body cannot sustain it for long. I have some of my most romantic thoughts when I am with the Iron. Once I was in love with a woman. I thought about her the most when the pain from a workout was racing through my body.

Everything in me wanted her. So much so that sex was only a fraction of my total desire. It was the single most intense love I have ever felt, but she lived far away and I didn't see her very often. Working out was a healthy way of dealing with the loneliness. To this day, when I work out I usually listen to ballads.

I prefer to work out alone. It enables me to concentrate on the lessons that the Iron has for me. Learning about what you're made of is always time well spent, and I have found no better teacher. The Iron had taught me how to live. Life is capable of driving you out of your mind. The way it all comes down these days, it's some kind of miracle if you're not insane. People have become separated from their bodies. They are no longer whole.

I see them move from their offices to their cars and on to their suburban homes. They stress out constantly, they lose sleep, they eat badly. And they behave badly. Their egos run wild; they become motivated by that which will eventually give them a massive stroke. They need the Iron Mind.

Through the years, I have combined meditation, action, and the Iron into a single strength. I believe that when the body is strong, the mind thinks strong thoughts. Time spent away from the Iron makes my mind degenerate. I wallow in a thick depression. My body shuts down my mind.

The Iron is the best antidepressant I have ever found. There is no better way to fight weakness than with strength. Once the mind and body have been awakened to their true potential, it's impossible to turn back.

The Iron never lies to you. You can walk outside and listen to all kinds of talk, get told that you're a god or a total bastard. The Iron will always kick you the real deal. The Iron is the great reference point, the all-knowing perspective giver. Always there like a beacon in the pitch black. I have found the Iron to be my greatest friend. It never freaks out on me, never runs. Friends may come and go. But two hundred pounds is always two hundred pounds.