Saturday, February 27, 2010

The 300


The 300.

From Gym Jones:

" “300” is a one-time test, an invitation-only challenge undertaken by those deemed ready for it. By the end of our four-month project 17 people had done the workout (Logan and I were two of them). This constitutes about 50% of the cast and stunt crew. We supervised every test, evaluated each rep for quality and only counted those that achieved our standards for form and range of motion. Like many workouts “300” is not hard once you've done it but the apprehension built up ahead of it – something we encouraged – was enough to make some guys fear it to the degree that performance was compromised. This workout was a crucible that some passed through and others still have hanging over them"


25x Pull-up +
50x Deadlift @ 135# +
50x Push-up +
50x Box Jump @ 24” box +
50x Floor Wiper @ 135# (one-count) +
50x KB Clean and Press @ 36# (KB must touch floor between reps) +
25x Pull-up


300 reps total

Friday, February 26, 2010

Haiti Part One: The Gear

As I'm sure some of you know, I have been given the opportunity to go on a relief mission to Haiti. I've never done anything like this in my entire life, and needless to say, I'm incredibly excited.

As I'm also sure a lot of you know, I'm somewhat of a gear junkie. Very few things make me so happy as a well-designed piece of outdoor equipment. And, as bad as it may seem with all the suffering that I'm about to go into, the trip has turned into an excuse to load up on some key travel/trekking equipment that I've needed for a while.

Because of the lack of building codes, and continued threat of aftershocks, the buildings still standing in Haiti are generally uninhabitable. There's no Hilton,no Four-Seasons, there are simply flat areas to pitch a tent and dig a latrine.

For someone with an extremely overdeveloped adventure/adrenal gland, this "roughing it" adds even more appeal to the trip that is sure to be one of the best experiences of my life. For sleeping purposes, I'm taking along an old Coleman, two-person, car-camping tent and 40 degree Field and Stream sleeping bag. The tent is really far too heavy for backpacking, and I've been planning to buy a new, lightweight tent from either Big Agnes or Mountain Hardware. And so, I'm going to leave the tent in Haiti with a Catholic mission when I leave. Similarly, for Christmas this year, I was given a Northface 15 degree bag. And so I'm going to leave the Field and Stream bag as well.

But, there are some pieces of gear that I didn't have, and they are as follows.

1. Mountainsmith Swift II Lumbar bag

Fanny packs are lame, yes, but this bag isn't. Made entirely from recycled plastic water bottles, the Swift II is both green, and awesome. The pack is designed to give lumbar support, and has room for my passport, emergency cash, Nalgene bottle and a few Cliff Bars. I plan to keep this bag on me at all times, I've done some running with the bag so far, and it's awesome. I had a cell phone and Nalgene bottle inside, and even with this weight, I still felt completely unencumbered in my strides.



2. Sea to Summit Tek Towel

Lightweight, compressible and quick-drying. The towel is a traveler's dream towel, it's the only thing I'm bringing as far as my linens are concerned.














3. Sea To Summit Compression Sacs
I bought two of these, one for my tent and one for my sleeping bag. Sea to Summit is THE company to trust when it comes to keeping your gear stowed away right.














4. Outdoor Research Helios Sun Hat
Rated to SPF 50, this hat is cool and light, it's going to keep the UV Rays off of my forehead and out of my eyes. Outdoor Research isn't nearly as well known as KAVU when it comes to headgear, but their products are actually far superior when it comes to the things that matter, utility, comfort, usability. Plus, when I wear it, I feel like I'm on a safari. I like to imagine that Indiana Jones would have worn such a hat were he tromping around in 2010 and not 1936. Brown fedora it is not, but I can just about guarantee that my head won't be sweating nearly as much as the good Dr. Jones'.

Thursday, February 25, 2010

America



One-hit wonders from the 70's are really marvelous things. These bands worked hard their whole lives, and they're only remembered for one shining achievement. But then you look at the rest of their catalog, and realize that these bands had more talent and pure artistry in their worst songs than artists today have in their entire, multi-platinum oeuvre (Lady Gaga! *cough*...).

If I was really trying to be cool, I'd be here telling you about how much I love these band's unknown songs, and how their one hit was actually their lesser offerings. But I'm not that cool, and here, I'm just going to share with you a one hit that never fails to blow my mind.

"Horse With No Name" is a song of a time, it has to be listened to alongside a copy of Edward Abbey's Desert Solitaire and the knowledge that the deserts of America were a spiritual home for the fringes of society, and that those refuges of counter-culture were continually under attack from developers and a Republican government that saw progress as littering the American wastelands with irrigation ditches and superhighways.

But the desert is bigger and stronger than us all. Nixon was disgraced and the deserts are still there, still menacing us with their violent beauty.

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

The Good Hurt


I did it, I finished the Southern 6k Trail Race in 40 minutes and 33 seconds. This put me in the top 25-40% by my rough estimation, and that's fine with me, it was my first race, and an awesome experience.

I showed up to Southern Adventist University's gym about 45 minutes before the race, and was immediately struck by what a big, fun deal this whole race was. The University's jazz band had set up to serenade the runners, and there were tables set up all around with bagels, fruit, water and Gatorade. There were volunteers everywhere.

I walked up to the registration table, told them my name, and then received my goodie bag. It was really astonishing. The main bit of swag was a mesh Patagonia jersey with the race logo on the front and the sponsor's on the back. I was expecting a cheap, cotton shirt for the $30 entry fee. This shirt was far more, It was a Patagonia Run Shade jersey, the fabric was a thin mesh, but strong, with great venting and a comfortable cut, I wanted to put it on immediately, but in my internet wanderings searching for race-day tips, I read that the only people who wear the race shirt during the race are the first time racers, because apparently there's some superstition about wearing the shirt before completion. Yes, I was a first-time racer, but I didn't want to look like a first time racer. So I kept the shirt off.

At about fifteen minutes till the start I was standing outside looking at an enormous, Mountain Hardware dome tent set up by the MH representatives (they, alongside Patagonia, Marmot and Smart Wool were the sponsors). I took the plug of dip out of my moth, and washed the tobacco juice out with a swig of water, the racers around me looked disgusted. Sorry, I may look like one of you, but I'm a country boy at my heart. When I opened up a peanut butter Power bar they all seemed a bit more approving, but that approval went away quickly when I washed down the bar with a 5-Hour Energy Shot.

Oh well, you can't please everyone.

The race started with a .4 mile run on the main road through campus. There was a big banner lifted about 12feet in the are with "start" written on the back side, and "finish" written on the front. The 170-or-so racers milled about behind the start in a chaotically organized fashion. The lanky ones who were in it to win it (you could tell these apartfrom their absolute lack of muscle and fat, it's amazing what chicken legs can carry a man/woman to) naturally gravitated towards the front, the rest of us were content to fill in behind, not too worried about our uncompetitive starting positions.

3-2-1- Go!

The start caught me a little off guard, I moved into a trot, about seven or eight miles an hour. But there was a problem, my music wasn't playing, I had locked my iPod, and so instead of hearing Steve Miller Band's "Take the money and Run", I instead heard 340 shoes pounting on pavement, a few grunts and mumbling. I reached down into my pocket and fixed the issue. "This is a story 'bout Billy Joe and bobby Sue..." Perfection.

Recent research has found that static stretching weakens your muscles for 30 or so minutes. So instead of toe touches and sumo-squats I had loosened up with a set of twenty split jumps. It seemed to work, I felt loose, and the three Advils I had taken 45 minutes before had preemptively neutralized the pain from my fledgling shin splints. I felt good, and started to pass.

On the road, there was room to maneuver, I looked ahead about 20 feet and picked out a path through the slower runners. Zigging and zagging, i had advanced about 30 places by the time the race left the road and entered the trail.

I don't remember much after that. As I anticipated, the hills were murderous, beginning almost as soon as the pavement transitioned to dirt and tree roots. I shut my mind off. It was a gorgeous day, 65 degrees and sunny. The woods we ran through were rich and full, streams cut through at odd intervals and I imagine that, at least on a subconscious level, I was soaking in the sights. But my fore-consciousness was occupied elsewhere. Left foot there, spring over that tree root, push of the right foot, left foot again, avoid the rock, now the right.

My wind left me right as James brown lead his bad back to the bridge on "Soul Power". I was halfway up the hill, wanted to stop, bend over, cough out my guts, force bellows-full of pure oxygen into my lungs. I pushed on.

There was a healthy competitive spirit in the air, the people behind and in front of me encouraged one another and me, I joined it. I wanted, desperately for these others to succeed, but not to succeed as much as me. This type of competition was alien to me. I knew football, I knew the overwhelming desire to grab my opponent by his jersey and throw him to the ground in a fit of strength and rage, to spit on him, kick him, to hope that he stays down just long enough to realize what a bad idea it would be to get back up and return to his huddle. But this desire wasn't there, I loved these people, they were my brothers and sisters of the trail, their success was my success.

The hills rose and fell, time lost its meaning, I guessed at miles, thought wandering thoughts of no consequence. "Man, James Brown has soul." "Man, that guy in front of me is wearing cologne, cologne! To a trail race!" But even these soon subsided into the recesses of my mind until only my left and right feet, my lungs, my calves held all of the meaning in the world.

5 days earlier I had come and surveyed the trail, this did me little good until the end. That tree, that creek bend, that walking bridge! I know these landmarks! I'm at the end. I dug down deep, found some bit of stored energy left for me by my ancestors hundreds of thousands of years ago running away from sabertooth tigers and dire wolves. Thanks, I needed it.

The dirt soon gave way once again to pavement, and I started on the most miserable .4 miles of my life. My legs were churning, but their movements meant nothing, I felt them not, the whole world was encompassed in my lungs and the cramp building itself up beneath my rib cage.

At the finish line I saw my parents and little sister. They looked so wonderful to me in those seconds, their love thrown out for the world to see if it took the time to notice, the banner, "finish", a skinny man about an inch shorter than me slapped me on the shoulder. "Good job." "*Cough* Than... tha... thank you."

And just like that, with AC/DC telling my to shoot to thrill, the world came back, it expanded away from my lungs. My legs reentered reality first, the cramps, the pain, then my feet, my left arch curled up into a vicious cramp. Then the tents, the spectacle, then the university, the town, the country, the world. These things whose very existence I had so completely forgotten for 40 minutes came back to me in a flood.

It was a beautiful feeling.

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

broke

A Disclaimer

Just a quick note, the two previous posts about Samford University's StepSing show are not meant to be critical of the University or the university's values system in any way, shape or form. It's a parody, and in parodying, a writer finds humor in taking his/her observations about the world and then blowing up the humorous aspects and minimizing the less funny reality.

StepSing 2010 was an amazing experience, and really shows off what's best about the students and faculty at Samford can achieve. I find it very hard to fathom any other school whose students are so extraordinarily talented, creative and driven to put together such an epic piece of musical theater.

Everyone even remotely involved with the show should be as proud as a peacock for what they put together on the nights of February 18-20. The show was extraordinary in every way, and it even went beyond a simple entertainment experience, and supported an amazing charity that brings real hope and joy to children suffering from a horrible disease.

I love Samford like no place in the world, and I loved StepSing like no other performance that I have ever had the privilege to witness. But I also love to write and laugh. It is this third love that gave birth to the StepSing aftermath posts.

It is somewhat narcissistic to think that anyone even cares enough about my writing to be offended, but on the off chance that someone does put stock into my half-assed writing and opinions, I just want to make clear that my writings are in jest, a humorous view of a humorous world.

Step Sing 2010 Aftermath, the Values Volations Pt. 2



Oh, so you thought I was done huh? Not even, we here at the values office share one character trait with Micheal Jackson in that we don't stop 'till we get enough. I am terribly sorry that I wasn't able to indict all of you at once, but as I reached my apogee in the last piece, I realized that I was going to be late to my John Birch society ice cream social, and so I had to stop.

Phi Mu you're on notice.

Yes, I'm sure that you all had a great time this weekend, surprising us all with your coup de grace 3rd place finish at the step sing sweeps. Congratulations, you sisters of sin!

Oh, yes, I'm sure you thought that you were terribly cute basing your step sing show in Las Vegas, but let us not forget that this is the city of sin!

Coming out in revealing clothing was quite a shocking thing for me, and nearly blinded me to the content of your show, but I am stronger than that, oh yes. And I saw! Oh how I saw your embrace of the modern day Babylon that we have allowed to fester like gangrene in our American Sahara.

If you had read our holy writ, the Samford Student Handbook, as your sterling orientation leaders suggested, you would have known, that, under the value of Self Discipline, that gambling is a high priority to our office.

We define gambling as "To play or game for money or other valuable stakes with
the hope of gaining something significant beyond the amount an
individual pays."

In your show, various sisters from your Sorority kneeled on the ground, using their bodies to represent slot machines! Oh what horrors we were forced to look upon as your leading cast members went up and down the line of kneeling forms, pulling the slot levers with the strength of demons one and all!

Unacceptable, unacceptable!

Lambda Chi Alpha, you're on notice!

Piracy is thievery, no questions asked, no questions answered! Think to your friends who have lost macbooks and iPhones to the thieving sinners whom have violated the serenity of our campus! How can you glorify acts of such thievery! And don't you forget, no, don't forget, that the pirates in our American history harassed the shorelines of our holy puritan forebears onthe Northeastern seaboard of this great land. These pirates were a blight to their city upon a hill, and you glorified their lifestyles.

But, we all agreed here in this office, that your Veggie Tales song was marvelous, so we're going to let you off with a stern reprimand.

Chi Omega, you're on notice!

Vigilantism! We're all disappointing in you to a startling degree. God has seen fit to bless our society with glorious, unblemished law enforcement who live and breath to enable us to live our lifestyles of insularity and holiness without fear of the sinful lower classes that threaten our American lives.

Batman as a symbol speaks to an anarchist viewpoint on society that we cannot allow you to glorify! Batman and his rich, playboy existence invalidates the very glorified professions in law enforcement that we here at Samford wholeheartedly support.

Why do you need a vigilante? I am confused why you would even see such an ideal as necessary? Have you not heard of our vaunted campus safety? Did you not hear the epic and bravehearted tale of how they risked life and limb last semester to protect you from insidious thieves out to take away your Calculus textbooks!?!?!?!

Of course you heard, the tale was shouted from the rooftops just as the British communities would ring their church bells after each and every victory against the rapist and pillagers of Napoleon's hoi polloi hordes!

The threat was dealt with in the appropriate fashion, and not one batarang was ever thrown!

And also, Batman believes that guns are evil! What blasphemy! Does he not know that the greatest sentence ever put down in the history of the English language is the second amendment! Heresy! Heresy! Were Batman a true American, and not an atheistic communist, he would certainly carry at least a civilian model assault rifle, just like our founding fathers did.

Monday, February 22, 2010

Step Sing Aftermath: The Values Violations

Samford University is quite possibly the most violently conservative Baptist school that one could ever find. And so the very existence of Step Sing is somewhat of a surprise. The costumes are generally too revealing, the dance moves too suggestive and songs too vulgar for the trustees’ tastes. But the whole spectacle has superseded even their Mussolini-esque iron grip to become a creature larger than anyone’s ability to reign in.

No longer, you're on notice Step Sing, you will no longer be allowed to advocate actions and attitudes contrary to the values code.

You're on notice Alpha Delta Pi.

Your inclusion of the Steve Miller Band song "Take the Money and Run" is completely unacceptable.

This story of the so called "Billy Joe and Bobby Sue" runs directly contrary to the values that you as students signed on to uphold and honor.

These, "young lovers" engage in premarital relations, the smoking of marijuana, armed robbery, assault and evasion of the law that God placed on Earth to rule us. Unacceptable AD Pi, unacceptable. Not only do you sully the honor of the glorious Wright center with the story of these two heathens, but you even go so far as to spell out RUN in your choreography. We as a values committee can only assume that this was some kind of warning for Billy Joe and Bobby Sue. How you knew that our illustrious campus safety was closing in on these bandits is unknown at this point, but we can only assume that you were providing aid and bedding to these lawless criminals. Expect an email on the formal values charges in the next week.

University Ministries, you're on notice.

Yes, you had quite a laugh on our behalf, haha, but we'll see who gets the last laugh. Your show reveled in the 1970's LSD culture that so blighted these God-given lands of ours. Beatles songs! Jefferson Airplane! You sicken us! After looking at Wikipedia, we have discovered that the lovely, innocent children's story by Lewis Carroll has been embraced by these crazed acid fiends.

It is our general opinion that you have embraced this horrendously sinful take on the innocent tail.Your color palate for the shows is our main evidence, far too creative! Far too creative indeed! Are you all dropping acid blotters during Shiloh? Well, the evidence to support this isn't there, but beware, an investigation has been opened. For your own good, please inform us who among our close-knit community is sullying our great ministries with the devil's own chemical.

Pi Kappa Phi, you're on notice.

You think that you're really clever don't you Pi Kapp! But you're not! You're not! The great, God-fearing John Glenn would have been sickened by your song choices! Rocket Man?!?!?! Rocket Man?!?!?! We weren't born yesterday! We know who sang that song! The sinful, sodomite Elton John!

There are no gay people in Iran, and we as a campus can only hope to live up to this great nation's example and eradicate all such sin from within our campus walls. Your tacit support of this sinful lifestyle will not be tolerated.

Sunday, February 21, 2010

Cardio Killer


Today, my La Sportiva Wildcats and I will try to avoid tree roots and irate speedsters at the Southern Six Trail Race. 6k= ~3.7 miles, I run that four times a week, no sweat. But... the trail here is supposed to be unmercifully hilly, and so there's a bit of apprehension on my part, but I get a t-shirt, so what the hell.

Race Playlist:

Take the Money and Run- Steve Miller Band
Soul Power- James Brown
Magic Carpet Ride- Steppenwolf
Good Times, Bad Times- Led Zeppelin
Paperback Writer- The Beatles
The General Specific- Band of Horses
Roadhouse Blues- The Doors
The Passenger- Iggy Pop
Spirit in the Sky- Norman Greenbaum

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Cater to the Suited Masses


Really Victorinox? Really? You're putting a flash drive in your knives now? You are the knife company! You've got history and reputation! Why are you diluting your brand, which has recognition and good will among the entire world's outdoor community, with a superfluous tool that is prone to breaking under any of the circumstances that a real Swiss Army aficionado would have to use their knife in.

You wouldn't see Gerber, or Wenger, or Leatherman putting a flash drive in their tools because they know that such additions are about as useless to a serious outdoorsman as a hole in the head.

But this knife isn't for outdoorsmen, it's for the businessman who needs a little pen knife in his pocket for cleaning his nails or fixing a stapler. Why not combine this needed knife with the other item in his pocket, a flash drive. This knife even has a laser pointer in it for doing presentations.

I'm sure that catering to the business set is highly lucrative for Victorinox. Their Swiss Army Watches have entered the realm of mid-level luxury timepieces like Seiko, and good for them. But just as performance sporting goods have become en-vogue fashion statements, and diluted the integrity of brands like Northface and Patagonia in the eyes of real outdoorsmen, I worry that this catering to the business class will sully Swiss' brand integrity.

Heck, it already has with me. I'll stick with my Gerber and Leatherman thank you very much.

I'm sure that Edward Abbey would have something far more humorous, biting and insightful about this subject. But he died 20 years ago and had better things to write about even then, so I guess that this will have to do.

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Rocky Racoon

Buried deep in The Beatles (White Album) is a gem of a ballad.

The American west is such an integral component to the American imagination, that Americans are almost incapable of telling its story. We're too involved in the mythos to see it as an observer. We may live in a suburb, may drive gas-guzzling, completely impractical, non-4x4 SUV's, and drink our mochafrapecachino lattes, but there's still apart of us that longs for the limitless bounds of the Big Sky country in its heyday.

In my opinion, Europeans have given us the most beautiful images of the American west. Italian Sergio Leone's magnificent sand-operas, the sublime vision of Australian Andrew Dominik's The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford. Each offers us a picture of our past that we ourselves cannot conjure.

To leave out Paul McCartney's ballad of the cowboy Rocky Racoon from this list would be a crime.

I don't like blogs


I think that blogs can be fairly narcissistic. But there is one site that has always made me happy. It's called Cold Splinters. It's an adventure appreciation site, that's the best way I can describe it. The author talks about music, antiques, climbing, hiking and the good things in life.

I love Cold Splinters, but there's always something cool that I want the world to see, that Splinters doesn't even mention. That's not a bad thing, it's his party and he can do what he wants to, and so I'm going to have my own party.

Look for gear reviews, music I'm listening to, and stories of a life in search of adventure.