Why are there angry blondes?

Today was supposed to be a rest day.

But then again, yesterday was supposed to be a work day.

Isn't it funny how life works out that way?

So here's a math problem:

If you need to be back at the house by 8pm, and you leave the house at 6:30, with 10-15 minutes of travel time both ways, how long should your workout be?

Answer?

It depends how long bitches be in the squat rack.

So I go to the gym, all ready for my reset day, because I have now pretty much maxed out my potential with the linear progression I was on.( A reset day, for Rippetoe's program, is when you scale all the weight back by roughly 30% and then begin adding 5lbs per lift again. You do a reset when you miss/fail 3 reps, which for me, happened much faster than I'd like. He wrote a book on it, but I wish it had had more charts, because then I would have known that my charts would look, dishearteningly, like a flat line.)

So I go, to do this terrible workout that is going to be much lighter than I'm used to, and therefore not very satisfying, and lo and behold, there is someone in both of the squat racks I need to begin my workout.

No problem. I shrug, I walk over to the exercise bikes, and I warm up for awhile.

I come back. Someone else's weight is still on the squat rack. A girl is sitting next to one of them, which I noticed is loaded with 45lb plates, (a very respectable weight) and then 3 plates weighing 2.5 lbs each (a weight which makes no logical sense).  She's kind of pudgy, blonde with short hair,  a lot of eyeliner, upper arm tattoos and bright red headphones trailing away from her ears. And she's sitting on a box. Not working out. Just sitting. Staring vapidly into nothing.

I ask, "Hey, are you using this?" and point to the rack. She looks at me. I think she hasn't understood me through her blonde monotone torpor, so I motion again, waving towards the weights and raising my eyebrows questioningly. She nods. Yes, she is using them.

Having gotten that far in communication, I decided to take it a step further. "How many sets do you have left?" She stares at me again. Obviously I've lost her, and I repeat myself. "How long do you have left?" The stare continues, direct eye contact is made, and then she stands up and walks away, her music blaring out of her ears and offending mine. She spent the next 30 minutes alternately standing, doing lunges with another smaller bar, and sometimes Kettlebell swings with a tiny, red kettlebell she obviously brought from home. I watched her go through a similar routine with several people wanting to use the weights, with the same result. She never. Touched. The. Bar.

I look over to the other squat rack, where two men are bromancing. You can't get between two bros and their weights in the gym. I think it causes friction burns.  I decide it's a lost cause. Always hopeful, I spend the next 30 minutes biking next to the squat rack, hoping that someone will finish their workout and let me use the machine.

But they spent their entire allotted gym time with their dirty hands all over my beloved squat rack, and I had to watch them do it and do nothing. Torture.

And that is why I spent today working out, and not yesterday.

And now I know that Tuesday at 9AM is Eastern European Gym Hour.
Because why not.

I also know that I hate reset days, even though I know that they're a necessary evil.
In fact, there's a lot I hate about weightlifting. I hate the crowds. I hate waiting for people. I hate a lot of the self-obsessed groups associated with it, and I hate being weaker than the other people in the gym (because, let's face it, I'm a girl and if you're a guy, you're most likely stronger than me).

 Maybe I should just go home.

Reset days, or beginning new programs, only exacerbates those problems, by making me feel even weaker than I was before. But they make you stronger in the end, so they're something you absolutely must do if you want to progress.

There is a special place for all solo sports in my heart, and lifting is one of those sports. It's easy to feel like you're getting a lot stronger when you're on your own. It's easy to feel like you can throw your weight around in an empty gym. And it's easy to become deluded about your place in the world when you're left to your own devices for long enough.

But being around a lot of other people reminds you that you're not that strong, and you're not that important. It gives you something to work towards, and it reminds you that you've got a long way to go. It makes you wait in line, because someone else, regardless of who they are, (yes, even if they're a total self-obsessed, inconsiderate asshole), has just as many rights as you. It makes you pull yourself out of your shell and take note of your own significance. Without it, you don't have any practical context by which to judge yourself.

And that, I tell myself, is why there are blonde girls taking up my squat rack.

It's Farmworker Awareness Week!

So, today I read a very compelling book called 'My Guantanamo Diary'. It's a simply written, honest, straightforward book about a translator who worked at Guantanamo Bay. She was studying law at the time and was also fluent in Pashtu, and so was the best choice for a translator for the pro bono (read: working fo' free) lawyers who chose to represent the inmates of the prison. 

Her job was so much cooler than yours is.

And it's much better than the last book I read, which was 'The Wilderness', by Samantha Harvey. It's about a man with Alzheimer's who is retracing his generally boring life in a marshland and telling us about it. The 'plot twist'- if it can be called that, is that he mixes up people's names because he has Alzheimer's. This 'twist' is introduced and fully explained within the first few chapters of the book. We then spend the next three-fourths of the novel dwelling on that. It was depressing, confused and left you with that grey, mealy, amoral feeling in your mouth like after you read a Russian novel, but without any of the compelling situational and political imagery.

Spoiler alert: It's about getting old. 

But back to Guantanamo Diary, the good book.

It reminds me of the time that I spent working as a social worker for an organization called SAF, which, if you've never heard of it, (and you probably haven't) is a small organization that ensures migrant farmworkers in the southeast are given proper rights and ensures that they receive fair treatment at the hands of their employers. Because unfortunately, this doesn't always happen. Myself and over a dozen other interns witnessed a lot of mistreatment of people who were legally residing in this country, just because of the fact that they were migrants, and could be taken advantage of. No one should be kept in work camps, or be deprived of access to medical care and blah blah blah, humanitarian rant. It's a big deal to me. It changed my life and my perspective on the world. I also realized that most people don't care, and you can't make them. 

As the reader you just want to know about the book. I'm getting to that, don't worry!

But first! This paragraph: 

During my time at SAF, I realized that I had unknowingly held a large number of stereotypes about farmworkers and their lives. I also realized that I was woefully uninformed about where my food came from. Most importantly, I realized that I knew nothing about the human side of the people who provided me with my food. And guess what? It's Farmworker Awareness Week, so BE AWARE! Go out and buy some food locally. Get your food from somewhere that doesn't cause human suffering within the greatest nation in the world. From a chicken factory that doesn't give people frostbite and cause their numbed fingers to get hacked off by machinery before they're even aware of it. From a farm that pays at least minimum wage for work that even Georgian prisoners won't do. That doesn't house 40 workers in cement buildings the size of a trailer, with rooms only large enough for a cot and a suitcase. 

And now, to awkwardly segue: 

This kind of eye-opening experience is the case with the author of this book, Mahvish Rukhsana Khan, only on a much higher level, involving law, and involving international prisoners accused of terrorism. 

Although I don't know how far I'm willing to go politically to actually help the prisoners of Guantanamo Bay, the least I can do for some slacktivism is to provide this small salient fact, which is really the backbone of the novel, and was provided through The Seton Hall Report. 

"Only 5% of the detainees were captured by United States forces. 

86% of the detainees were arrested by either Pakistan or the Northern Alliance and turned over to United States custody. 

This 86% of the detainees captured by Pakistan or the Northern Alliance were handed over to the United States at a time in which the United States offered large bounties for capture of suspected enemies."

There are several of these studies, and not all of them are quoted in the book, but you can access them through their wikipedia. 

So there you have it. That's the point of the book. I'd like to point out that I'm neither a student of law nor a political extremist or etc. (insert all disclaimers here), and that I haven't done any prolonged delving into the topic other than to read this book, check out its sources, and read the criticisms of the novel, of which there were few. This is a book review of a compelling story with some disturbing possibilities, and I felt strongly enough about it to want to talk about it, albeit only to my blog, and not to- well, the four walls, my cold cup of coffee, and my pile of laundry I need to fold. It's a book that challenges you, that makes you think, and whether or not I believe the allegations to be true, I believe that is what a good book should do. Read it. 

Viva la Revolucion!!

That's right, bitches. Two posts in two days.

Today's post isn't a training log. Today is a day off. Its more of a rant than anything, because- I don't like stereotypes. There are some amazing people out there, doing amazing things, and absolutely none of them deserves to be put down or to have their sport degraded because of the way society feels.

Of course, I'm talking about weightlifting, but at one time the same applied to any sport, including running, which is now the most wonderfully accepted and embraced sport in the world thanks to its poetic proponents everywhere. I mean, the sport just lends itself to poetry and introspection, since you're left alone with your thoughts for several hours a week to consider the human condition and/or the condition of your knees/feet. For so many reasons, it's now a mainstream sport, and will always have a special place in my heart and the heart of anyone who has tried it and loved it. Running has, unlike some sports, Made It.

So mostly, I'm talking about weightlifting.

There was a time when women were told that they couldn't run because it would be bad for their health and their reproductive systems. After that was thoroughly and rightly debunked by people who didn't suck and continued to not suck, women went on to do all sorts of other fantastic awesome things because- well, we kind of rock. Eventually it came to weightlifting, with the same situation. There is still a very large portion of the population that believes that weightlifting is bad for women, or that it is unfeminine, or that it will actually cause physical harm to them. The same myths that applied to the first female marathoners now apply to young female bodybuilders.
I was actually told not to lift weights because my uterus would fall out. Seriously. It's a belief people still have.

This is what happens when you do too many sit ups.

Several years later, we come to the current day, where most people don't think that my uterus is going to explode out of my stomach and attack nearby gym-goers if I start to break a sweat.


But just because it's accepted as something that is okay to do, doesn't mean that people who are actually good at it will be appreciated for their abilities. Yeah, in the strength world they're pretty accepted. (thank god, because if a 300lb man doesn't want you to be in his gym, then there is no way in hell you're getting in), but outside? No.

If I were to go out and run a marathon right now (first off, it would be a sad sad sad sad time with lots of wheezing and probably crying), I would have the support of friends and family, and I could go out to parties and say, 'I ran a marathon today!' and have people congratulate me and I could probably even compare running times with a few people, schedule running dates, etc.

And it's not just running that's a socially supported individual sport for women. (Say that ten times fast). If I were to start attending spin classes and pilates classes and yoga classes three times a week, I could go out into the world and talk to people about my hobbies for hours. We could talk about poses that were hard, teachers that were good, share experiences, tips, and all-organic-fair-trade-vegan-dessert-recipes.

And if I were to say, go and bench press 200 pounds?
Not so much.
I've told a few people about this video of a woman bench pressing 305 pounds while weighing only 135- that's about the average weight of your standard woman, so this gal is well within the set standards of beauty set by the general public, and doing something amazing:

And what is the general response that I've gotten to that? Usually, someone scrunches up their face and says, "Ew." or "I can't imagine why you would want to do that."
You know what? That woman is fantastic. She's accomplishing something that few human beings can accomplish, and I think that's amazing.
Here's another video of a light-weight individual doing something cool:

And I'm picking these because they're girls who are well within the boundaries of the aesthetics that society generally likes, (I'm not even going to start on that giant sack of modern-society-aesthetics-are-dumb-potatoes), but they're performing above and beyond the abilities of most people. And when they go out after accomplishing something new and great? When they complete their weight-lifting equivalent of a marathon/100 pilates classes/finally sticking a difficult yoga pose? Do they get the same rewards from their social group for meeting goals?
To quote Shane-the-Scottsman, 'No. I don't think so.'


The internet is a good place to find examples of women performing fantastic feats of lifting, as is exemplified by these videos, but when you log off and go into your neighborhood or workplace, you're not going to get the same feedback as a cardio junkie. Someone who even attempts a 5k or goes to a fitness class will be met with congratulations, advice and encouragement. But someone who is trying to lift more than they have before will be met with, 'I just don't see why you would want to get bulky,' or some such nonsense.


Female marathoners are just about as awesome as anything ever. And you know what? So are female soccer players and baseball players and swimmers and sprinters and yoga practitioners and cyclists and silk dancers! Women who are good at things should always be celebrated, always be rewarded by their social groups, and always be supported. For that matter, people, regardless of gender, should be supported. Because they've worked hard to arrive at their goals, and somewhere along the road someone probably told them that if they worked that hard, their uterus would fall out, but they kept on trying anyways.

MusicTonic

So I've finally recovered from being terribly sick (which was what stopped me from posting blog updates- or doing much of anything besides wheezing on a couch and sometimes flopping over to watch Netflix. Thank goodness for the internet).


Before I got sick, I decided to go to the gym anyway, and was confused by the fact that I had become weaker with each workout. 'Where have I gone wrong?' I thought to myself. And then realized I was spiking a fever on the way home. Feel the burn?


So now, I'm going to go back and re-attempt the weight I was doing over a week ago, because coupled with fever comes weight loss and strength loss and all sorts of...well, loss, that not even Netflix and several days of sitting at home drinking hot tea, snuggling in blankets and watching my neighbor's insanely cute puppy play in the snow can make up for.

How can you not want to cuddle it? 

 My neighbor's dog is probably the cutest, fluffiest thing in existence.

Now that I've emerged from my flu-induced torpor, though, it' like spring has sprung. I've got a car and the internet and food, all under the same roof! It's an exciting time to be me. Vunderbar!! 

Speaking of which- in Germany, you can't watch Netflix and you can't listen to Pandora or Grooveshark. Or play uncensored video games. Or watch most Youtube videos. This site, however will allow you to watch as many music videos as you want by searching an artist, and can even function as a ghetto Pandora is you set it to auto-shuffle. That's right Internet-Polizei. Suck it. 

There's probably a law about telling the polizei to suck things. If I disappear on the way to the gym, you know what happened. Avenge me. 

Goals for the day: 

Squat: 120

Press: 60 (My press is the most stubborn thing in existence. It hasn't gone up by more than twenty pounds in the entirety of my training history. Seriously. That's 5 years of pleading with my upper body to be friends and then getting ditched for some way cooler alternative. What the hell, upper body? Why you gotta be like that?)

Deadlift: 155

Happy Birthday to Me!

Hello blog! 

I'm back!

For the past couple weeks, I've been without internet…well, that's not true. I've been without a laptop that can connect to the internet. I've had a phone, but if you've ever tried doing anything useful online with a phone, you know that it's pretty much impossible. It's like trying to get a toddler to drive you to work when you're drunk. For so many reasons, there's no way it's going to happen. 

Today, I got it back.

And you know what the first thing I watched was? Dancing robots. And the second thing? Also robots. Later, I will get on stumbleupon and probably find a thousand pictures of cute baby animals and landscapes.

Damn if I didn't miss the internet. 

So, I'm back online. Now I just need to get my vehicle back, and I'll be pretty much back to the standard American baseline that I had finally arrived 3 months ago. Yay.

Seriously, though. This is probably the best thing that could happen to me today. I now have so many opportunities for entertainment and employment that I didn't before. 

Not that being disconnected has forced me to be much more productive. I had to skip the last couple gym sessions because of a lack of car/need to return the rental car and still catch the bus back home. (There are only four in a day, and the last one is at 1600, so if you miss that one…try to have a backup plan that doesn't involve a homeless shelter). So my current numbers for a 5*3 are: 

Squat: 115 (original 75)

Press: 55 (original 45)

Deadlift: 150 (original 120)

Bench: 75 (original 60)

Row: 75 (original 55)

Chinups: -50 (original -65)

My personal favorite is the Deadlift, because you can just move so much weight around with it. I hate that Rippetoe (the guy who wrote the program I'm doing) put it at the end of the workout, because it leaves me feeling like I have the ability to tear a small village in half, but then I have to get back into jeans and catch the bus home before it gets cold outside. 

The bus also makes it so that I end up going to the gym at strange hours. So I go in, there's no one there but me and maybe three other people. There's a math to this, that I've noticed. Some things are almost always guaranteed. Given that there are three people at the gym, then:

Two of them will probably be competent, and they'll probably be there together. 

A third will inevitably be the only person who is there to spot you in case you fail the bench press, so that you don't crush yourself.

That third will also, inevitably, be a jackass. That's why he's there alone. (But so are you, try not to think about it).

So I ask for a spot on the bench press, and sure enough the guy walks over, and starts grabbing my bar like he's trying to lift the weight himself, completely negating any benefit I might have gotten from the lift. 

"If you could, don't touch the bar unless it starts to go down, please" 

"Okay"

But bench press assistant man is ALWAYS a lying, undermining weasel of a spot, and soon you're bench pressing 50 pounds instead of 80, while he is doing 30 pound rows. 

Bench press spot guy? Why?

Why? 

My quote of the day, from TED Talks, which is a video featuring A Monkey That Controls a Robot With its Thoughts 

(but why do we want a robot that can crush a human like a tin can to have an insatiable desire for all things fruit related?)

"Any monkey will do anything you do for a little drop of Brazilian orange juice." 

Really? Anything?

Can it be my spotter? 

Because that would be great.