-jog easy .25 mile
-Sprint x 100 yards
-Walk x 100 yards
*Repeat 10x
-walk .5 mile a decent clip
Wiggy
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Monday, June 25, 2007
Afghani-WHAT?
Just heard that more than likely I'm not going to Baghdad, Iraq. Rather, I'm going to be sent to Afghanistan to work.
Stay tuned...
Stay tuned...
Randy Couture Interview
Here's a short Randy Couture interview, done when he visited Bernard Hopkins' gym.
Friday, June 22, 2007
Wiggy on MySpace
Well, I guess it's about time I did the MySpace thing. I've got a MySpace page setup - at least for now. I'm kinda new to all this, so if any of you have any tips/trick of the trade, feel free to let me know!
http://www.myspace.com/workingclassfitness
Wiggy
http://www.myspace.com/workingclassfitness
Wiggy
Thursday, June 21, 2007
"Get Out of the Gym to Get Strong"
My new column is up at MMA Weekly. "Get Out of the Gym to Get Strong" is about how sandbag training is different than what you're used to in the gym.
LINK
Wiggy
LINK
Wiggy
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
It's Almost Official...
Well, it's almost a done deal.
For a while now, I've talked about possibly going back to Iraq. Well, I've gotten the "official" job offer to work in Baghdad, Iraq. I have to take the "WABI" (Workplace Aptitude and Behavioural Index) tonight and get a dental exam tomorrow morning.
Once I get those done and my paperwork faxed in, I'll be set to leave for processing.
There will be a slight delay in my leaving due to a break in processing the week of the 4th of July.
As of now, I'm scheduled to leave for processing on 08 July 2007.
Wiggy
For a while now, I've talked about possibly going back to Iraq. Well, I've gotten the "official" job offer to work in Baghdad, Iraq. I have to take the "WABI" (Workplace Aptitude and Behavioural Index) tonight and get a dental exam tomorrow morning.
Once I get those done and my paperwork faxed in, I'll be set to leave for processing.
There will be a slight delay in my leaving due to a break in processing the week of the 4th of July.
As of now, I'm scheduled to leave for processing on 08 July 2007.
Wiggy
Tapout Marathon Tonight
If you've missed any of the Tapout shows on Versus, you're in luck. Tonight, they're showing a marathon of all the Tapout episodes thus far. It starts at 8:00 pm.
Check it out!
Wiggy
Check it out!
Wiggy
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Happy Father's Day!!
To all my fellow Dad's out there, I want to wish you a big-time Happy Father's Day.
Take the day off, put your feet up, and have a cold beer - today is your day, and you deserve. Just remember to work that beer off tomorrow!!
Wiggy
Take the day off, put your feet up, and have a cold beer - today is your day, and you deserve. Just remember to work that beer off tomorrow!!
Wiggy
Friday, June 15, 2007
One of the Best Articles of ALL FREAKIN' TIME
If you haven't read Henry Rollins' article titled "Iron" (originally published in Details magazine back in the early '90s), then you've missed out. As transcribed on www.comeinandburn.com (an unofficial Henry Rollins Band fan site), see the article below.
Prepare for one of - if not THE - best articles written on training of all time.
I believe that the definition of definition is reinvention. To not be like you 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 adviser. 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 ceratin 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.
Prepare for one of - if not THE - best articles written on training of all time.
I believe that the definition of definition is reinvention. To not be like you 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 adviser. 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 ceratin 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.
Today's Conditioning - 15 June 2007
Been having some tendonitis in my right elbow lately (NO JOKES!!! ;-) Had a hard "Tonnage Training" workout on Wed, and that aggravated it pretty good. So, I'm taking a few days off lifting. I took yesterday off completely, and did some easy conditioning today:
-2 mile run
I will do another day of conditioning this weekend, and then probably hit it back on Monday.
Wiggy
-2 mile run
I will do another day of conditioning this weekend, and then probably hit it back on Monday.
Wiggy
Monday, June 11, 2007
"Drug Use in MMA"
My new column, "Drug Use in MMA" is up at MMA Weekly.
In it, I discuss the increasing drug use of pro MMAist - be it recreational drugs or performance enhancing.
LINK
Wiggy
In it, I discuss the increasing drug use of pro MMAist - be it recreational drugs or performance enhancing.
LINK
Wiggy
Friday, June 08, 2007
Today's Workout - 08 June 2007
Did a full-body workout today:
Warmup:
-Band Cuban Presses: 2 sets x 12 reps
-Halos: 1 x 10 (each direction)
Workout:
-Bench Dips: 4 x 8-10
-Chins x 50 reps (don't remember how many sets - just as many as it took to get 50)
-Barbell High Pulls: 6 x 6 (pulled from just below knee to nipples - tried to focus on pulling elbows back)
-Curls: 3 x 12-15
-Situps: 3 x 15
Finisher:
-B-Circuit
Conditioning Finisher:
-Hard Run 1 lap (around front/side yard = ~100m)
-Walk 1 lap
*Repeat 4x
Whole workout took about 50 mins - felt GREAT!!
Wiggy
Warmup:
-Band Cuban Presses: 2 sets x 12 reps
-Halos: 1 x 10 (each direction)
Workout:
-Bench Dips: 4 x 8-10
-Chins x 50 reps (don't remember how many sets - just as many as it took to get 50)
-Barbell High Pulls: 6 x 6 (pulled from just below knee to nipples - tried to focus on pulling elbows back)
-Curls: 3 x 12-15
-Situps: 3 x 15
Finisher:
-B-Circuit
Conditioning Finisher:
-Hard Run 1 lap (around front/side yard = ~100m)
-Walk 1 lap
*Repeat 4x
Whole workout took about 50 mins - felt GREAT!!
Wiggy
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
Today's Conditioning - 06 June 2007
I went back to an "Oldie but a Goodie" for today's conditioning. I did "Track Intervals."
Since I don't have a track nearby, and the schools are still in session, I just ran around my front/side yards. A lap around it (walked off) is roughly 100 yards or so.
I alternated running a hard lap with walking a lap. Continued for 25 minutes. Would have been longer, but I had to get to the pharmacy for the wife. She had a tooth pulled yesterday, and the recovery ain't going so hot. It was a rough operation...she needs meds.
(*in best Homer Simpson voice*)
MMMMMMM...meds.....
*drools*
HA!
Wiggy
Since I don't have a track nearby, and the schools are still in session, I just ran around my front/side yards. A lap around it (walked off) is roughly 100 yards or so.
I alternated running a hard lap with walking a lap. Continued for 25 minutes. Would have been longer, but I had to get to the pharmacy for the wife. She had a tooth pulled yesterday, and the recovery ain't going so hot. It was a rough operation...she needs meds.
(*in best Homer Simpson voice*)
MMMMMMM...meds.....
*drools*
HA!
Wiggy
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
"Slam Opponents Like a UFC Champ"
My new article, "Slam Opponents Like a UFC Champ" is up at MMA Weekly. If you wanna slam guys like Rampage Jackson or Matt Hughes, here is a good place to start.
LINK
Wiggy
PS - If you like that, you should check out "Working Class Fitness - The Programs." All six, 8-week programs are perfect MMA Workouts. Program #4 has a ton of great sandbag work in it...
LINK
Wiggy
PS - If you like that, you should check out "Working Class Fitness - The Programs." All six, 8-week programs are perfect MMA Workouts. Program #4 has a ton of great sandbag work in it...
Sunday, June 03, 2007
"Tonnage" Training
I'm experimenting with a style of training I'm calling "Tonnage" Training.
The program is aimed at building some insane endurance and work capacity.
I don't want to let the cat out of the bag yet, but it's going great so far. If things keep up, I may end up asking for a couple of volunteer guinea pigs to help me test it out.
Shoot me an email if you're interested...
Wiggy
The program is aimed at building some insane endurance and work capacity.
I don't want to let the cat out of the bag yet, but it's going great so far. If things keep up, I may end up asking for a couple of volunteer guinea pigs to help me test it out.
Shoot me an email if you're interested...
Wiggy
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