No foul language

Ground situation: 1) In the last couple months both girls have had what the ER doc's taught us to call "straddle injuries."  Yeah.  In varying degrees from awful to worse.  Stitches in one case.  Let that sink in a moment.   The term turns out not as euphemistic as it sounds.  It's quite accurate, actually, and you don't have to keep saying "when I took a monkey bar to the who-ha."  We got climbers and jumpers and generally fearless girls.  And they are twins so they do freaky twin stuff like hurt themselves in the same way, weeks apart.  2) Our approach to profanity is outright relish to  grudging acceptance.  There just doesn't seem (to me) to be much integrity in forbidding language.  I'm an English lover/teacher.  And I'm profane.  Heather's thing is: be honest as the age will allow.  We reject the notion of bad words.  Words are good.  Period.  The thing to learn is when and how to use them.  No bad words, only bad times/uses of words.  You can imagine the eyebrows this raises, perhaps even your very own, as our kids sort out the rules. . . of usage, as it were.  You may disagree, you are free to, and it will probably make the story better if you do.  What follows is pretty much verbatim a conversation we had in the car on the way to school last week.

That Adele song comes on, "Set Fire to the Rain, watch it burn..."
Adders: dad, what's she singing about?
Me:  Uh.  Um.  I think she's angry.  She's imagining. . .
Wyatt:  No, she's sad.  She's sad.  This is a sad song.
Me: (quick peek in rearview): okay, yeah, sad, but so sad she's angry too and imagining...
Wyatt: there are SAD songs and MAD songs.  I like mad songs.
Me: Sure.  Mad songs are fun.  But i think. . .
Wyatt: This is a SAD song
Me:  Yes. It's a sad song.  No doubt.  But. . .
Wyatt: you said, you said she was angry.  That's a MAD song.  This is a SAD song
'Nother rearview check: six eyes, waiting: mad or sad, dad?
Me:  Sad, yes, you're right. but there's anger in her sadness.  She wants to set fire to the rain.
Ags:  how would you even do that?
Me: well, you wouldn't, you couldn't, but imagine being so sad AND mad that you thought of it. I think that's the song.  Raindrops could be like "tears" [I hate the finger-quote thing, for some reason I do it here. I don't know.] and you don't want to cry them, you'd rather burn 'em instead. (Kick save and a beauty)
Rearview:  knowing nods.  Sage, dude, very sage.
Ags: Why do people do this: she does the finger quote thing "--"
Me: that's a good one.  It's a way to indicate you don't really mean what you're saying or you mean it in a different way.
Rearview: stone faces
Me: Like, Ags, if I asked you how your "boo-boo" was.  I do the finger thing so you know that i know it's much worse than a boo-boo.  It's a serious injury.  But i can call it a "boo-boo" with my fingers so that i can protect your privacy and I dont have to keep asking you how your vagina is.  which might get . . . does this make sense?
Wyatt: kinda.
Me: Ags?
Ags: yeah (not very sure)
Me: but there are lots of reasons you might want to hide your meaning.  Not your meaning.  Not hide it.  Disguise it. Or, there are lots of situations you might want to say one thing and really mean another.
Adders: why's she sad?
Me:  I don't know,  . . . maybe it's an adult thing.
Wyatt: Well, she's only 22.
Me: okay, but she's older, lots of things could make her sad. what makes you sad, Adders?
Adders:  I was sad went I got hurt.
Me: yeah
Adders: and when Ags got hurt.
Me: yeah.  We all were. i'd like it if you guys didn't go your whole life twining injuries. one was enough.
Wyatt:  MAD songs have curse words in them
Me: they do.
Wyatt: Like Green Day songs.  Billy Joe Armstong swears A LOT!
Rearview: general agreement.  song coming to an end.  "never do, never do..."
long silence, only radio  WXPN morning show
Adders: What does "fuck" mean?
Me: ah, ahem,  it's just an oath.
Adders: what's that?
Ags: dad, so this is my boo-boo?  points at scratch on her leg. im driving, cant look, but think i get her drift.  She's trying out the  finger quote thing.
ME:  an oath.  a curse.  something you say when you're angry. An exclamation.  yeah, but, so, Ags, in that case you'd say, you wouldn't say "boo-boo" because it IS a boo-boo.  You'd say it's a "laceration"or a "giant cut" or "a sucking chest wound"  That's your "sucking chest wound"
Rearview: Ags all smiles, so pleased.  Adders and Wyatt, chewing on what "fuck" means.  I might get out of this yet.
Me: it's just a really powerful expression of surprise or disgust or anger or whatever.  You dont hear it a lot in polite company.  It's for when you're, I don't know, the conditions have to be just right.  I never say it in front of Birdie or GG. [grandmothers, not technically true, but for the age. . . ]  It would be rude and  inappropriate.
Wyatt: you say it to Nate.  I've heard you.  A lot.  laughing
Me: yeah and Lex and Scott.  It's a good word.  A lot of times.  other times it's a terrible word.  Make sense?
Rearview:  yeah. okay. sure.
Me: Adders?
Adders: uh-huh.
Wyatt:  Nadielis [a neighbor girl] says it a lot.
Me: I don't think she understands the rules for it.
Ags: Nooooo!
Me: it's a bad word.  Sometimes.
long pause.
Wyatt:  Wait.  No.  Dad!  Its a "bad" word.  finger-quote thing.
Me:   three backward fist bumps.

mo-sheen

Took a motorcycle ride Down to Willow Street to check on JimmyZ's caravan.  He asked me to grab a credit card from the glove box.  Who am I to argue?  Jimmy's Harley is currently moonlighting with another rider, yours truly.  We just had the 10K service done, replaced the battery and got a new back tire.  I say "we" did these things but I had actually very little to do with them, OR what I had to do with them were the fun and enjoyable parts.  Jimmy paid for it and the mechanics at Lancaster HD did the work. I dropped off and picked up.  The fat boy rode like a dream before, it's another, different, better kind of dream now.  And I'm not sure but I might look even cooler on it, if you can imagine.  Country roads sluicing new planted fields, gently bruised evening sky, smells of spring filling my head.  I don't know how I found my way back.

Before I did, I got to the rig in the RV yard at an undisclosed location.  I started the Denali and commenced to look for the credit card.  Thought to play some music for the search but my CD choices were: Skid Row, Ratt, more Skid Row (did you know they had multiple albums?) and Motley Crue.  In silence, I had to brave the landfill transfer station that is the cab of Jimmy's rig.  If you've ever lost a receipt, it's probably in JZ's car.  A random list of other jetsam and flotsam:  Hilti electric hand grinder.  Like, 5 lives worth of paper: wrappers, note pads, loose leaf, news, order slips, business cards (one from Sauer's Trading, South Williamsport PA.  I grew up about 6 blocks from this place.  i think they closed in the 80's) a strange combination of dental care and dental poison: toothbrushes, floss, whitening strips, appointment cards and CANDY.  Kisses, Peanut butter cups, Brach's black licorice jelly beans, cough drops.  All melted, of course.  Well, the PB cups would be if this particular brand had any real chocolate and/or PB in it (rhymes with feces).  Other stuff; I'll just leave it at that.  It's a man's truck.  Or something.  I've learned not to ask too many questions if there's a chance you might not want to know the answer.  Eventually found the card in the last place I looked: at the bottom of the center consol.  Where everyone keeps his credit cards when off in the foreign legion.

The ride back was even better because it got just a bit cooler and rolling back through the city I got to see some dude in handcuffs getting stuffed in the back of a cruiser.  The neighbors were out on stoops. The laundromat was busy, the corner store doing brisk business.  Like I said, it was a nice night.  Unless you were a dude cops wanted to visit with.

In the last seven days I've piloted an airplane and riden a Fatboy.  In the last year, add a backhoe to that list.  It's taken me way too long to be honest with myself about this:  I like engines, loud ones especially,  I like having the throttle and steering mechanism.  I like driving shit.  Too late now to do anything about it except drive shit.  i think that makes me simple and unrefined.  Im good with that.  Something oughta.  Too many tendencies the other way. Someone asked me if the plane and the motorcycle scared me.  Had occasion to really think about that tonight in the southern end of the county.  Those country smells, a hue of twilight telling of the river beneath it, though the river was not to be seen.  And I thought about it earlier in the week in the Piper, up high, banking away from the wind project that overlooks the same river upstream.  We were on a heading that followed the water.  We flew up to the Wrightsville Bridge and back again.  The yoke was mine and I rolled long loping 180's over the Susquehanna.  No.  I'm not afraid of that stuff anymore.  Heights? used to be.  Speed?  Maybe still a little, but it feels more like remembering an old emotion.  I'm not saying I'm carefree or reckless.  I've learned respect.  A healthy version.  But I'm not afraid.  I'm a lot more fearful of making mistakes with my kids.  More fearful of not living up to what I think I owe people.  Afraid of not squeezing every minute out of every day.  These things really scare me, not much else.  Of course this is a consequence of having to get ready to die.  Of course it is.  (Im not trying to pass this off as insight.)  I'm learning to like it.  Take it in stride.  I know now, and hope this helps you know too: (this is the insight) the hard part isn't dying.  The hard part is thinking about dying.  Don't think about it.  Quit thinking and solve all your problems.

365

The bone marrow biopsy begins, like all good audits, with your pants down.  You: prone on the "bed" or what we like to call the workbench.  Your practitioner's hands will no doubt be cold and she will palpate the low back searching for just the points on the posterior iliac crest where bone is nearest the surface or what we like to call skin.  Recall that areas of thin skin or with proximal bone bleed easily (near the eyes, e.g.), are fairly sensitive comparatively (back of the arm, say) and prompt hard-wire reflexive protection, (your groin).  Once she finds a spot, the drill master will hold it with a finger like you do for someone tying a bow on a present.  This marking is so she can deliver the "pinch and burn" of a local numbing medicine.  If it's your first time you may even get a target drawn on you.  "Pinch" is really a euphemism for stabbed with a needle, and burn is burn except the flames are on the inside.  While you wait for the numbing to numb, don't be surprised by small chit chat like you might have with a bank teller or your barber even.  No one really likes BMB's and rather than go to pieces, you act like the transaction is far more quotidian and commercial than it really is.  There are no instructions about this.  You just go along to get along.  Once numbed, there is more numbing medicine, this time applied to the bone.  This burns too, but only for a moment.  The bone per se can't really be numbed, but the surface and it's coatings can be and every little bit of numbing is helpful.  You're numbed up, not when numb, exactly, but when you feel things the way you'd feel them if you were made of wood.  From a tree.  That hasn't been cut down yet.  Your healthcare professional will ask you if you feel anything.  The desired answer here is "No."   But it won't really be true.  Say it anyway if your pain or sensation is at or below the level you'd feel if you smashed your thumb with a hammer twenty minutes ago.  At or below this level is just about the best you're going to do.  Above this level, well, you're probably not going to do much better than this either, but everyone will be more earnest in acting like they're doing everything they reasonably can.  It's a bmb, after all, did you expect it to be soothing?  When the drilling starts--think of wine bottle and a corkscrew-- very often you'll hear grunts and clenches of the driller as if your cork broke inside the neck of the bottle.  Cork=your bone  Bottle=you.  You'll feel what people who DO bmb's call "pressure" and what people who GET bmb's call pain.  The pain can range from strange discomforting weight on the posterior iliac crest: "Oh, that's my bone" to a white-hot searing from within. "Jesus, that's MY BONE."  You hope for the low end of the scale and take what you get.  At a certain point in the drilling the driller will decide that she is deep enough into the bone to harvest the needed samples.  There are two sorts:  the aspirate and the marrow proper.  Aspirate is the liquid that seeps or is sucked violently from  punctured bone.  Violent sucking is the preferred method of collection.  When the plunger is pulled back there is a feeling quite like being electrocuted so deep in your person that it must be where the soul resides.  Soul electrocution.  But it only takes three of these per biopsy.  Unless you-know-who did not really drill down/in far enough.  Then there are four or five, a RE-drilling, and a couple more electrocutions of the soul.  Tensions run very high in these cases.  People will think and say things they might not in other circumstances mean.  The cost of science or of simply seeing the end of the procedure will seem quite high.  Hope that proper bone depth is achieved on the first try.  A simple technique for mitigating the electrocution sensation is to breathe out forcefully at the exact time that the plunger is sucking up it's (your) juices.  This works very very well.  It's probably the only thing that lets one lie down on the workbench a second or third or dozenth time without sedation.  If you forget if to blow out or breathe in--you're anxious, the stakes are high--don't worry you will only forget this one time.  You'll never ever ever forget again.  You blow out.  Breathing in upon extraction is likely only topped in desolate, pitiless pain by being fed into a wood chipper feet first, but only if it stalls at the waist.  After the aspirate is collected the marrow proper is sorta scooped out like osso buco only minus the risotto and good Chianti.  The marrow sample is far less demanding of the donor.  After a shark bite, the dog that nips you isn't all that big a deal.   Here too, though, you are likely to feel a good bit of "pressure" but your practitioner will soon announce that you (she) is almost done.  Sample volume is critical.  If not enough is collected, she'll have to harvest more.  If the instruments are still in your back, well that just means more "pressure"  If they have been removed they will be reinserted quickly before the numbing medicine wears off, or that's the theory anyway.  In practice, she just screws them back in with apologies.  Or she may pick a brand new spot altogether, re-numb, drill, and scoop and in this way you get valuable practice for your next, next biopsy, since this is now technically your next one.  Neosporin, big ass band-aid and BP check (it might be high) and you're all set.  Now all that remains is to wait a week or so for news about how your life might turn out.


Did one of these last Monday.  KME, sadly, not there to pass out and add to the general hilarity.  Call from practitioner (who really is a lovely person, quite warm and affable):  Disease free.  Not a trace.  Zero is the best score they give and I got a zero.  Audit passed.  One year ago today (well, the 15th actually) I received a stem cell transplant.  Today I dead lifted 305.  Sumo style.  On an axel bar.  I thought I might try to pass along some of what I've learned though my ordeal thus far, or drill down on one aspect or another of what these 300-odd days have been like, in retrospect.  I always have a thought or two and I never seem to lack a point of view.  But those will have to wait.  What I think is in order, indeed, what I feel most compelled to do is to offer my simple but profound gratitude.  Thank you.  To my wife.  To my parents and brother.  To my dear family.  To my friends.  To the folks at Angel Flights. To my nurses and doctors. You fended for me when I couldn't fend for myself.  I'm honored by that and humbled too.  I wish I had the means or capacity or the know-how to communicate how grateful I am for your love and support, your help.  Instead I'll just tell you that I'm trying to live out my days as the best version of myself--Curious, loyal, skeptical, trenchant (hopefully), stubborn and die-hard--for you.  And for me too.  I intend to do this as an expression of my love and affection and because quite honestly it is all and everything I have to give.  Happy my new birthday to you.

teach a man to fish

I mean who really cares what I did for exercise today?  Or yesterday.  Or tomorrow.  A couple months ago? Sure.  Bless you all for being interested in my recovery.  But at some point we should just say "recovered." For most intents and purposes.  But I like hearing from you.  Kinda addicted to it actually.  I said I'd blog for a year and we're pretty close.  Gonna try to keep going but something's gotta give.  I've scared off or bored too many.  Maybe they'll come back.  Maybe we'll go viral.  Maybe Hollywood will call.  here is your last WOD.  I'm through posting workouts.  This is the last one.  Not saying no more exercise talk.  Just no more wod mail.  A template, if you will, of the next 12 weeks.  A little Westside, a little oly work, some gymnastics, some strongman, some wods, some Xfit. I can't really claim that this is the ONE path.  But I think it promises to be a good one.  It's not a stab in the dark.  It's the culmination of a couple years of training, experimentation, success and failure.  Huge citation to Matt at Chupacabra.  He's pretty insightful. And relentless in his search for virtuosity.  This is his handwriting but it's a conversation we've been having for a long time.

so give it a try:  add/delete/amend/abandon/ignore (or dont try).  adapt. improvise. overcome.  You're an adult you can take responsibility.  You can work at it.  You can improve.  Ask questions.  Let me know how it goes.  If you don't dilly-dally I think these can all be done in an hour. a huge upside in my book.

MONDAY
max effort squat.  get 3 reps at 80-90%. or set a pr.  Make it heavy.  Change the squat variation every week.  Some weeks do deads.  Some weeks do good mornings (3rm)  All sorts and styles and varieties.  make it heavy, physically and emotionally.  at least 3 reps north of 80% known pr.  if you can help it try not to miss.  sometimes you cant help it.

Do some assistance exercises.  Address your weakness.  Low back, hams, glutes, hips, mid back etc.  Think: DB lunges, reverse hyper, pistols, GHD raises.  Attack your weaknesses.  Do it like this: 10 x intervals. 15-20 seconds work, 20-40 seconds rest.  make it hard.  Don't be a bodybuilder, but build your body.

conditioning:  hard, fast, simple: 12min tops.  sled drags.  light non-stop squat cleans.  sprint repeats.  hard fast simple

midline:  GHD, L/tuck-sit, hollow.  Change it up.



TUESDAY
30 minutes of gymnastics practice.   You know what gymnastics are.  practice them.  methodically.  quit dicking around.

conditioning: rowing intervals.  min 2K - max 5K



WEDNESDAY
max effort bench or overhead.  Mix it up.  Change the lift.  Any bench, any overhead.  3 reps at 80% or above.

Assistance work:  shoulders.  10x intervals, like monday but shoulders, upper back, tris.

Conditioning: 8-12 minutes:  burpees, box jumps, or double unders.  Or all three.  see how many you can do in a period of time and then try to beat that number.  Like when you stuff envelopes.

Midline:  t2b, kte.  pick one.  5x max UB sets



THURSDAY
rest (or rest Tues and practice thursday)


FRIDAY (pay attention)
Dynamic effort squat.  The lift you did monday: do it fast with cut weight.  add bands or chains if you can.  Try to mini-cycle the %'s like this: 50-55-60+25% band/chain resistance.  go fast build force production.  12 x 2.  IN RE: the bands/chains: don't freak out if you dont have them.  They're worth it, trust me, but dont spend tuition money.  They're like extra 2 tbs of butter.  You're still good w/o, but so much better if you do.  Either way, work on being fast.  Remember Louie's parable of the baseball? Throw a wiffle ball, baseball, shot put at a window.  which one breaks glass?  Wiffle not heavy enough to be forceful.  Shot too heavy to be speedy.  throw(lift quickly) the baseball (properly weighted barbell).  Break glass.

Dynamic effort deads.  similar weights 10 x 1.  switch your grip: clean and snatch

Assistance work:  like monday, but different exercises or the same ones.  work hard.

Conditioning: stones, prowler or kb until gassed then 2 more minutes just to be sure


SATURDAY
rest

SUNDAY (pay attention to this too)
olympic lifts:
snatch then clean: 8-12  singles at 60-85%  no more than 45 seconds rest.  faster if you can.   start with 12 @ 60%.  Percentages go up each week, # of sets goes down.  after 6 weeks, retest, use your new pr to refigure %'s  start at 12 @ 60% again.

midline: GHD, HOLLOW, L-sit


Right now im at 215 squat (probably more), 175 c&J, 150 snatch, 215 jerk, 7:47 2k (maybe better).  Retest in AUG.  let you know.  Please do send us your totals whatever they are, following along or not (control group?) and we'll see who can make some gains.  Make a video, send it to me.  Type out a comment, post it.  The world is full of paper, write to me*


make sense?  Excelsior.

Look for new content on the Ides

Wild dogwood

*Agha Shahid Ali

can't clean the door unless you can clean the door

JZ, sometime blog troll, current resident of the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, and currently wrestling heavyweight for Montgomery, left in my care: '04 Yukon Denali (1)with "competition grade" sound system (1), BFN enclosed trailer (1) with 250lb drivable tailgate that is rendered less than perfectly operable (it's free swinging now) b/c said owner cut lift cables to see just how much vehicle his vehicle carrier could carry.  The trailer contains:  A 1970 Chevy (1) with a 454 big block that sounds like a deep woods bengal tiger and makes your molars jiggle when idling. 2002 Harley Davidson Fat Boy (1) sounding even better.  Expensive ass Snapping Turtle tire straps(4) wheel chocks (2) a car cover (1), sundry tools, receipts, old coffee cups, boxes and a three year old random Washington Post. (?) [But DOES NOT CONTAIN a dual-axle pickup.  Those are just too big.]  The above are located in a nice towing package at an RV storage yard in an undisclosed location close to my home in Lancaster.

I have permission from the state of pennsylvania  and the owner to ride the motorcycle and intend to do so.

SO:  go to the yard with spouse who currently deadlifts 238.  Bring along a jumble of keys big as a baby's head.  unlock, enter yard.  Unlock, enter trailer.  Chevy.  Ignition.  Fail.  No problem.  Open very heavy free swinging door, coast car out the back.  back into trailer.  Start motorcycle.  Motocycle fail.  Gosh it's hot.  Neutral walk motorcycle out.  Find jumper cables.  Jump start motorcycle with Volvo grocery getter.  motorcycle roars to hog life and makes at least one person smile.  Next jump start Chevy.  No joy.  Chevy not in the mind to jump.  Hmmm.  Impossible for one or maybe even 10 men to push Chevy back on trailer.  Spouse has work to do. And a toe to tap.  Leave neat towing package all undone, Denali blocking others' egress from park. (if you're not camping today you're not  camping today.) Drive Lancaster county backroads in GLORIOUS spring afternoon.  Seriously a day like CHROME.  Go to OTB, place losing KY Derby bets.  Ride home.  Puma Suedes and american iron, pretty much coolest thing in the time zone.  Bonus: New curly hair all mussed by the wind.

Back to the yard with a friend.  Try to jump Chevy again.  NO LOVE.  No chance of pushing it up tailgate.  New Plan:  push/move Chevy along side trailer, return trailer to slip, opening up passage to yardmates whoever they are.  24 hrs elapse.  during which Chevy owner passes along helpful tip that the starter is fussy.  Im not losing, im just behind.

Take boy to "see JZ's Chevy"  Try the Chevy with new tip from owner.  Jumps to life like Steve McQueen and tickles the boys in the front to no end.  High fives, fist bumps, country hollerin'. Whoopin and Hollerin'  Hop out, drop down trailer door. Hop in drive Chevy up the ramp.  Sit in front seat, rev engine several times, mentally account for all 454 cubic inches, think about molars shaking  Ignition off.  Everything set, out the trailer...

The tailgate.

Cant be done one-man.  Boy is willing and god forgive me i think i considered it for a flash.  NO.  NO NO NO NO.  8yr olds cannot help lift 200lb doors.  Their mothers get very angry.  DAMN.  Now what?
Dad, how many cars does Jimmy have?
I don't know a lot.
First attempt: okay grip, pop the hips, shrug, no.  No that's not gonna happen.  Tailgate back to gravel.
Dad, why did Jimmy cut the wires to the door?
He shoots first and asks questions later.
Shoots what?
nevermind
he likes to do crazy things
yeah. backwards anyway.
Dad?
Hold on, bud.  Attempt 2: more hip. better shrug.  almost get one hand turned under waiterstyle.  a glimmer.  but a fading glimmer.
Dad, it's too heavy.
You might be right.
Why does Jimmy like chevys so much
he just does
is this the two tone or the Aztec silver
what do you think?
well the chrome is silver
chrome is chrome.  paint is paint
this is the two tone.
there you go.
I thought it was De-nah-li.
what?
you say De nal ee.
do i?
dad, what's the matter?
Attempt 3:  set your back, from the low hang, big jump. to the CHIN!  Hands under "GO DAD!"
walk it home.  Lock it up, back it in.  Think about letting the boy drive home, decide against it.

Stop on the way for motorcycle battery charger.

Merry May

a)
Every 40 sec for 4 min: 1 power snatch+2 snatch grip push press (as a complex) at least 80%  (Im gonna try to be at 120-125)

Every 40 sec for 4 min: 2 power cleans+1push jerk at least 70% (Trying for 135)

3RFT: 400m/10 thrusters 115

Rest 10 minutes

10min max distance row


b)
7x1 2 position clean (floor, 2" above)+1jerk, heavy as you can get.  60 sec rest

4x3 clean 1st pull w/3 count pause at knee. 60 sec rest

4x4 1.25 front squat heavier than last time 60 sec rest (hoping for 150-55)

6 rounds for total work time: row 20 cal/15 burpees.  In rounds 1-3 rest 1:1, in rounds 4-6 rest .5:1

3min max #250 sled drag

3x8 GHD raise
3x20 reverse hyp

disturbin' the peace!

Ludacris show Fri night.  Felt more like a chaperone than a patron.  As Luda himself told us several times, there's [sic] just too many hits to choose from.  But could a casual fan be forgiven expecting "Saturday?"  Puma suedes, of course.  Red hoodie, natch.  Saw not a little bit of bumping, grinding and backing it up. Or as the prudish say, frank depictions of the sex act.  Indeed, how low can you go? Oh and fair amount of skin:  it seems lace and "muscle" shirts are making a comeback.  And just guessing: carbohydrate sources abound in the Millersville U chow line.  That sounds snarky but one dear needed help getting out of the bottom of her squat.  Lost lumbar curve, totally quad dominant.  I'm concerned for their safety.  Or maybe just 40.  (+) When I move, you move.  Just like that.

Next three:

1)
7x3 banded (speed) deads 75%+25%
7x3 bench heavier than last week
10 min 3xunder and HS practice
10min AMRAP: 10 pull ups/15 hp snatch #75
20 pushup

4x500m row  1:2, 1:1.5, 1:1


2)
15 min 1RM snatch, 15 min 1RM C&J
1x20 HBBS heavier than last week, ass to ankles (if you have said range)
"Amanda" 9-7-5  muscle up/squat snatch (135 is rx.  I'll probably be at 115)

4min max 200# sled drag


3)
7x1 2pos snatch (floor and 2in off)
5x3 snatch 1st pull w/three sec pause at knee, heaviest possible
For time: 30 push press 135/30 box jump 30"/30 CTB/30 HSPU

3x20 Reverse hyper
3x25 UB GHD sit

pawned my Smith-Corona

3x-2x

Outlaw goes 3 on-one off-2 on-one off.  I like the reliable rest day so I'm gonna give it a whirl

the next two (Fri/Sat):

1) EMOM 7min: 1 power snatch 80% + 2 behind neck push presses w/snatch grip (can rack)
EMOM 7min: 2 power cleans (touch and go) + 1 push jerk 70%

20 wall ball/40pullup/20wb/40boxjump/20wb/40ringdip/20wb/40kb 1.5/20wb

3RFT: 4 rope climb/12 push press 95/16 GHD sit


2) 7x2 High hang clean + jerk  heaviest possible 60 sec rest
4x3 clean first pull, heavy  60 sec rest
4x2 1 1/4 squat heavier than last week 60 sec rest

4min max sled drag 200#

3x10 GHD raise
3x10 reverse hyper

Links you may find edifying:

Whole 9

Taubes

Sugar

Snack foods

Sweet Tooth

Come on gimme some a that novocaine, come on gimme some a that novocaine, keep the sugar comin' through a candy straw, I don't wanna feel no pain.

RED BUD!

next three:

!) 7x3 banded deadlifts.  50%1RM bar weight+20% band "weight"  60 sec rest
7x3 Bench, work up to 3RM
15 min double/triple under and Handstand practice
5RFT: 25 split jumps/5 power snatch/25 hand release (HR) push ups
4x500m row with work:rest ratios--1:3-1:2-1:1

@) 15 min 1RM snatch
15 min 1RM C & J

1x20 HBBS (70% or thereabout)

1 up to 5 muscle up/10 to 2 even reps ascending C&J (95-105-120-135-150)

21-15-9 1.5 KB/row 500/T2B

#) 7x2 hi-hang snatch heaviest possible
5x3 snatch first pull, heavier than last week
5x3 tempo HBBS @ 75% 60 sec

40 burpees/50 DU/30 burpees/50 DU/20 burpees/50 DU/row 1K

3x3 BB TGU (weighted 55-75) 45 sec
3xME UB T2B 45sec

heart attack