Lil Nuggets

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B Fox and Moser (Maui No Ka Oi!)

Years ago, I participated in a weekend of Olympic Weightlifting with the Texas crew as they were trying to form a training cert to compliment their strength training cert. I had already been warned that it would be a grueling 36 hours that would include lecture time along with 5 hard training sessions. Truth be told, I was honored to be able to participate and I held my own as the eldest lifter of the group.

One of the visiting coaches was Jim Moser, fresh in from Maui (Maui No Ka Oi!) and ready to bring his Island coaching to the weekend. His relax man approach was a fun detour from the structured, no rest for the weary, weekends we were used to. His lecture style was shoot from the hip and it took me a little while to adjust from the bullet points and ultra prepared cert style I’d spent so many weekends listening to.

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Hunter looks on as Jim Moser compliments Anthony Pomponio’s lat spread. (Maui No Ka Oi!)

I found myself drifting off here and there when Jim laid down this Lil Nugget of knowledge…Always strive to raise your minimum in the gym. Wait, what? Yup, every time you walk into the gym, know what your absolute; feel like shit; ate like crap; no sleep, minimum is for a lift and work to raise that number over time. Top numbers are for meets, get better in your everyday. I loved it.

I still think about that advice a lot. It’s the most meaningful advice I took away from a weekend of intense lifting and lecture time. OH! Also, in true York Barbell fashion, we would line up to lift a weight and once the person in front of you was done, you would be expected to be lifting that bar as soon as it settled on the platform. At some point on Sunday morning, I finally threw the white flag and said I needed to rest more than the 40 seconds I was allotted with our small group of women. Jim looked over at the men’s platform and sheepishly said, “Oh right, the men have almost three times as many people as you girls. You can slow down.” NO FUCKING SHIT!!!!! Our pace significantly slowed enough for us to actually hit some of our top lifts. While it was actually kind of funny, always be thankful if you’re sucking air to have an old lady or man speak up and give you an extra few seconds of rest. You’re welcome.

There ya go, 36 hours; 5 hard training sessions; countless lectures, and one amazing steak dinner on Saturday night and I took away one thing that has stuck with me.

And really, I learned an even bigger thing that weekend. That no matter how much time or money is invested into becoming a better athlete (this applies in all walks of life actually but we’ll focus on lifting and throwing for now cuz it’s mah jam) you may only walk away with one little nugget of information that will pay out dividends in the future. And that’s awesome. If you get more out of something, kudos. Good on ya. But that one golden nugget may have an amazing impact on how you approach training for success and aren’t you a lucky girl?

Because of that weekend, I now look for those Lil Nuggets that will turn my training or practicing on it’s ears and suddenly make sense of confusing concepts. Enter last week and a Facebook post by our good friend, Big Daddy (that’s all you need to say, if you’re a thrower, you know who that is) who made a comment that someone without “X” years of experience shouldn’t be writing a book on training. Yes, he was calling someone out specifically. Yes, it is the main reason I’ve deactivated my Facebook account for now. JC folks, there are real problems in the world and this post garnered over 150 comments. I.Just.Can’t.

Anyways, the post had the usual suspects of Ya Man, fok that! and the other side of Uh Uh, they may have something to say. Give ’em a chance. Boring. While I’m a firm believer that we all get to have our own opinion on shit (usually mine is right), I also have a different point of view from our pal. See, that training/throwing manual (that I haven’t read) may have just ONE lil nugget in there that will affect your gym or field time and pay out dividends. Just ONE. Maybe more, but unless the book is in the hundreds of dollars isn’t it worth a few bucks for ONE POSSIBLE AH-HA MOMENT?

I’ve been around throwers now for about 5 years. It’s been fabulous; and so much fun, and so incredibly frustrating that not telling someone to shut the fuck up becomes the focus of the day rather than throwing far. Standard cues are repeated for every toss that actually means shit to what the person is doing mechanically. Even throwers who throw supes far don’t always know what they’re doing right or wrong and will give a novice thrower supes stupid advice because it’s what they do and they throw far.(Attention novice throwers everywhere! Sometimes people throw really far with technical imperfections that doesn’t mean shit because at the end of the day, they understand how to move in the space; are super strong, and have physical aptitude to be an awesome thrower. They’ve been throwing since they were in junior high and have been removed from novice status for so long, they’ve forgotten what it feels like to not understand how to instantly place a hammer into “orbit” or block or whatever else the cue is. You’re not them. You need solid mechanics. Go see K.O.)

I’ve literally asked some Pro’s questions and received answers such as, “I have no idea, I just do it.” I appreciate those answers though, because then I don’t waste my time trying to replicate whatever I saw that seemed to bring success.

On to Instagram. It belongs here, really. (This is where a judge on Law & Order would say, “get there faster counselor.”) I have stated before that I have learned more from Instagram than I ever thought I could. One throw that scrolls across my feed can make sense of concepts and attempts to do things than practice ever could. A stone throw from Mike Beech is one of these posts (you can tell me all day to use more legs in a throw but until I see it and try it, it will fall on deaf ears.) People I don’t know toss out those Lil Nuggets every day and all I have to do is sift through the attention whoring; sports bra and shortie shorts wearing, bikini clad date seeking bimbo’s with the “I just hate my body, see all of it here. Isn’t it horrible, here, look up my ass and tell me how I have value” posts to find them.

Lifting is the same way on the IG. Sometimes it’s subtle and at other times it is a punch in the face, DO THIS! I try it and OH HEY, it works! It has accelerated progress at very low cost (my time. There are too many minutes spent on social networks, another reason Facebook is out. I must be better than that. I must give attention to around me rather than in FB land. IG has value for me so that stays…for now.)

In conclusion, buy that books. Watch those videos. Listen to that thrower/lifter. Hit those throws practices. Seek Lil Nuggets that will set you apart from others BUT, do so with discerning eyes and ears. Just because someone does something better than you doesn’t mean things out of their mouth are valuable.  On the flip side of that, just because someone hasn’t been doing something very long doesn’t mean everything out of their mouth is wrong. In fact, I believe that someone newer to a sport later in life who has figured things out faster than others has VERY valuable things to say. Hell, I’ve taught hammer throwing to women who never touched the thing and instantly threw further than my average on day one. Yay that I understand it enough to teach; Boo that I suck throwing it.

Ask questions, don’t ever (IMO) show blind faith in someone’s words. Make them explain the reason for exercises. If mechanics can’t be explained, well, buyer beware. Seek, but be selective in what you find.

And don’t fight on Facebook. Find something better to do. Go make coffee; or have sex; or train; or throw; or carry an old ladies groceries (but not mine. I’m good.)

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A very normal image as to what my desk looked liked at the end of those home field work weekends looked like.

Maui No Ka Oi!

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Burn Her!

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If you haven’t seen the movie Hansel & Gretel, go ahead and do it. It’s pretty fun and the witch scenes are super cool. I like movies that entertain and don’t fucking lecture from Hollywood writers and actors on how I should be living my life. 

This past weekend, the hubs and I hit the road and drove a whirlwind New England tour that included the worlds greatest Pizza (Pepe’s in New Haven); Chinese dumplings (Portland), and of course a Lobstah roll (Bahston.) We had amazing beer in Lipswich and came upon a restaurant in New Hampshire that had been flipped by Robert Irvine along a stream overlooking a covered bridge. I can now say that I understand why everyone says New England is beautiful. It truly took my breath away in many parts and due to the warm fall, there were still many colors on the trees that mirrored in the crystal clear waters in the many lakes and streams. It was stunning. I absolutely loved it. If we weren’t so old and tired, we really could have whooped it up but we did our best and coming home craving protein and eggs tells me I did my junk food consumption proud!

One stop I really wanted to make was Salem. I have always had an intrusive curiosity of the witch trials in Salem and the fact that these events have been so romanticized in books, movies, and television persuade  young girls  to believe that being a witch and perhaps being burned (didn’t happen by the way) would be “Super cool.” I had sent a note off to our Tavern tour guide in Boston asking if she knew of any Salem tours that weren’t cheesy. Her quick reply, nope. Uhhhh, okay. Direct but that’s what I wanted. Because of  our Tavern Tour in Boston and her expertise and professional way it was delivered, we have high expectations for tours. However, we decided to stop for a few hours anyway, have a snack and tour around ourselves a bit and see what’s what in Salem.

After having some noms Calamari and cocktails, we walked to a local cemetery that included the grave sites of some of the famous of Salem and alongside held a very sweet memorial to the victims of the witch hysteria. witch1

People left various prizes for the victims on these stone benches jutting out from a stone wall and from now on, I’ll always travel with a little something to leave in case the opportunity arises again to pay homage to the situation.

While walking around the cemetery, there were two tour groups huddled together separately with both tour guides giving their take of the witch trials. It was horrible. Cheesy while wearing costumes and trying to charm the tour customers. Using their voices to try to bring fear to some words while humor to others. Theater. Disrespectful. Awful.

We quickly hot stepped it out of there and moved on to the memorial. Better. I don’t know quite how to explain it, the energy was smooth. Flowers and beads, candles and even dolls left on various benches brought a lighter feel but it was still very respectful. I liked it. We walked to each bench and read each name. Most of these women were turned in as witches by their husbands. I cannot fathom the betrayal felt prior to the fear and knowledge that they were about to be killed because their husband wanted to feed a mob. Kinda takes asshole to a different level eh?

Anyways.

It had a FAR better energy than the cemetery itself and along with a gorgeous, sunny and 70’s day, we had a nice 10 minutes walk around the memorial. Until the end. That’s when a tour of four or five people stopped at the very end of the memorial so we were somewhat blocked off. Now, while I will always show respect to the locals and especially someone just making a living, this tour guide was horrible. Barely able to fit into his 5XL Pats jersey, talking while trying to catch his breath from the presumably walk around the corner and looking as if he’s ready to drop at any moment so someone can just roll him into the cemetery and let him  decompose on his own, his whole demeanor was “Just give me my money and let me stop walking.”

It gets worse. Two of his attendees, also whipped from whatever walk they just had, sat their fat asses on one of the memorial benches while listening to Pats jersey guy trying to catch his breath. Crushing whatever gifts left for the spirits and energy of that particular victim without even a glance. FOK!

That was it. We’re out of here. Fuck this place. I imagine in three hundred years this is what the Oklahoma City bombing memorial will look like. Or the Trade Center memorial. People treating it as a joke and a way to earn a buck. Because this is how it starts. Right now. The way we’re heading.

The disrespect starts quietly and gains momentum based on what the current mob mentality is. Currently it is that traditional values are viewed as racist and white supremacist. Loving your country is frowned upon at best, ridiculed at worst. This past week, the President of the management group of the Green Bay Packers praised his players for wanting to use their work as a platform for “change.”

Uhhhhh, ok. Which “change” exactly are we discussing? “Change” of the high rate of domestic violence in your league? Drug abuse? Murder? Drunk Driving? Black on Black crime within their own inner cities? Which platform do you want to change cuz that sounds pretty cool. I mean, I dunno what protesting the National Anthem has to do with that but anyways, which “change” are we talking about?

While they sit their asses on the memorial benches of veterans and police who have died trying to make THEIR America better, which “change” have they affected? None. But they have their beloved Press (nee “Mob”) and are ensured to be viewed in some kind of positive light even while they sit their millionaire fat asses on the memorial benches of Americans.

Eventually, the people of Salem realized that the people they murdered were probably not witches and “oops.” 300 plus years later, we can still talk about this dark period in our history and, hopefully, pay homage to those affected. I wonder if in another 300 years, Americans will be able to discuss issues WE’VE fucked up with respect and learn from our mistakes.

Basically, will they be better than us? I just really, really hope so.

How strangely will the Tools of a Tyrant pervert the plain Meaning of Words!

Samuel Adams

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Narrative

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This week, Cam Newton; according to the weaselly Mike of Mike and Mike show, set back black quarterbacks in the NFL 30 years by making a comment that he thought it was funny (funny weird not funny haha) that a woman reporter was asking him about zone plays. Or something like that. I don’t care. First off, fuck off NFL. You started the process of not being welcome in our home last year and solidified it this year. We literally will watch Return of the King on TNT for the 847th time before an NFL game.

Now, I did hear about the comment on morning radio and thought it was funny. And true. Look, there are women (and even some men) who understand football and really just appreciate the game. I’m one of those and to be honest, I really thought I knew the game until I started banging a former football player (it’s ok, I married him so the gods approve) and he’s taught me so much more that now I can recognize plays forming and even (sometimes) understand the difference between a lineman and a linebacker. Sometimes.

But Cam fucked up and the MSM told us to be outraged about his comment. Sponsors fired him; he tearfully (I really don’t know if he tried to summon a tear. It just fits the narrative better and all we want these days is narrative) apologized and stated his words were unacceptable. Unacceptable. Jesus. We allow millions of unborn children to be murdered every year; children to be tortured and abused by their own parents, and four thousand other heinous crimes in America every day but doG forbid some athlete say something honest and stupid. At this point I view the media as a flowing fog that is just flying through the air of America looking for some inane topic to attach itself to and when they find it, they sink their teeth in and unleash hell.

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It’s actually Saturday and I surprisingly feel pretty good but I just really thought this was funny. Please to enjoy.

We live in an age where everything is offensive. But wait a minute. If everything is offensive, nothing can be offensive. It’s so fucking diluted that Joe Public is reading the paper to see what they should uprise against on any given day.

Oh hey, last week my son and his friends took part in a protest in Madison to legalize medical marijuana. I asked if they angrily raced their fists and he says, “Mom, everyone was stoned. No one was angry.” There ya go. More pot, less angry Americans.

 

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I dunno, I would really just love if all of those outraged at Cam Newton could gather together and direct said rage at the IOC and all athletic organizations who are allowing boys and men to infiltrate their female classes and steal medals and records set by girls and women. Because that would actually mean something. But that would take work and work doesn’t fit the narrative.

 

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First World problems…or, errrrr…

 

I miss Benny Hill. Sunday nights were Benny Hill and then the Smother Brothers. The Smother Brothers looked like Sunday school teachers after Benny Hill but being able to laugh at it all was a gift. Throw in an episode of Get Smart and Monty Python and you’ve got a perfect fuckin’ night. See, that’s what America is missing. Benny Hill. Laughing at outrageously inappropriate and offensive content.

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See, in the olden days, we had enemies. Real enemies that posed a threat to the freedoms that Americans hold dear. But now we’re told to embrace cultures that directly oppose American values. By god, can you imagine if President Reagan would have said, “Mr. Gorbachev, we would prefer if you tore down that wall but we want to be respectful of your culture and values so really, just do what you want and we’ll all go out for Schnitzel afterwards. Well, in West Germany that is.”

See, for whatever reason, some in America want Americans to be the common enemy of Americans. And you’re letting them. Every overreaction. Every fake offensive outcry. Every time you refuse to listen to another’s point of view. Every fake news story shared. Gods, remember when Fake news was funny? The Onion. That was funny shit and NOTHING was off limits. Now, we’re ready to jump on each other (and not in a fun, happy ending kind of way) for any perceived slight. It’s boring. Stop it. Be nice. Be honest. Be honorable. Stop fighting on the Facebook, above all else, stop fighting on the Facebook. Stop contributing to this shit. Allow another view in your home without resorting to calling names. None of this “agree to disagree” bullshit. It’s called disagree and it’s perfectly okay. Matt and I do it all the time and still seem to live in perfect harmony. (Okay, we’re not a fucking Coke commercial but you get the point.)

Stop making your fellow Americans the enemy. Stop allowing the media to push a narrative that pits you against your neighbor (unless your neighbor is Francis. He’s an asshole and probably a Commie anyway.) American values are to be celebrated. Strong family units without the bullshit. Strong marriages (by the way, I am always inspired by strong marriages. There’s no secret to them. Folks just decide to wake up each day, support and stay married to their person. In a non-abusive situation, I find that inspiring.) Sunday dinner. Old time shit.

And laugh. By gods, laugh. Somewhere along time Americans have stopped laughing at funny, unacceptable nasty shit. Mel Brooks; Monty Python; Benny Hill; AbFab. Whatever it is that makes you laugh, laugh.

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Mongo only pawn in the game of life.

Mongo

 

 

 

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