All In Until The Win

Posted on May 1, 2014 by tosabarbell

The Minnesota Sports radio guys were having fun talking about the upcoming Game 7 between the Wild and the Av’s yesterday. Excitement was in the air, folks were stoked.

As usual in sport talk, there were speculations and predictions. Lot’s of “If this or  that happens we can win” and such. And then someone stated the ultimate cliche’…They’ll need to give 100% for 60 minutes.

Hate. Sports. radio.

Well okay smart guy. What if they give 100% for 60 minutes but the game lasts for, oh I dunno, 65 minutes and 2 seconds? What then? We’re no longer playing 100%? But what if the other team has prepared to play 100% for 80 minutes, or 100 minutes? What then? They win just by preparing better?

Dunno. All we needed was 65 minutes and two seconds so I guess some brilliant coach decided to prepare his team for the whole game, not just the part that was originally scheduled.

The point being, obviously, that we need to prepare for the game; the event; the entire competition whatever that looks like. Those of us who compete don’t just get ready for the scheduled day. We prepare for weather conditions, food, the other competitors, equipment, everything. Everything. There is no “100% for 60 minutes.” There is only “All in until the win.”

OH! The Wild won (obviously.) They now face the Blackhawks. I don’t know how many folks remember the North Stars and Blackhawks games but they were the finest sports had to offer in my childhood. I can’t remember EVER going to a game and not seeing beer being thrown. In fact, the last time I went, I took my Dad to the old Met Center with tickets given to me by a work contact from Chicago. We marched up to a clearly Blackhawk section and the groans were immediate when they saw the Green and Gold Stars shirts we were wearing. I whirled around and took the bull by the horn by stating loudly, “Look! This is the FIRST time I get to be the one to take my DAD to a North Stars game instead of the other way around and we’re going to have a good time and get along! GET IT!” They bought us beer, so it was all good. Heh.

Go Wild! But not for just 100%, but all the way to the win.

If you ask me how I want to be remembered, it is a winner. You know what a winner is? A winner is somebody who has given his best effort, who has tried the hardest they possibly can, who has utilized every ounce of energy and strength within them to accomplish something. It doesn’t mean that they accomplished it or failed, it means that they’ve given it their best. That’s a winner.

Walter Payton

Training Log

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Friday Jams: Lapin A La Cocette

Posted on April 25, 2014 by tosabarbell

Perhaps all the dragons in our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us act, just once, with beauty and courage. Perhaps everything that frightens us is, in it’s deepest essence, something helpless that wants our love.

Rainer Maria Rilke

The first time I saw V, she walked into WFAC with skirts flowing and perfume wafting. Who. Is. This? And why the FUK does she wear so much perfume?! I was in the middle of a training session and the ladies I was with also wondered what was going on. See, women didn’t just waltz into WFAC and ‘rule the skool’ as she did. Obviously, she was somebody. But who?

After a session or two of her training, I started talking to her. Well, her name was Veronique and she was French. Like, from France. Accent and all. And though her long, flowing jet black hair was beautifully styled and all of her jewelry stayed on during her training sessions (a far cry from stinky t-shirts and shorts of the normal WFAC crew), she was obviously down to earth and here to make friends. She had history with many folks, and a Cancer scare that was trying to poke back into her life. She was happily married to her musician, teacher hubby and raising her two boys (one small, one large, both unique and so reflecting their mama.) We would chat here and there in the gym and then her French Mama came for a visit.

Now, if I’m remembering correctly, her mama was in her late 50’s. Maybe early 60’s. I DO remember that she was drop dead gorgeous and OOZED sex appeal. Like, Sophia Loren sex appeal. Is it wrong to be jealous of a 60 year old? Hope not.

Anyways. That visit was kind of a turning point. I was going through some things and V was like a lighthouse. I, along with so many, steered our ships towards her safe light and unloaded. She (and her non English speaking hot mama) told me what I NEEDED to hear to steer on the correct course (whereas so many “friends” tell us what we WANT to hear.) Not V, loving truth, even in beginning friendship.

She was there for my and Bigg’s beginning. Even one night making Rabbit Stew. I texted him and said I’m at V’s and she’s making rabbit stew. He texted back saying I have awesome friends. Yup. I do. But this fucking cancer thing…always lurking in the shadows. She was being treated, but all of her treatments were “just doing what they have to do.” She never showed fear. She never showed defeat. Just motions. Going through the motions of cancer and living life to it’s absolute fullest. Good laughs; good friends (she has so many); good wine and food; good times. So many good that it amazes me to have so many V stories in such a short span of time.

She was very closed lip’d on what was going on with her illness. Is it serious? Is it not? Is it gone? (We thought so last October, it’s one of the first times I cried in front of Matt. Thinking she was free and clear. I was so thankful I couldn’t help but let the tears flow.) That was around Halloween.

And then November happened. Matt and I were in a downward funnel of shit. Not good. Stuff building and not knowing how to stop until a night occurred where it got out of hand. I let her know things were bad, please send strong thoughts. And she was on it. STOP IT! You two love each other. You must forgive. She was one of the few who said what we NEEDED to hear, not what others told us cuz they thought we WANTED to hear. No “circling the wagons” to keep us shielded from the idea that we may need to change; no “I’ll give you a bottle of Whiskey to make it all better and send you on your drunk and angry way.”  Truth. Real. Loving. And it saved us. She. Saved. Us.

And now she’s gone. I could say she left this earth today but the clock has turned and it’s suddenly tomorrow. A day where she hasn’t been with us. Not a good day.

Paul McCartney

Blackbird

Enjoy your weekend. Please. Honor the good. Dismiss the small stuff you can. Life is bigger.

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Just Do It…(like this)

Posted on April 17, 2014 by tosabarbell

justdoit

Years ago, I trained briefly with an Olympic Weightlifting coach. I’d drive two hours (one way) for about an hour and a half session and trained with a promising up and comer strong young man who was a collegiate lifter. It was a new experience for me, training in the garage with another lifter. The coach was an Olympian, a very nice Minnesota man. In fact, I still owe him $20 towards my final session. I think of that everytime I’m in a situation where I may see him (like The Arnold.) I carry an extra $20 in case I run into him and can square up.

Anyways. My two hour trips didn’t last long. Truth be told, we never really jelled. My part of that is when I get coached, I try to do exactly what the coach tells me. I’ve written before on how that screwed me up at Games last year, getting “coached” by countless people right before attempts, I’d try to do what they told me and get all messed up. (Which is why I’ll quietly walk away from folks this year or just outright tell them that I’ll talk to them AFTER I throw. No more.) The problem is, many people have the right idea in their head but have no idea how to communicate it. Compound that with the fact that I’ll try to do exactly what they say and I’m just a big old mess.

My struggle with the Olympic lifts is when I would get walked over to the wall and be told that I need to look exactly like THIS…

…keep my back long like this and chest up. W!T!F!????

First off, I can’t keep my back “nice and long” unless I’m put on some sort of torture chamber device. My back is nice and short in comparison to my femurs. The actual exact OPPOSITE of Pyros Dimas. So we would snatch, over and over and over and anywhere from 28-30kg hoping that I would magically “get” it and start looking like him.

Ummmm, that’s not how it works folks. If your “strength” coach keeps telling you that you’re not “looking” right, fire him/her. They have no idea what they’re doing. If your coach says you need to look like Lidia Valentin as you come out of the hole, assume you mean her hair and make-up cuz that ain’t coaching. Coaching, teaching the fundamentals; laying a foundation for further learning; principles based on the mechanics of lifting, not appearances. Cuz guess what folks, these lifters are the best of the best. It’s like saying, run like Walter Payton. Well, ok, he was amazing. But what coach these days would allow their player to hold the ball as if you’re about to drop it (cough*EARLYDAYSAP*cough.) What worked for Payton worked for him but perhaps wasn’t the ideal form of running with a football being chased by really big guys who want to smash you into the ground and take away said football.

There is an interesting discussion going on right now on NASGA on just this topic (that I started. Troublemaker:) I asked about a stone put and where we want our throwing elbow. Do we want it as high as it goes, causing shoulder impingement? Or do we keep it parallel or low. ADD in the additional angle of the elbow ‘behind’ the hips or not and it’s very interesting to me. Some top notch throwers and coaches have chimed in, which I am very appreciative of, and there are a couple of different answers. As I’ve watched seemingly hours of video of some of best throwers in history, the consensus seems to be…elbows are actually all over the place. My question then, is WHY? How is force transmitted most effectively in the release?

Same goes with lifting. And running. And training. In each ‘form’ example given of a top athlete in sport, an opposite example can be pointed to by another elite athlete in the same sport. And all of that has absolutely nothing to do with a novice learning the fundamentals. Mechanics. Transmission of force. If that ain’t being discussed, then yes, you may as well talk about hair and make-up.That reminds me, I need a haircut…and some brown eye shadow.

Any intelligent fool can make things bigger and more complex…it takes a touch of genius – and a lot of courage to move in the opposite direction.

E.F. Schumacher

Training Log

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Blazing

Posted on April 15, 2014 by tosabarbell

blazing

There are at least two absolutes in life (no, not death and taxes), one; when Bohemian Rhapsody comes on the readio, you sing. Loudly. B) When you happen upon Blazing Saddles on the television, you watch it. Even if the Gopher’s are playing the Fighting Sioux (suck it NCAA) in the Frozen Four.

I mentioned last week my love for the Marx Brothers. I love watching their movies because they’re talented and talent is in short supply, has been on the Big screens for at least 20 years. They sing, dance, play all kinds of music and have a comedic timing that is a thing of beauty. But most of all, they pushed the envelope. Groucho Marx and his sexual innuendos were incredibly risque in his time although I would contend that most of his lines would now be lost on the majority of young people under 30.

There were few like him. Oh sure, Bob Hope was funny, but he was white bread. His acts were fun and silly and at times suggestive, but he kept on the right side of the line.

And then came Mel Brooks.

An obviously comedic talent, his antics with Carl Reiner are legendary. My cousin Paul and I would sit and watch Get Smart on Sunday nights and laugh are little asses off. When he came up with The Producers (a musical about Adolph Hitler), no one would touch it. No one would distribute it and it was finally shown as an art film. Brooks won an Oscar for it. After a couple of unsuccessful films, along came Blazing Saddles.

Seriously, this scene alone brings tears to my eyes. (I’ve just re-watched it five times. Laughed out loud every time.)

Racism, sexism, just plain sex, homosexuality, violence, and music (I’m sure there are other politically incorrect topics I’m not thinking of too.) All rolled into one hilarious movie. Who would dare? Mel Brooks. His other movies were fun too, Young Frankenstein plays around here from about Oct 1 until Thanksgiving.

Brooks has won an Oscar, an Emmy, a Tony, and a Grammy. Solid.

We now live in a world where no one laughs at anything. Brooks would never have made it if he were just starting out now. But Blazing Saddles brings us back to a time when we used to have sense of humors and not be so fucking serious about every thing spoken or implied. In your face humor. I still love it.

Srsly.

If you’re quiet,  you’re not living. You’ve got to be noisy, and colorful, and lively.

Mel Brooks

Training Log

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