Are you crazy?!

I've heard the question more than a few times, usually by people that know what they're doing and are genuinely concerned for my safety. Are you crazy?! I chuckle every time it happens. This last time though, I may have finally met the adversary I've been searching for.


I'm not an imposing figure. I'm built like a cyclist, and for a while, I was a very good one. People still called me crazy back then, because I stopped to buy cigarettes during a century ride or fashioned homemade, studded snow tires and rode all over Crestline and Lake Arrowhead during winter. Come to think of it, that was pretty crazy.


Almost two years ago, I'd taken my son to his karate class and happened upon some guys practicing Krav Maga in the next room. Not since I was in the Coast Guard had I been taught some Krav Maga, but recognized the points of reference immediately. I signed up that evening on a one year contract.


I'm a terrible fighter. I over think everything, and as a result suffer greatly from Hick's law which has translated to a few drops of my blood on the mat. Nothing serious, yet; but I'm reminded that I still suck.


I began working out on my off days from Krav because I was gassing in class. Fighting is a very anaerobic activity, and I quickly found my nearly bottomless aerobic capacity was useless if I was on my back. I worked out 3 times a week and studied Krav twice, keeping two rest days.


Another year later and I added Karate to the mix. A 1st degree black belt is a "before you're 40" goal, but it complicates my regimen so it's worth mentioning. But the point is that after a year of serious training, I was still occasionally gassing in class and constantly exhausted.


I grew up with the Kinnick boys, and was there the day the lone Kinnick girl was born. They're family even if we don't share blood. Sometime after I'd moved to Texas, my mother was telling me I should try CrossFit like she does at the Kinnick's gym. I Google'd CrossFit, saw how much equipment was required, and that was the end of that. With the family's tuition at karate, the cost of supplements and Bowflex payments, the last thing I could afford was equipping a box in my garage that was going to sap even more of my energy. Plus, my mom was doing it at the time! My mom! (even though she does hold a black belt in Tae Kwon Do)


Last August, I returned to California to bury my Grandfather and stopped by to see the CrossFit Kinnick Affiliate in Upland. Jeremy Kinnick was always a big kid, now he's a beast with a gentle smile. I'd been following his progress and participation in the CrossFit community on Facebook for a while, but still felt I didn't have the time, money or energy to commit to integrating CrossFit into my routine.


This St. Patrick's Day, I snapped and decided that I was going to try my first WOD. A WOD (pronounced 'wäd) is the CrossFit Workout Of the Day. WOD's have names like Cindy, Helen and Fran. Some are named after heroes, like Lt. Michael Murphy who was killed in Afghanistan in 2005. Murph consists of a 1 mile run, 100 pull-ups, 200 push-ups, 300 squats and another 1 mile run for time. A proper Murph is done wearing a 20# weight vest or full body armor because that's how Lt. Murphy liked to do it. I thought, this is it! I have everything I need to do this WOD and it's just push-ups and stuff like that. I even had a 20# vest.


I announced on Facebook that my first WOD was going to be Murph. A few minutes later, Jeremy Kinnick asked, "Your first WOD is going to be MURPH???? R u CRAZY!!!!"


I failed miserably and only completed a quarter of the push-ups, pull-ups and squats, but I'd experienced CrossFit and now I'm screwed. The next workout was Cindy, then Tabata Something Else and Cindy Meets Barbara. I got an account on beyondthewhiteboard.com, our Bowflex is on Craigslist, Sara and I have been eating Paleo for almost 2 months straight, I'm meeting Barbara this evening and I hear, "are you crazy?" at least once a week now.

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Paleo Penguin

Why can't I just leave well enough alone? You know how I get though; it's all or nothing. So, we're eating like cavemen for the next 30 days to see what happens.

I'm in Day 2 and feeling good about things despite a cold that has my nose running and me coughing occasionally. Sara's been fantastic. She spent all afternoon, yesterday preparing meals and packaging everything for possible transport to the microwave or work for us. I don't even know how to explain all the rules about eating caveman style, but she's already on-board.

Couple this with a new CrossFit regime and we should see some dramatic improvements in my physical performance soon. If not, then it's on to Zone and try another strict 30 days. After that it's a whiskey binge and a few El Cubano cigars. Either way, in 60 days I plan on feeling GREAT!

Comments, suggestions, unheeded warnings and what-have-you are welcome

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The One Man Band

As time permitted, I took a few pictures as I built out the server room of our new corporate headquarters. I didn't take nearly enough pictures to make a decent stop motion event, but I didn't have much spare time either.

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Apathy Tick & Tock

I've yet to see a better equipped organization accomplish so little, require so much time, and charge so much for the pleasure of their monopoly on the racket. Sure, you can pay someone else, but you're still using AT&T's lines. These guys have it down to a science too, with everyone I meet giving a different excuse as to why they can't get the job done on time. The engineer is the only one not blaming another department and still tries to tell me that he's right on the promised schedule.

There are a few other utilities yet to grace our new location. And I'm afraid I'll drive AT&T to complete my circuits before we have water. At the moment, the staff thinks they're waiting on me before we can move in; I'll bet no one remembers this delay the first time they need to drop a deuce and half the toilets still don't flush.

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Yeah, I'm Published...

My father once asked me, "Why don't you write?". The conversation continued until I thought aloud with honesty, "How egotistical is that?!" To truly write would be to acknowledge that I feel what I'm doing is deserving of your, or anyone else's, attention; It's to say that I feel I'm good enough for someone else to read. Well, I obviously feel that way to some extent or this posting itself would as useless as an ashtray on a motorcycle.

Long story, short. I'm the newest contributing author at Androidsocialmedia.com. My first article was posted this morning. I think the last time I had something published was a letter to the editor of Mountain Bike magazine 20 years ago, they transposed two words and I looked like an idiot for their mistake. But enough about me...

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The Slope Toward 2012

If 2012 is to host the end of the world as we know it, why is everyone so critical of 2009? We knew, or at least felt going into this year, that it would be a bust if we survived. Most of us have, although there have been casualties. Where are we? How'd you fare? Inconsequential questions.

I enter 2010 in the best shape of my life. My wife is beautiful and the kids are more than I could have ever hoped for. Work is great, we quit smoking, bought a house, and it all feels like a transition.

Perhaps we're too busy that it all feels precariously balanced. This new year I shall resolve to enjoy the journey and not focus so much on the arrival of our destinations like rocks through windows.

Now as the year comes to an end, another day begins. Here we go.

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Good Luck, Neighbor

I feel bad for the guy, he was out there all afternoon doing what took the kids and I a couple hours at most. We cleared the leaves off our lawns, we washed the cars; although one of mine was a motorcycle that I rode dry with just my Chargers hat on my head, you wore the familiar headband with matching socks, my wife is at work in scrubs, yours is dragging a brush along the rims of your Explorer in gloved hands of rubber, an Asian stepford wife perhaps, I helped my kid into a tree and yelled at him to climb it better, so don't feel like an ass that your voice cracked like a 14 year old boy's as you chased yours into the street for playing football in your 15+ newly raked piles of leaves. So good luck to you neighbor/lawn ninja. I won today, but it is early in our fued. Do not give up hope; even if I get a gym for Christmas and begin achieving the body of Brad Pitt in Snatch by the time I'm the same age, I might not get a gym, or I might wait a day or let two pass before installing it and working out religiously with the doors open wide. Good luck, neighbor.

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