Scaling Shouldn't Be Stupid, Part 1

I know, I know... absolutely shameful how long it's taken me to post something. I could argue I've been very busy, but it's more than likely I've just been very lazy. Fret not; I'll feed you, baby birds...

First off, the views and opinions expressed here are solely those of the author. They may or may not reflect the same ideals espoused by other trainers or coaches you have worked with. This is totally fine, but they might suck, so take that into consideration as well. Either way, this issue has been chapping my ass for a while now, so out with it, I suppose.

Let's get one thing straight: scaling is important and necessary for most everyone. If a workout is designed to take someone less than 10 minutes, then it should be scaled to achieve this end. This isn't to say that if it takes you 10:35 or 12:01 to finish the workout, that all is lost and you should quit exercising forever. There may just be some minor adjustments needed in the future. But if a 10 minute workout takes you 27 minutes, you fucked up and - more importantly - missed the point. This is why it's important to confer with your coach before your workout, log all of your numbers/times/loads, and be aware of your own abilities and limitations.

The fact of the matter is that a good amount of people out there can't do everything prescribed. If you choose to do "Diane" prescribed and your best deadlift is 250lbs, then I hate you. Put your ego away, tighten up, and take some weight off the bar. Workouts like "Diane" and "Fran" are supposed to take less than 5 minutes. If you slog through it for 12 minutes, then it's not the same workout. Any intensity or power is lost and subsequently converted to movement for the sake of motion. You're better served scaling the workout and finishing it faster.

This guy has every right to do "Diane" prescribed

Alright, enough lecturing, let's get down the nitty-gritty and talk about which scaling options piss me right the shit off...

Double-unders
As far as a "functional movement" goes, double-unders aren't terribly high on the list. Their main purpose as I see it is to maintain coordination and rhythm when you're tired. While I doubt this would carry over to coitus, it's nice to think it might since rhythm and coordination are crucial in that arena.

CrossFit.com suggests doing tuck jumps if double-unders are not developed yet. Their reasoning is that "multiple single-unders in no way compensate for the exertion required for double-unders." My main issue with this is that substituting a double-under with a tuck jump takes the rope entirely out of the equation. If people need to improve or develop their double-unders, what use does eliminating the jump rope do?

With this problem in mind, a compromise I find most effective is to split the reps between single-unders and tuck jumps. This offers several benefits:

1) The exertion of tuck jumps
2) The development of jumping rope technique (while fatigued as well)
3) Decreased chance of injury with reduced repetitions i.e. people shouldn't be doing 400 fucking tuck jumps in a workout

Obviously, this approach needs to be adjusted on a case by case basis. Some quick examples...

"Annie"
50-40-30-20-10
Double-unders
Sit-ups

For someone with no double-unders at all, this workout would be excellent for tuck jumps and single-unders. It would look like this...

25 single-unders
25 tuck jumps
50 sit-ups
20 single-unders
20 tuck jumps
40 sit-ups
etc...

This would allow the person to still complete the workout quickly, become highly "exerted" from tuck jumps, and work on jumping rope while tired. Also, this workout is best whenever this girl does it.

If a workout calls for 100 double-unders at some point, rather than doing 50/50, it'd likely be better to do 25/25/25/25. This way you're not doing too many tuck jumps at a time.

The most important takeaway from this discussion, especially in relation to double-unders, is that you have to practice. Your skills don't improve during metcons. They improve when you devote time to skill development.

More movement scaling to come - Stay tuned!

The Gunfight Update!

So we're only a few days out from The Gunfight: Honor Every Second. This Saturday, April 23rd, will mark the one year anniversary of Amanda Miller's departure from this life. Amanda was tough competitor, a friend to many, and an inspiration to all. This event is our tribute to her. Any and all donations received will go to the Melanoma Research Foundation to assist in their endeavor to combat this awful disease.

Amanda Rose Miller: July 16, 1985 - April 23, 2010

Schedule
The event kicks off at 10AM with workout heats going until 2PM. Heats will consist of 4-5 people and will run every 15 minutes. Afterwards, there will be grilling and drinking. Classic Balance Gym style.


The Workout
At the 2010 CrossFit Games, the first event was named after Amanda to memoralize her in the annals of CrossFit. We felt there'd be no better way to remember her than to do that very same workout.

"Amanda"
9-7-5
Muscle-up
Snatch (135/95)

As this workout will be extremely tough - if not downright impossible - for some people, we have provided the following scaled versions so anyone of any skill, strength, or fitness level can participate.

Scaling Options:
21-15-9
C2B Pull-up
Power snatch + OHS (Load options: 135/115/95/75/65)

21-15-9
Pull-up
Power snatch (95/65)

21-15-9
Pull-up (band-assisted)
OHS (Load options: 95/75/65/55/45)


Donations
People are encouraged to donate on site either via cash or check. All proceeds will go directly to the Melanoma Research Foundation. If you're unable to attend, you're still encouraged to donate online HERE. Anyone who donates $100 or more online or on the day of the event will have his or her name put into a drawing for a free, one-hour Olympic lifting training session with yours truly. Singlet will be worn if so requested.


Other Info
I've been contacted by John Weiss of CrossFit 757 in Norfolk and they will be holding a similar event this Saturday. They will also be raising money for the MRF. Big thanks to him, his gym, and his clients for their support.

As I've mentioned before, Dave Lipson of 365 Days of Squatting is also in the midst of a brutal tribute to Amanda. He squats at least 450lbs. Every day. For an entire year. Dave has teamed up with AgainFaster to sell Amanda Miller t-shirts to also benefit the MRF. I highly recommend them. The material is great and the design is awesome - two pistols on the hips, just like Amanda's.


About Amanda
For more information about Amanda and her struggle with melanoma, please refer to her blog here. Her friend Emily posted the following in the comments after Amanda's passing...

"In this legacy you have left for all of us to ponder and reread whenever we struggle, you have touched countless lives, probably more than you could comprehend in life. Your short time on this earth and epic battle with an aggressive disease will be talked about and used as an example of the way to live life. Never let anything stop you and never give up. I love you to pieces, girl. I will carry you with me in my heart through every competition, struggle, and challenge in life."

Competing Yet?

Okay, I admit it - these blog post titles are getting ri-goddamn-diculous, but bear with me, as this should be my last installment on competition (for now, at least). This past Sunday was the first-ever Capital City Open at Balance Gym Kalorama right here in Washington, DC. Personally, I think it was a huge success. Over 55 lifters competed, male and female, ranging from a bright-eyed 16 year-old kid to a 40 year-old former Lebanese National Team member.

Two weeks ago, to prepare mentally and physically, a group of us organized a mock meet. It was an opportunity to find out what our openers would likely be, how a weightlifting meet works, and most importantly, lifting in a singlet (one of the greatest privileges in sport). Two weeks later, the Capital City Open was upon us...

Here's a breakdown of each lifter's performance...

Sai hit her first snatch easily - something many people struggle with in their first meet due to nerves and all. On her second snatch, she lost tightness in the bottom, and regrouped like a badass to recover and stand. Unfortunately, her arm bent at the bottom and the judges red-lighted her lift. Her third attempt also got a bit wobbly, so the bar went back and fell forward after she tried to correct. Later, she annihilated all of her clean & jerks. In retrospect, I should have forced/tricked/persuaded her into going higher on them, but I'm happy she went 3 for 3 on them.

Lauren missed our mock meet because of a trip to Vegas. She hit her first two snatches quite handily with power snatches. Her hesitance to get under the bar was evident on her third attempt, though, as she couldn't quite finish her third attempt. The fact that the bar was elevated enough to nick her forehead means she has a lot more in her. For her clean & jerks, Lauren also went 3 for 3, again opting for the power versions. She finished with a PR of 59kg.

Quick note: The difference between Sai and Lauren is very interesting. Sai has excellent technique, but needs to get a lot stronger. Lauren, on the other hand, is very strong, but needs to further develop her technique. These differences aside, they both performed great at their first meet.

After an amazing women's session (one 58kg girl clean & jerked 87kg!) it was onto Nick's and my session. Nick (69kg Master Division) went pretty conservative with his openers as it was only his second meet. He is still have some bar path issues with his snatch because of an early hip rise, but he ended up hitting 71kg on his final attempt. Some other issues arose with his clean & jerks. He opened solidly with 90kg, missed 96kg because of a press out, and then hit 101kg like a champ. Short as a mouse, but strong as an ox. As we continue to iron out his technique, his numbers will only go up.

Personally, I (77kg Senior Division) hit several meet PRs. I hit 76kg on my second snatch and missed 80kg because I'm a pansy. Still need to strengthen my overhead position, but looking at the video, 80kg shouldn't be giving me problems... ya know... if I man up already. At my last meet, my final clean & jerk was 94kg. At this meet, 94kg was my opener. I then hit 100kg to match my PR, and then finished with 103kg to set a new personal best. All in all, a damn solid day.

And lastly, there was Chris (85kg Senior Division). Chris was very quiet before his session, but I couldn't tell if it was nervousness or focus. I think it was a little of both. He decided to open with 90kg, a weight he has routinely hit in training. He put a huge amount of velocity into the bar, let his hips rise early, and just missed it behind. We only jumped a kilo to give him a little rest and to ensure he got on the board. He hit it with ease. From there, we went for a PR attempt of 96kg, which he couldn't finish. On his clean & jerks, he hit his opener and missed his second attempt of 118kg because of an incomplete pull. Since we were only 3kg away from a potential PR, we said screw it, and loaded it up to 121kg. Unfortunately, his drive was a bit sluggish. In the end, he only hit 2 out of 6... but because his openers were so high, he finished in 2nd Place in the 85kg Senior Division, arguably always the most competitive division at a local meet.

So in the end, five lifters went in - three with absolutely no meet experience at all (Sai, Lauren, and Chris) - and everyone did amazing. Sai finished 1st in her weight class, while Lauren took 1st in hers as well. Nick took 1st in the 69kg Masters. I finished in 2nd for 77kg Seniors and Chris took 2nd in the 85's.

All in all, it was an exhausting but incredible experience for all. Everyone was almost anxious and eager for another meet. The truth is, there's no real reason not to compete in something. Hell, I actually knew I would finish in 2nd Place because Tyler Miller competed and I don't live as much as he does... yet. But that's the beauty of it. You come, compete, meet new friends, test yourself, and just have fun.

So with that in mind, be sure to come out to The Gunfight: Honor Every Second, our Amanda Miller fundraiser for the Melanoma Research Foundation, on April 23rd! Donations can be made HERE!

Thanks to everyone who attended to show their support for all of the Balance Gym athletes, thanks to all of the judges, volunteers, and Kalorama staff, and thanks to John Filippini of South Baltimore CrossFit for setting up the whole damn thing!

Compete For Fun, Compete To Train... Don't Compete To Win?

Bin is back, folks! In this installment, my favorite Asian chef from Texas who's name is Bin dicusses the usefulness of competition in a different light. Thrusting himself into DC's Most Primal, a competition that he had little preparation for, gave him some personal insight into the benefits of competing. Read on for some goodness...

If anyone who read the last post and thought that it was a bit extreme, well, I'd certainly agree. While it's certainly helpful to be able to pull up that deep emotional state for an extra edge, how healthy can it be all the time? Chef's can't always be creative, writers can't always produce, and athletes can't always keep themselves that high-strung. We need rest, rejuvenation, and to simply get away from time to time. There's no reason you can't stay competitive within your sport and without, but sometimes it's important just to compete for fun, for training.....but not necessarily to win.

I've had the opportunity to train with a couple high level teams in the past, where pressure was a constant - to beat the other guy, to beat yourself, in competition and in training every day. The sport itself was individual, which meant that although there was teamwork and camaraderie in training, ultimately you had to beat everyone around you. One team happened to be one of, if not the best in the nation for several years running: The atmosphere was militaristic, high-stress, and emotionally grueling, but it produced like few others could. It has and continues to create top-tier MMA fighters and repeat world champions in grappling, but that wasn't without a price. For every individual that made it to the top there were others that had fallen out as a symptom of the environment. Many were injured, many dropped out from overtraining (which as a concept didn't exist; everyone just cursed their bad health and hobbled along until it "went away"), and sometimes people just lost it altogether. One national champion walked away for several months, becoming a competitive salsa dancer for a while, and another internationally-ranked grappler disappeared to live the expat life in Guam. Both of these guys, though, are extreme examples and have since returned to the sport as instructors.

In any case, though I was never faced with the same pressures as these top-tier guys, training with them and being in that same environment meant that I picked up that same viewpoint - competition and training had that same gravity, and if I couldn't give everything to every moment there simply wasn't a point to me trying at all. While on the one hand this meant that I was incredibly motivated whenever I did train or compete, over time I learned to dread everything, even as a concept. In my mind going to a competition meant weeks of dedicated training time, controlled meals, and a complete and utter mental focus at the cost of everything else in my life. There was no option to compete casually or on a lark; it was either all or nothing. Eventually it got to the point where I could only compete a few times a year, needing at least a month or two to decompress afterwards. Suffice to say, I started enjoying it less and less to the point where, unless I knew I could show significant improvement, I didn't want to go at all.

This attitude stayed with me until I took my first intentional "off-season." After my most recent Olympic Weightlifting meet I decided my next big competition would be the American Open in 2012, and knew that I had to seriously plan my training if I were serious about even qualifying, and my first decision was to take real time off from O-lifting before embarking on a 2 year training plan. I decided to pick up another sport during this time, and my choice ended up being, of all things, Crossfit. It certainly wasn't new to me; Crossfit had introduced me to Olympic Weightlifting, but doing the actual competitions was never something I had considered; Crossfit had always been a training supplement for other sports, and to me it was simply another tool in the toolbox, never a thing in and of itself.

Entering my first Crossfit competition was quite the experience. Suddenly the same emotions were welling up again - those same feelings of urgency, panic, desire, and fear from before, except this time, there was no pressure. There was no team resting on me, no name on my arm nor patch on my back, no posse ready to take down any judge that gave me a faulty ruling. I was just there for me and no one else. No particular outcome meant that I won or lost, that my training had succeeded or failed me - I was just there to see what I could do. Suddenly, competition was a test that I was posing to myself, rather than an expected outcome, where winning was a given unless I found out a way to screw it up.

I found this to be marvelously freeing. It was still a competition, of course, and though I wanted to place as high as I could I understood that my results were simply a reflection of the training I had done up to that point - nothing more. They had no bearing on me as a person, on whether or not I was good or bad, lazy or hard-working - these may sound obvious, but mindsets that are ground in for years are hard to get away from. If my performance lacked here or there, it was because my training was missing this or that. It was a learning experience, something that would improve my training in the future, something that would only benefit me regardless of how well or how poorly I performed. I could still channel those same corners of my head from before, but this time I was using those feelings as I pleased, rather than as a slave to them. Losing no longer meant that I had colossally screwed up something that was already in the bag.

Being out of my element and competing in a new sport brought on the understanding that our results are a reflection of the total sum of our training up to the moment of competition. Regardless of judging, the particulars of that day, or freak accidents, our performance will always only be a marker for where we are in our journey. If we're suddenly sick or injured, then the results will just show how prepared we are to deal with adverse conditions. If our training has made us the a champion, it'll reflect that, and if our training has made us stagnant, well, it'll show that too. In training we pick our cards and get them in order, but once the day comes it's too late to change what we've already got - we can only play the hand we've given ourselves, and really there's no point in worrying much on the mat, the field, or wherever. In a way, this might even mean that our competitions are really won or lost in the training we do; our performance in the actual events are only really meaningful for the purpose of officiation. In any case, that pressure that we place on ourselves on gameday must be kept in perspective with what we can actually control at that point, and not be allowed to run our lives. Perhaps it's helpful, even healthy sometimes, to compete with a solid dose of pressure to win in your veins, but it wasn't until I competed without it that I realized that it is simply a motivator, nothing more. Just another tool in my toolbox to get me where I want to go.

Bin focusing just before Event 2 at DC's Most Primal... in a V-neck

Win.

For my third installment regarding competition, I thought I'd compose this little diddy for the hyper-competitive types. As I've said before, everyone should be compete in something, even if only for fun (really, it should always be fun). This is encouraged and will be a good experience for anyone. In fact, a lack of competition in your life could contribute to any feelings of suck you're having about yourself. Coach Rut from Bootcamp Fitness makes an excellent point...

"I believe our nation's competitive environment has made us a world leader in virtually every category. My concern now is that we are losing our competitive edge. So how has this happened? Like any issue there is no clear singular cut cause. A combination of factors contribute to this soft environment. I know that in my lifetime, I noticed a change in how competition was regulated when the boys participated in youth sports. Lots of participation trophies, hugs after the games and a clear agenda to make everyone 'feel good' about the experience. Physical Education programs have been watered down or eliminated. No scores, no clear winner, no touching - no competition. No exposure to competition leads to complacency. As we all know, this isn't the real world. Every day the best competitor comes out on top. Competition is not only healthy, it is necessary."

Basically, you can't spend your life doggy paddling in the shallow end with a pair of water wings on. Challenge yourself once in a while. In this same vein, there are people out there who don't just want to compete; they need to win. Like Ghengis Khan. There is nothing wrong with being crazy competitive, but it takes a lot of work, time, and commitment if you truly want to exceed yourself. So let this impending rant be dedicated to those who just want to dominate everything and be fucking awesome.

This guy exceeds himself everday. With pornstars and cocaine.

Let's face the facts: America (and likely the world as a whole) has gotten soft. The internet, Twilight, advancements in technology, Ryan Seacrest, and all this other crap has turned us into a bunch of pansies. Don't get me wrong, I love the internet and my car and all that, but shit, these days they cancel school if there's a chance of snow. Whatever happened to spanking your children, making them do manual labor, and not giving them backpacks with wheels. We're breeding a generation destined to lose to those who actually understand the concept of work and effort.

Destined to lose his lunch money.

"As a society we don't test because we don't want to know. We put the ball on a tee to be certain of a hit. Participation earns a trophy. Podiums have five steps. There is no penalty for losing. This, when virtually every coach and player and thinker agree that losing teaches the lessons; while winning results from having learned (and applied) those lessons. Without tests or boundaries, how is one supposed to grow? When everyone is a winner, who is left to learn the lessons?" -Mark Twight

So how do we allay this onslaught of weakness? How do we put a stop to the wussification of America? We take off the swimmies and jump into the deep end. We work our asses off day in and day out, we sign up for a shitload of competitions, and we win.

Devil's In The Details

Today's topic will be similar to a previous post. One Saturday, a new guy named Ben came into my Olympic lifting class. Ben had a powerlifting background with some pretty goddamn impressive numbers i.e. 460lbs squat, 300lbs bench, and a 5something deadlift. Bear in mind, he was also 5'7" and weighed around 185lbs.

Now, provided he had ample joint mobility, with that kind of strength base, Ben could be a monster O-lifter. Nevertheless, like everyone new to a sport, he had some kinks we needed to iron out. Ben normally trained with a solid coach in Maryland, but his first pull irked me a bit.

Note how drastically the bar is traveling around his knees. Part of this is due to how low his hips are in his start position. From there, without driving his knees back, the bar has no option other than to move around the knees. An excellent quote I once heard: "We move around the barbell, the barbell does not move around us." As many of you will remember from this post, the job of the first pull is to put us into an optimal position for the second pull. This requires us to push our knees back off the floor, while the hips and chest rise together. After tweaking Ben's positions and drilling some of the movements, here's the result:

Looks much better to me. Right now, Ben is still relatively new to the sport so he has a little ways to go, but with his strength, mobility, and willingness to learn, well... I'm just glad he doesn't compete in my weight class.

Again, the purpose here is to highlight the very technical nature of the Olympic lifts. An early arm bend, a short hip extension, weight shifting forward, the bar swinging out in front, whipping the bar backwards - all of these minor mistakes can be the difference between a PR and a failed lift.

On another note, Sai set a PR snatch that very same day...

Look for both Sai and Ben at the Capital City Open on April 9th at Kalorama!

Compete (Again)

Many of you know my friend Bin. He's a good shit...

118kg clean & jerk

Anyways, Bin also embraces the benefits of competition. He's currently a top-notch Olympic weightlifter, he participated in DC's Most Primal (with less than three weeks of conditioning work), and he used to compete in Brazilian Jiu Jitsu and Thai boxing. He wrote the following piece in reference to his martial arts days and how competing is a part of his life:

I don't compete because I want to win. I don't compete for glory or for a feeling of satisfaction. I compete because I want to face failure, face the risk of failure, and test myself against the odds. I compete because it is my mind against the situation I am given. Competition is never a test of my abilities, my methods, or my preparation; it is purely a test of my will, and whether I win or lose, succeed or fail, is only a product of my mental state.

I find the atmosphere of competition intoxicating. It is my catharsis, my opportunity to channel everything in my life that oppresses me, everything that hurts, into something purposeful and beautiful. What would normally sit and fester, stew and rot inside me is instead purified and put to work. In those few moments before it begins, nothing feels more miraculous than the rage welling up inside me until it is almost too much, waiting for that clock to start. Once things begin the dam bursts.

To be sure, these patterns are tried and true for me. As a child searching for a way to deal with myself I found the masochism of training to be engrossing. At a time when it seemed like I was at the mercy of pain and suffering dealt to me by everything and everyone, finding a place, a means, to control the pain seemed like nothing less than salvation. In the beginning it was the training that I found rewarding - the daily exhaustion, the inability to think or consider the inanities of my life, and the struggle to merely survive gave me definition and necessity. Suddenly I had a daily goal, a task that I had to accomplish. Luckily I was young enough to buffer and push through what was almost certainly severe overtraining.

My first time in competition, however, was a revelation. All the hours and weeks in training paled compared to the gravity of that moment. Everything I had worked for, every scar, every lost hour of sleep, was distilled into these few minutes, these few moments really, in which I was given an opportunity to prove myself, not just to me, but to everyone around me, to these nameless faces that had come and gathered to witness. The crowd wasn't cheering for me necessarily, they were just cheering. But that didn't matter. In my mind and in my heart, everything that had been shoveled onto me up to that point was suddenly my ballast, the mountain I stood on to tower over the person facing me. He wanted to defeat me, but he didn't know what he was dealing with. He had no idea of what I had been through, what was driving me. He didn't know my resolve and how much stronger it was than he. How easily it could break him.

That part of my life is long passed. My days of one on one contests are over, but the spirit remains. It is rooted deep within me, waiting to be tapped, to be set free, and though my outlets for competition have changed, my motivations, what goes on inside, have not. I realize that these circumstances and attitudes are unusual, borderline unhealthy even, but to me, there's nothing else.