Annual Tisquantum Happiness
Nothing, and I mean NOTHING, says “You’re the coolest person ever in the universe and I wanted you to know that by buying you some bitchin’ Bodytribe stuff” than buying someone some bitchin’ Bodytribe stuff. From gift certificates for training or memberships to sales on DVDs and our book, it’s all going on here. Sit your fit-ass down for Black Friday and avoid the malls by shopping online… at our website!!
(“like” our Facebook page and see our Pic of the Day posted, well… daily, by Trainer Allyson)
I had some friends in town this weekend. I should clarify. A friend of mine decided to visit and he brought along his entire family. I’m now gonna have them all adopt me, and that means you all have to come along. Who’s up for Canada?
They’re the Mackie family from Saskatoon, Blaine, D’Arcy, Jordyn, Cayley and Luke, and all 5 of them competed in our powerlifting meet thingy last weekend (along with 60 other folks, including a bunch of Bodytribers!). I met the Patriarch, Blaine, about a decade ago on a quest for knowledge at the feet of my mentor, Mel Siff in Colorado. Blaine climbed the same proverbial mountain that weekend and together we slaughtered the goat, danced while possessed by spirits and had our physical culture vision quests, which seemed to confirm us as brothers. Since then, we’ve kept in touch, but a decade passes pretty quick when life, the master of prestidigitation, misdirects your concept of chronology with other adventures. So it was a thrill to meet the other puzzle pieces that create the man Blaine has become, an entire family who decided to challenge gravity, ranging from age 8 to um… a tad more than 8. One of them even competed with a swollen appendix, which wasn’t realized until a trip to the hospital as soon as they touched down Monday. Apparently that little bugger was just about ready to burst. Lets wish her happy healing!.
(here’s some of them now)
Now the excitement of having living, breathing Canadians hang out at the tribe, which has happened once before (Hi, Krista!), was yet one of the weekend’s highlights. Did anyone happen to walk in the Tribe Friday? It was… um… well, crap. Due to the new south wing being added (complete with moat and in-law’s quarters), the equipment was huddled in a pile that could only be found with radar under the pile of construction dust.
(somehow, Michelle managed to clean before we cleaned)
Well a massive powerlifting competition waits for no contractors, so the show had to go on… the next day! No problem, said the Bodytribe troops, who showed up in force to paint, clean and organize. In four hours, the 16-strong cleaning army transformed the gym, and the following morning our doors opened to host the California APA RAW Championships, the BIGGEST meet we’ve ever encountered.
(8-year old Anthony squatting about 150 or so)
Well, again, the Bodytribe army, some still spent from the intense cleaning spectacle the night before, stepped forward to host a virtually flawless event!
Folks… I can’t thank you enough.
Now every year or so (with occasional deviations), I want to reiterate a rant on gratitude. It goes a little like this…
If we had to give everything back, if the universal plan demanded us to hand over all possessions and start again bare and raw, I would have a very under-impressive load to turn in. What we would be left with, in our stripped down, essential state, is the coveted internal real estate we should perpetually be striving to cultivate. To give and receive from this place, there is no better exchange. All else is superfluous, although possibly entertaining. As a naked, unencumbered soul, give thanks, then, for how well you can fill the world with nothing but you. The caveat to this spiritual nudity is the quick understanding that if you haven’t taken care of yourself, if you don’t have the respect for yourself to care about the condition of your system, you greatly limit your choices, possibilities and gifts.
Naked in front of God, Buddha, Poseidon or Pan, give thanks for the better choices you’ve made and embrace wisdom for choices not yet made.
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!! Eat well, be well, do well!!
Here’s a T-Day workout for those of you sick bastards who will be joining some of us in the gym Thursday morning at 10:
It has been scientifically proven through numerous studies involving thousands of now-dead inmates that the absolute best thing to do when you’re about to embark on a long weekend involving a big decapitated bird and too much football is to max out on an overhead lift. The physiology behind it is too complicated to explain so just accept it as absolute truth.
Jerk Max Day. C’mon, you’re about to eat too much and then pass out in front of the TV while your nieces play Wii. Let’s celebrate this near future by blasting up as much weight as possible overhead.
Jerk recovery. Not done yet. Throw the pins in the cage pretty high, and load a heavy bar on it. Get under the bar in a lunge or squat, arms fully locked out and holding tight. Then stand up. If this isn’t a good 40-100 pounds heavier than your jerk max, then stop right now and just staple the fucking turkey to your face.
Alternating KB snatches: 8 each arm
Alternating KB cleans: 8 each arm
Alternating KB presses: 8 each arm
Alternating KB windmills (oh yeah, these suck by this point): 8 each side
Sled drag: 100 feet, heavy.
Got 3 rounds in ya? Give thanks.
By the way, this weekend we will still be gathering Saturday morning for a little Flow and Roll workshop. More of a play date than a workshop, we’re going to being the holidays with a little tension release, tumbling, stretching and rolling like if Gumby got biblical with a slinky. We may even learn a thing or two from this video:
As mentioned in the last post, we’re going to try to sneak some iron game history in on ya. Try this out:
(Yes, as pointed out by Bodytriber Zac, Serge Redding was Belgian, not Bulgarian. Bestuphobia is the fear of the letter “B,” and I’ve suffered from it since birth. Now leave me alone).
As a parting gift to you, here is an absolutely STUNNING video, in every way. If you don’t gasp when the music really kicks in, check for a pulse: