A slow turning…

Posted by Roy Cohen in 1 and tagged with Activism, Adaptation, Addiction, Americanness, Attitude, Benefit, Change, Essays, Expectations, Getting Hoodwinked, Growth, How we view things, Ideas, Living In The Modern World, Memes, Personal Responsibility, Perspective, Philosophy, Racism, Reflection, Ritual, Rules, Social change, Social Media, Technology, The food system, The future, Venting Middle-aged Fitness Trainer Who No Longer Needs A Drink May 29, 2013

Much is discussed and argued in the media and online communities these days, about the state and the future of the food system. Many take note that our national eating behaviors are worse than ever. Others suggest that there are better ways to feed the nation. Most just sit back, observe, and continue to accept the status quo. Pass the hydrogenated, sodium laden, 20-year shelf life butter substitute please.

There is no shortage of opinions on the subjects of fast food, GMOs, obesity, diabetes, local farming, corporate monocultures, high fructose corn syrup, and the varied eating styles and dieting fads which fall in and out of vogue these days. These conversations are ubiquitous, but are they productive…?

It’s obvious something is wrong. It’s obvious there are potential solutions. It’s obvious that there are as many people who care about improving the food system, as there are people willing to exploit it, or settle for it in its current state.

I’ll suggest that the following statements are true:

- We would all like to see a more mindful food system.

- We would all like to see more intelligent uses of the food system; one which promote healthier lives, and healthier lifestyles for everyone.

- The food system, in its current state, is not set up to promote health as a first priority. Rather, it exists to promote profit as a first priority – acknowledging though, that there are some considerations for health by some components within the food system.

- There is an increasing awareness among many segments of the population that the food system is faltering, but can be improved upon with corporate and individual diligence.

- To improve the food system, there will be required a spreading of awareness by way of activism, networking, volunteering, and use of the social media.

So where am I going with all of this…?

Changes of this magnitude don’t take place overnight. Being Americans though, we do look for those changes overnight. That’s not how social change works. I’ll suggest if we just take simple actions daily, and encourage our children to take simple actions daily, we can look to the future for change in hopes that our children’s children will reap the benefits of the sacrifice we make today.

I have begun to think about the changes in our food system, and our use of the food system, as being analogous to the American civil rights movement during the middle part of our last century. Change comes slowly. We often don’t see change as it manifests around us. That doesn’t mean that change isn’t taking place – just ask Darwin.

We can look back at a history of widespread hatred; lynchings, church burnings, and acts of racial prejudice in the early and mid-20^th century America. Today, we can look around us to see black head coaches, generals, CEOs, and even a president.

Are there still hatred, prejudice, and acts of violence against non-whites…? Of course there are. However, these instances are fewer, and further between, by far, than they were 40 years ago. Looking back, it took decades of consistent grassroots efforts, volunteering, activism, spreading social awareness, and sacrifice for those changes to slowly manifest. To this day, those changes must be guarded.

I look back at the progress though, that has been made with civil rights during the past 6 decades, and I do have some hope – if not for the food system of today, for the food system of tomorrow, through the work being done today.

A lynching today would not be acceptable. Perhaps people 60 years from now will feel the same way about giving a 1,500 calorie milk shake with 225 grams of sugar to a child after school. We still lynch, but it’s just a drive through kind of lynching. The #3 Value Meal has enough calories to support a human life for 2 days AND, it costs less than $4. We lynch ourselves, and we lynch our children – it’s just a slow lynching.

The noose that goes inside the neck, not around it…

I understand there is a large difference between racially based hate crimes, and the offering of junk food to a loved one. In that sense, perhaps we should refer to the ritual of sharing unhealthy foods as, love crimes. Think about that; love crimes.

Take note: My comparison of racism in America to the faltering food system is not about the severity or intentions of either. There is no comparison. Prejudice is an evil that far exceeds the dangers of Pop-Tarts, and aspartame. My comparison is about the time required to see tangible results in changing social trends of any kind.

Take action today. Teach your children today. Have hope for the next generation, if not for tomorrow. Be well. rc

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Please check back in 2 weeks to see what happens when I push the “stop” button on the blender in my head. Oh, and there is this from, The Men. Enjoy…

Music to my nerves…

Posted by Roy Cohen in 1 and tagged with Attitude, Benefit, Essays, Exercise, Expectations, Growth, Ideas, Living In The Modern World, Medicine, Memes, Music, Perspective, Philosophy, Ritual, Royisms, Rules, Strength, Therapy, Venting Middle-aged Fitness Trainer Who No Longer Needs A Drink May 16, 2013

I wrote this a couple of months back as a guest blog for Tamara at http://www.fitknitchick.com

I have been contemplating heavily in recent weeks about the idea of exercise being a physical form of music which offers parallel sensations and benefits.

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Music to my nerves…

I practice strength training for a multitude of reasons, not the least of which is that the connection it fosters between the thinking me, and the physical me can be as soothing and as formative in my life as music has been. In that sense, the act of strength training is music – physical music.

The body in motion, acting as directed by the mind, cooperatively though under stress, is a kinetic ensemble which can blend to create a satisfying result. That kind of ensemble movement can be to feeling, what an ensemble of sounds can be to hearing.

“Music has the power of wings.” Mike Scott, of The Waterboys

Being strong is a good problem to have…

The utility of strength training in the modern era is unequalled as a form of exercise. That is just my opinion. However, as a person who has taught exercise beyond traditional strength training, and as an athlete who over a lifetime has practiced and participated in many more genres of sport and fitness, I believe my opinion is worth your consideration.

It may be called strength training, but practiced properly its value extends far beyond strength.

Sticks and stones…

There is no type of medicine that can reverse the inevitable loss of bone density which occurs in people beyond middle age. There are some relatively benign medications which can slow down the loss of bones density, and a couple of more harsh medications that can cease it. None of these medications though, can be taken without inherent vulnerabilities disclosed elsewhere.

The regular practice of strength training can slow down the onset of bone density loss in all ages. So long as the strength training is practiced properly, it comes with almost no vulnerabilities. Tension on muscles equals tension on bones, and regular tension on bones is what helps slow down the loss of density.

Love me tendon…

Strength training makes muscles stronger. And trees are made out of wood. What goes largely unrecognized with strength training, and largely unappreciated, is that strength training can promote tendon strength as well. Tendons are where muscles taper, become increasingly dense, and fuse muscles to bone – just above and just below our joints.

Having stronger tendons offers our joints greater support. For those who experience difficulty with joints due to injuries, arthritis, or other damage, having stronger tendons on each side of the joint can offer needed support.

The practice of traditional strength training, using lighter to more moderate weights, performed slowly, and through a complete range of motion will help tendons become stronger. The support increased tendon strength offers those with trouble joints can be summed up in one word; confidence.

In transition…

Of all the values associated with strength training, the one that goes the most unappreciated, underrated, and the one which is rarely maximized by the general fitness population, is the transition phase during the lift.

When one transitions from the eccentric phase of a strength movement, to the concentric phase, and maintains absolute control of the weight during this transition, as he applies complete concentration to the muscles involved, true strength is developed. This is the kind of strength that generates confidence as much as it generates power – everyday life kind of strength.

Strength gained from mastering the transition phase of a resistance exercise is most applicable to one’s daily life – much more so than the bragging rights associated with how much weight was on the bar. This can be where mommy strength is created, where the might of a daddy is developed, and where the power of the employee can be cultivated. This is the kind of strength one will appreciate possessing – beyond the gym walls.

(an example of a seamless transition in a strength exercise)

Beyond pop: melody, lyrics, and structure…

A pop song is often underappreciated – just something to be heard as background noise or to pass the time. However, there is much more behind a pop song than most people will ever recognize or appreciate. There are benefits to a pop song far beyond superficial entertainment. When one extracts the multitude of values contained in a pop song; the lyrics, the intentions, and the energy, and applies those values to their own frame of mind, a person’s world can be changed for the better.

Traditional strength training is often considered to be superficial, like a pop song. Lifting weights equals bigger muscles, and more strength – big deal.

Like music though, strength training can offer much more when accepted on a more visceral level. When one extracts the multitude of values, and better understands the reaching benefits of strength training, a person’s world can be changed for the better.

Of course the benefits of strength training don’t end there. With regular strength training, one’s blood pressure can be reduced, attention spans can be increased, and mental acuity can be heightened. Strength training can promote better balance, enhance flexibility, and of course, improve our appearance.

Of course all of that should be music to everyone’s ears. Be well… rc

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Please check back in 2 weeks to see what happens when I push the “stop” button on the blender in my head. Oh, and there is this from The Cure, my favorite pop song — EVER! Enjoy…

Aggressivley Humble…

Posted by Roy Cohen in 1 and tagged with Adaptation, Americanness, Attitude, Change, Essays, Expectations, Guilt, Humility - mine not yours..., Ideas, Learning, Living In The Modern World, Maturing, maybe, Memes, Personal Responsibility, Perspective, Philosophy, Reflection, Royisms, Staying Grounded, The future, Venting Middle-aged Fitness Trainer Who No Longer Needs A Drink April 30, 2013

That was now, this is then…

My life is on a good path these days. My business is in a good place. I have earned my fitness back, and have lots of freedom in my schedule to play and be active. My expectations of humanity are lower than ever, while my desire to contribute is at an all time high.

There are times when I truly stop and ask myself,

“Is my life really this good…?”

Why yes, yes it is this good.

I guess that’s a good reason to flaunt it, yes…?

Let’s face it, I’ve been anything but humble lately.

Who’s that guy in the pink tank top with the ponytail, the bracelets, the ripped shoulders, and the George Hamilton tan…?

Meet the new Jhciacb, same as the old Jhciacb…?

Lesson plans…

Life is a series of lessons to be learned, or to be ignored. Though I have learned many lessons through my life, I have forgotten many, and have ignored a great many more. I can’t quantify the net-loss of lessons I have learned vs. those I have ignored, but I suspect that number is a substantial negative.

As the complexity of my life has increased, I feel that the disparity between lessons learned and lessons ignored has begun to slow. This isn’t to suggest I’m headed into the black with all kinds of wisdom, and maturity. As I contemplate new lessons learned, I’m finding that one of the larger lessons life has had in store for me has eluded me until now; the lesson of humility.

Changes in platitudes…

I told someone recently that the circumstances of my life have changed more in the past 6 months, than they have in the past 10 years. A quick inventory of these changes:

I have made writing an increased priority. Each morning I wake at 4:30 and write for up to 2 hours. The therapeutic value of spending this time writing has been more cleansing and transformative than exercise has ever been. Before my day begins, I’m able to shed many thoughts and feelings. This process has better enable me to receive each day, and has caused me to think more humbly.

Nine months ago I began working as a fitness trainer for Joel. Joel is 22 years old. He has TV shows and movies memorized by the dozens. Joel is an artist, a motivational speaker, and an athlete. Despite being 22, Joel needs to get dropped off and picked up at my studio by his mother. He will never drive, nor live an absolutely independent life. Joel is autistic. The experience of working with Joel, and the relationship fostered in the process has been very grounding. When I see weekly, all the Joel accomplishes, it’s a reminder that I should be as grateful for my potential, and my opportunities, as Joel is for his, and to humbly embrace them.

(Joel demonstrating exceptional form on the chest press)

My daughter is now a college graduate. The largest emotion I felt on the heels of this event is the feeling that the 22 years of parenting I have done thus far, haven’t really mattered. I think it’s the next 22 that will define my legacy as a father. She has accomplished more at 22, than I will in my next six lives. I am humbled by her achievements.

I have seen a couple of good friends pass away young and unexpectedly in recent months, while a couple of others have been diagnosed with life-threatening diseases. The passing of these friends sent shockwaves through complacency. It’s cliché I know, but these events have been a good reminder that each day is a gift. I strive each day to acknowledge and accept that gift – humbly.

In recent months I have changed the location, the name, and the direction of my business. The fitness industry has evolved to a point where I scarcely recognize it any longer. The sum of conflicting values, and conflicting data in the fitness industry, as well as the loud voices of the zealots espousing it all, have grown tiresome. I have become content to sit comfortably in my little niche and tune most of the noise from the chaotic fitness community out. Humbly, I contemplate what truly matters; the fitness of giving.

I have taken ownership of my physicality once again. I have entered several running events strung out through 2013, as well as a bodybuilding competition to take place this September. Just days after the attack at the Boston Marathon, I participated in a 2-day running event, The Ragnar Relay. I could not have been more humbled when my team leader presented our team with our shirts. The back of each shirt commemorated the tragedy in Boston just days earlier. Humbled.

As far as the bodybuilding goes, the past 5 months have been the best and longest a streak of quality workouts I have experienced since beginning this ridiculous endeavor in 1978. Each workout in recent months has exceeded the previous. Then, one month ago I fell while running, and suffered a fracture in my right hand. My streak of fruitful workouts ended immediately. It would be 2 weeks before I could do any upper body training, and that is still limited. However, and in the context of the paragraphs above, a fractured hand, and diminished workouts are insignificant. I humbly accept my injury.

Hard not to be humbled running with this on my back…

These circumstances, collectively, are where my recent contemplations on humility have begun to take shape, though it’s hard to say where they may actually take me.

I really don’t know if, or how all of this will change me. I do know this; I’m paying closer attention these days – to humility. Who knows, I may even cut my hair and start wearing shirts with sleeves again.

Psyche!

Pretty in pink, yes…?

Seriously, what’s the point of being humble if you can’t show it off…? Meet the new JHCIACB, same as the old JHCIACB. Be well. rc
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Please check back in two weeks to see what happens when I push the “stop” button on the blender in my head. Oh, and there’s this from The Chesterfield Kings. Enjoy…

It’s all you can do…

Posted by Roy Cohen in 1 and tagged with Americanness, Attitude, Comparrisons, Effort, Expectations, Growth, I fucking hate running, Maximum effort, Memes, Perspective, Philosophy, Respect, Venting Middle-aged Fitness Trainer Who No Longer Needs A Drink April 26, 2013

This week I had originally planned to publish the first in a series of three essays which I am writing on the subjects of humility and mindfulness, and how they (might) fit into my life. However, I am changing plans and holding off for one more week.

Earlier this week on my Facebook business page I wrote the entry below. I use this page as a platform to share shorter thought, ideas, and reflections.

Within a few days, this became the most viewed post I have ever written. I thought I would publish it here and give it a little more love. Please feel free to hare this, and if you haven’t already “liked” my Contemplative Fitness Facebook page, please take a minute to do so. Thanks!

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It’s all you can do…

An email conversation ensued yesterday between me, and a friend from the fitness blogging community. The conversation involved our respective running times. She made the mistake of suggesting that because she runs faster times than me, that she is more physically depleted at the end of her runs.

Before I pinned her to the mat and counted to 3 for offering such an ignorant thought, I reflected back to a conversation I had with a weightlifting mentor when I was in my early teens.

I asked him how much 400 pounds felt like when he was bench pressing it. I know, it was a stupid question, but I was young. He responded succinctly with this positive reinforcement:

“It feels heavy, and it feels like it’s the best I can do. No different than how 200 pounds feels to you. We are each carrying the heaviest possible load, and giving it our all.”

That one stuck. Hearing him frame his answer that way made me feel good about my own maximum efforts in pursuit of increased maximum efforts. It also made me realize that individual effort is a relative thing; that all-out effort feels the same for everyone – exhausting.

After the first leg of my recent Ragnar Relay Series run…

I served this reflection back to my blogging friend with the acknowledgment that she does run faster than me, but doesn’t give more of herself as she does – physically, or psychologically. I have no more left in the tank at the end of my hard runs or my heavy lifts, than she does at the end of hers.

I think it’s important that we all remember this when we view the physicality of others. Rush not to judge or compare, but to appreciate, and respect the hard work of others – regardless of their level. I am a runner… rc

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Please check back in one week to see what happens when I hit the “stop” button on the blender in my head.

Oh, and there is this from the original Fleetwood Mac. Enjoy…

Defective Personality…

Posted by Roy Cohen in 1 and tagged with Adaptation, Addiction, Attitude, Benefit, Discipline, Effort, Essays, Exercise, Expectations, Faith, Growth, Guilt, Ideas, Living In The Modern World, Memes, Muscle, Personal Responsibility, Personality Defects, Perspective, Philosophy, Reflection, Ritual, Routines and Framework, Rules, Solitary Exercise, Strength, The Methodone Of My Existance, Venting Middle-aged Fitness Trainer Who No Longer Needs A Drink April 12, 2013

“My greatness is the sum of all my personality defects. Well, most of them anyway.” Me

Personality defect #1: Growing Up Cohen…

This I know: My mother and father loved me very much. My childhood was safe, and my opportunities were numerous. I was never threatened, abused, or otherwise compromised as a child. I was taught right from wrong, good from bad, truth from dishonesty, and to say please and thank you to everything that moved. And for all of this I was loved, housed, fed well, and given 50 cents per week.

My childhood might not quite have been the Ozzie and Harriet show, but it more closely resembled the TV life of the 1950s than it did the Ozzie and Sharon show. Still, from an early age I developed a strong desire to withdraw from my family, from my social peers, and spend a great deal of time in self-imposed isolation.

It wasn’t enough to be alone though, I had to be moving while I was alone. I would ride my bike, skateboard, swim, dive in the pool, shoot baskets, or just walk for hours at a time, and could not be any happier for my introverted exertions. At an early age, solitary exercise was my house of worship, and remains my sanctuary to this day.

Still the best way I know to be alone…

The two go well together for me; solitary and exercise. Give me one without the other, and they will each be appreciated. Give me both, and they become trans-formative medicine.

Personality defect #2: Mass Appeal…

I can’t remember the first time I really took notice of a person’s musculature. Maybe I was 12 or so. It might have been a football player on TV, a bodybuilder, a guy swinging a sledge hammer on a road crew, I’m not sure. I do know this; that from a very early age, the sight of lean, well formed, larger than normal muscles on a person compelled me – male or female.

Not just on people either. As a child I would stare for hours at pictures of Seattle Slew and other race horses of the era. The lean musculature of racehorses had a gravity my eyes could not resist. My mom couldn’t get me out of the primate exhibit at the zoo either – the width of a gorilla’s back, and the squareness of his chest was something I wanted too. There has always been something about the ornamental quality of large muscles in motion which has captivated me.

Triceps are a little weak, but LOVE his chest….

At some point, maybe near middle school, I made this connection; that I possessed the ability to go from just looking at and admiring muscle, to becoming the muscle. On this realization, the course of my life began to take shape. Personality defects #1 and #2 were about merge into the pathway expressway on which I would haul through the rest of my life.

Personality defect #3: Hardworking In All The Wrong Places…

As my desire to create muscle on myself increased, I required more and more time in isolation to work on the muscle project. My requirement for solitary exercise would now consume me.

By the time high school came along, it had gotten in the way of my solitary exercise. I was so involved, as both the sculptor, and the sculpture, that I released myself from high school on my own recognizance.

Drop out. Chalk up. Lift.

Too cool for school…

Solitary exercise, in the form of weightlifting, had become my single biggest priority. Oh, and there were also the sprint workouts which I began to do 2-3 times per week, which I enjoyed much for the challenge, and the conditioning, but also for the solitude.

As my adult life would further unfold, solitary exercise would expand to include running, cycling, surfing, kayaking, and more. The older I got, the more important my medicinal movement became. It also became my livelihood.

Personality defect #4: The World Begins With Me…

It is this defect, #4, that enabled defects #1 and #2 to become defect #3. I put myself first in most situations – for most of my life. I think science may have it wrong. From my vantage point, the universe is didn’t actually begin until the day I was born – and that’s how I have lived for most of my life.

I like to think that I’m no longer as selfish as I was for the first 5 decades of my life. I now recognize that there are 7 billion persons on Earth not named Roy Cohen. With this realization, I think it’s fair to say that I have become a pretty giving person of my time, of my money, of my heart, and of myself.

My solitary exercise is still the largest part of my life, though I now include others more frequently as I partake in the joy of wearing myself down – wanting to share the experience. In running, hiking, lifting, and cycling with others, I have learned to be more malleable in my exercise ways, and am finding new life from my movements, and fostered new friendships that have enriched my life.

Personality defect #5: Reconciling Utility vs. Fulfillment…

As I have written before, it’s my belief that the car with the most, and the hardest miles on it will likely go to the junkyard first. Of course maintenance, quality of fuel, and quality of miles are factors, but using the body to excess is not necessarily a recipe for a ripe old age. Still, I push hard, and I push daily.

I won’t know until much later in life whether all my personality defects, and my lust for movement have served me well, or will have beaten me down. It will probably be a little of each, but that’s how life.

Going equine one more time. Seattle Slew-perman…

Of course these are not all my personality defects, only the ones which serve this essay. I’m not a bright man, but I’m guessing I have a personality defect or two that I’m not willing to advertise. So for those who truly know me, PLEASE feel free this week to drop them into the comments section and help fuel the conversation. Be well. rc

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Please check back in 2 weeks to see what happens when I push the “stop” button on the blender in my head.
Oh, and there is this from the Grande Roses, enjoy…

It’s all about Roy…

Posted by Roy Cohen in 1 and tagged with Adaptation, Attitude, Benefit, Bodybuilding, Breakfast, Change, Daily Action, Dinner, Discipline, Effort, Exercise, Expectations, Fuck Running, Growth, Ideas, Living In The Modern World, Lunch, Paul Weller Is Genius, Personal Responsibility, Perspective, Philosophy, Pre-contest dieting, Reflection, Ritual, Routines and Framework, Royisms, Snacks, Strength, The future, Venting Middle-aged Fitness Trainer Who No Longer Needs A Drink March 31, 2013

A week in the life…

I’ve been corresponding with several friends, and clients recently who have been curious about my own dietary changes since January. Since more than a few people have asked about this, I thought I would be a nice diversion this week, rather than writing my usual essay, to share my contest preparation here.

I currently estimate my body fat to be about 11%. My weight this morning was 162 lbs. For my bodybuilding competition in September, I should be 152 pounds, at (roughly) 7% body fat.

These pictures were taken about 2 weeks ago. Clearly, I still have a long way to go, but the trail is straight, and quite easy to navigate.

My current eating schedule is not glamorous. It varies little from day to day, as my body in contest preparation, responds extremely well to consistency in eating. This means eating basically the exact same things at the exact same times each day. This is correct for the goal, and for the moment, though I have no intentions of eating this way in the long-term.

The meals…

Breakfast: 6 egg whites, red cabbage, asparagus, some onion, 1 roma tomato, some spices

Four pounds of breakfast joy. In this case, I uses EggBeaters in stead of egg whites. On sale...

Four pounds of breakfast joy. In this case, I used EggBeaters in stead of egg whites. On sale…

Mid-Morning: 1 scoop of protein powder in water. 1 grapefruit

My mid-morning and mid-afternoon snacks…

Lunch: 1.5 medium boneless/skinless chicken thighs, red cabbage, broccoli, 1 roma tomato, some onion, some spices

Lunch is usually some combination of vegetables, and chicken…

I would be lost without my two eating partners; Greek seasoning and California style garlic salt. I put them on everything, in equal portion…

Mid-Afternoon: 1 scoop of protein powder in water. 1 grapefruit

Dinner: 1.5 medium boneless/skinless chicken thighs or breasts, on top of a monster green salad. Full-on loaded with veggies. Sometimes this salad is homemade, often times it comes from one of the local restaurants I frequent. Regardless, it’s usually filled with an ass-load of spring-mix, a few kalamata olives, sometimes spinach, cucumbers, tomato – just depends.

Fallbrook Cafe, I LOVE YOU!

During the night: 1/2 cup oatmeal, l/2 tsp. ground flax, 1 scoop of protein powder. I wake up naturally at 11:30 or so, and I keep this pre-made by my bed. I eat it and go right back to sleep.

Living in a vegetative state…

With the vegetables, I emphasize quantity and quality. For a given meal, I may also include spinach, Brussels sprouts, and occasionally kale. All these veggies are useful carbohydrates, and hard to digest. My digestive organs earn their keep.

My morning scramble usually weighs over 4 pounds, and has been as heavy as 6 – that’s how many vegetables it contains. The only non-vegetable carbohydrates I currently eat are the oats and flax seed I eat in the middle of the night.

I’m not counting calories at all right now, but guessing I’m in the 1800-1900 per day range. As September gets closer, I will taper down to about 1,500, and perhaps 1,200 for the last few weeks before the show. This will all be instinctive, based on how I feel on a given day/week. If my body tells me I need more food, I add in more. Conversely, if my body tells me I’m eating too much, I will taper in accordance with my intuition. I only count grams of protein which, relative to my goal, is about 150-170 grams per day.

Hunger games…

Eating like this, I’m always a little bit hungry, but rarely am profoundly hungry. It’s tolerable, and a sign that my objective, to live in a sustainable calorie deficit, is working.

The upside of the hunger is that every meal I eat tastes like it’s the best thing I have ever eaten. My grapefruit tastes like candy. Cabbage and eggs taste amazing. My dinner salad is always the best salad I have ever eaten in my life. This, in my opinion, is a good way to be.

Despite the calorie deficit, and the elimination of most non-vegetable carbohydrates, I have never felt better in my life. My cognitive abilities seem improved, and my sleep doesn’t totally suck.

Movement games…

My body is functioning at its highest level in years. My workouts are epic, and include poundages, in some cases, I have never used before. My runs are strong, but I still think running is fucking stupid.

I strength train 5-6 days per week, 45-50 minutes per session when I’m alone, and 90 minutes or so when I train with my partner.

I’m not a paleo guy, but I do like to get outside from time to time…

During the week a run 2.1 miles most days followed by some 70-80 yard sprints. On the weekends I may go on longer runs at the beach or on trail. Aside from my September bodybuilding competition, I also have have several competitive runs during the next 6 months, including two half-marathons, and a relay across Southern California. I fucking hate running.

That’s it. A week in the life — for now. This time next year it could be all about Tai Chi, racquetball, or kayaking. Sitting still is simulating death.

So I let you in a little deeper this week, please reciprocate. Use the comments field and let me know what you’re up to these days, and WHY… Be well. rc

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Please check back in two weeks to see what happens when I hit the “stop” button on the bender in my head. Oh, and there is this from Paul Weller — simply elegant. Enjoy…

There’s no such thing as bad, only different levels of good…

Posted by Roy Cohen in 1 and tagged with Adaptation, Aesthetics, Attitude, Benefit, Discipline, Essays, Exercise, Expectations, Fitness Fodder, Functional Fitness, Getting Hoodwinked, Growth, Ideas, Memes, Personal Responsibility, Perspective, Philosophy, Ritual, Routines and Framework, Royisms, Rules, Strength, The future, Utility, Venting Middle-aged Fitness Trainer Who No Longer Needs A Drink March 19, 2013

When speaking to friends on the subject of pizza, I am always quick to say,

“Pizza is like sex and music; there is no such thing as bad, only different levels of good”.

Exercise can be part of that equation as well…

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The tail of two friends…

Two friends from the Midwest, both of them very fitness minded, each sent me two separate articles this week, each unaware of the other.

One friend, VDB, sent me this one titled, The Five Most Overrated Exercises You Can’t Stop Doing.

The other friend, TJ, sent me this one titled, Worthless Exercises You Probably Do.

As far as the overratedness or worthlessness of exercises go, these are relative statements, and always cause me to cringe when I read such blind assertions.

I argue for thinking…

Through several decades of reading on the subject of exercise, I have seen many articles like these. I have never seen such articles make strong arguments against the exercises they list. They usually go into very little detail to support their argument, and never do they consider the peripheral utility of such exercises, or consider the values these exercises may offer on a more visceral level.

It’s sort of like saying, “I hate that candidate.” Fair enough. Now tell me why, and support your argument…

I can make an argument, and often do, that there are no worthless exercises if they are done properly — that there is utility, on some level, in all mindful movement performed by a capable body.

Some exercises have more utility than others for a particular outcome, say, functional fitness vs. aesthetic fitness. Even those terms though, functional fitness, and aesthetic fitness aren’t necessarily exclusive from one-another.

Exercises done in the name of functional fitness may have more of an aesthetic application, but that doesn’t mean there is not a functional value. Conversely, many exercises I suggest for functional strength can provide an aesthetic benefit as well.

There’s a fine line between an exercise being worthless, and it simply lacking efficiency relative to one’s objective.

That is where the real answers rest in exercise anyway; when we choose which exercises to include in our regimen based upon what we are trying to accomplish.

The usual suspects…

The case I use most often is the leg extension.

I will state my opinion, clearly, that leg extensions, first and foremost, offer an aesthetic application. Among the many benefits leg extensions offer is that they help create lines of separation between the quadriceps. To a bodybuilder, this is useful. To a golfer, not so much.

Often maligned by functional fitness proponents, I’ve heard leg extensions referred to as knee wreckers, useless, and dangerous. This is nonsense. Though leg extensions are an isolation exercise, they are not knee wreckers, and done properly, they are far from dangerous. They can, in fact, be knee supporters – even for golfers.

Though leg extensions do isolate the quadriceps muscles, they also isolate the quadriceps tendons which fuse those muscles to the knee joints. Doing leg extensions properly, and with an appropriate weight, will strengthen those tendons, offering better support for the knee joints of anyone, be they an athlete, weekend warrior, or assisted living resident. Leg extensions, done properly, make the knees stronger.

Both articles advocated against the bench press as a functional fitness exercise. One stating,

“The bench press is overrated mainly because too many beginners stick to this chest exercise thinking that it’s the only thing they need”.

Well that’s not the fault of the bench press. That’s the fault of the uniformed user over-depending on the bench press.

The other article claimed,

“Some fitness experts have deemed bench press unsafe.”

Again, this is a relative statement. I will argue that the bench press, done with proper form and an appropriate weight, is useful in developing upper body strength for all levels of fitness including my oldest client, 88, who does them regularly. There is also a peripheral core element which comes with doing bench presses properly.

Irony out the wrinkles…

I find it interesting that of the two articles linked above, one advocated for the plank as a good alternative to the crunch, and the other vice-versa.

My take on either of these exercises does not change; there is value in either one, but the value is only disclosed by the way the exercise is performed, relative to what the goal of the user might be. I published my own thoughts on this here last month.

Look, I’m not even an expert on Roy Cohen, so I won’t claim to be an expert on exercise. I have been at this a while though. I have seen many trends in exercise which have come and which have gone. One trend though, that remains and probably always will, is the trend of “experts” trying to provide your common sense to you, because they don’t want you to cultivate it on your own – there’s just not as much profit in that… Be well. rc

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Please check back in two weeks to see what happens when I push the “stop” button on the blender in my head. Oh, and if you have 30 minutes of time, please check out Oklahoma’s JD McPherson. Enjoy…

Caught between Emerson, And George…

Posted by Roy Cohen in 1 and tagged with Adaptation, Aesthetics, Americanness, Attitude, Benefit, Change, Contemplation, Disease, Essays, Exercise, Expectations, Faith, Functional Fitness, Growth, Guilt, Humility, Ideas, Living In The Modern World, Memes, Parkinson's Disease, Personal Responsibility, Perspective, Reflection, Routines and Framework, Strength, The future, Utility, Venting Middle-aged Fitness Trainer Who No Longer Needs A Drink March 16, 2013

The crossroads in my head…

On a personal level, I am compelled by the fulfillment of challenging exercise. The drug of intensity in movement clears my head, offers me confidence, and provides moments to me during which the stress of daily living vanishes, if only for a while.

Whether my requirement for challenging exercise is an addiction, a compulsion, or a mere personality defect, I may never be sure. What I have come to accept is that, for now, exercise for the sake of fulfillment is a necessary component of the clock that is me.

Earning my keep…

On a professional level, I am more cautious about the ideal of intensity in exercise. This caution though, is relative to the moment, and to the client. Some moments in my studio are all about fulfillment in exercise. I am paid well by some clients to establish the limits of their physicality, and incrementally raise those limits, rendering them more capable at given tasks, aesthetically improved, or both.

With other clients it’s about utility. They entrust me to help increase their physicality by offering functional exercise into their lives. This may be due to age, disease, or simply because they have lived a deconditioned lifestyle previously. Regardless, for these clients mindfulness comes first, and intensity isn’t even a consideration.

On George…

George stepped into my studio for the first time seven years ago. He was 67 years old, and a few years into retirement. He wanted to begin a fitness regimen to augment his twice per week golf schedule.

George also wanted to lose a few pounds around his waist, and improve his overall “shape”. If functional strength training might help his golf game, peripheral weight loss would be a cherry on top.

George was focused with his workouts, and made progress quickly. His balance improved. His flexibility improved. His endurance improved. His strength improved – to a point where he could leg press several hundred pounds, in proper form, and through a complete range of motion, and do so safely. Even his golf even improved.

George is 73 now. Four years ago he was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease. An engineer by trade, George accepted that affliction with no resistance. He approached it with a resolve to wake up each day and address Parkinson’s in the best way he could – stoically, and with a pragmatic faith in Western medicine.

In the four years since his diagnosis, George’s physicality has suffered. This is partially due to the disease itself, and partially due to the medications he uses to offset Parkinson’s. However, his attitude and acceptance of the cards life has dealt him have been exceptional. We should all be so graceful under the same circumstances.

Yesterday as he entered my studio I asked him how his golf outing went the day prior. This was his response:

“It was great!”

He continued,

“I didn’t play too well, but the turkey sandwich was excellent, and my friends and I laughed a lot.”

I was as humbled by his attitude, as I was by the sincere smile on his face as he spoke.

George no longer leg presses several hundred pounds. Most of George’s workouts take place with a broom stick for resistance, and some 3 pound weights in his weathered hands. He accomplishes less than half the sets and repetitions in a given workout than he did prior to the onset of Parkinson’s.

He rests more during the session, struggles to drink his water without spilling some, and he and I have become more social. His efforts though, have been just as focused as ever.

There is no way to quantify how George’s functional strength workouts have helped offset his fight with Parkinson’s, or whether they have made a difference at all.

At a time when I struggle walking the line between the utility of functional exercise, and the fulfillment of more intense exercise, George’s presence in my life is a grounding factor.

George pays me well for his two hours in my studio each week. As time goes on, and I ruminate over all I am learning from George – about how to address aging, disease, and the perspective he applies to both, I wonder more and more, who should be paying who.

Caught between utility and fulfillment…

Of my many daily rationalizations, chief among them is that my personally fulfilling, intensity-driven workouts offer my life a great deal of utility.

There may be some utility in me in racing up a 1,200 foot hill as fast as I can. Running back down that same hill fast, I can assure you, is not in the best interest of my long-term physicality. Nor do I believe that my quest for a bodybuilding title in September is in my body’s best long-term interest.

Probably not what I will be doing at 74 years old…

These ideals which underlie my exercise though, are who I am today.

Who I will be tomorrow…

I may never have the privilege of being 74 years old. If I am so fortunate to get there, I have no illusion that I will look or function then as I do today. I also require myself to accept that what I do today – how I exercise, and how often, may actually have a negative impact on the physicality of me at 74. I don’t know.

There is a fine line between pursuing what we want, and what makes sense. When I have difficulty distinguishing that line, or when I see it clearly but can’t decide which side I should stand on, I draw from the only scripture which has mattered to me in my adult life:

“Speak today in hard words what you believe, and speak tomorrow in hard words what you believe though it may contradict what you say today.” Ralph Waldo Emerson

“Speak today in hard words what you believe, and speak tomorrow in hard words what you believe though it may contradict what you say today.”

More and more these days, I find myself caught between Emerson, and George — between the lessons of two great men who have both inspired me. Be well. rc…

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Please check back in two weeks to see what happens when I push the “stop” button on the blender inside my head. Oh, and there is this from the best rock and roll band you have never heard of, The Hellacopters. Enjoy…

Toxicity, people, and how I cope: The nutshell version…

Posted by Roy Cohen in 1 and tagged with Absolutely NOTHING To DO With Fitness, Adaptation, Americanness, Attitude, Benefit, Change, Effort, Essays, Expectations, Facebook, Faith, Friends, Friendship, Getting Hoodwinked, Growth, Guilt, Ideas, Living In The Modern World, Memes, Misc., Personal Responsibility, Perspective, Philosophy, Reflection, Ritual, Routines and Framework, Self-Loathing, Social Media, Toxicity, Unfriending, Venting Middle-aged Fitness Trainer Who No Longer Needs A Drink March 7, 2013

Every morning I wake up and allow myself to be punched right in my psyche, hit by the negativity of some people in my online community. Not only do I allow this, I set myself up for it. With each fresh morning I open my 17” LCD window to the world, and allow myself be soiled by people I call friend.

Soon after, I begin asking myself, why do I do this…? Why do I grant access into my consciousness, to toxic personalities pushing such heavy loads…? It can sadden me, depress me, influence the direction of my day, and can change my perspective of life – all by 6:00 a.m. Still, I do it day after day.

Gasses spew, but I am prepared…

I know who I am. I know who I wish to be. I try to be who I really am as often as I can, though many times throughout the day I ignore my compass and allow myself to drift. I find myself led off course by my own fears, and by the influence I allow others to have over those fears. I work hard though, to stay centered and on track, and I guess I do a fair job of it.

When I attempt to answer my own question, about why I allow the negativity of others into my life, and why I keep those people there, the answers are complicated. I guess I see it this way: That the universe has brought those people into my life to begin with, and there is no denying they exist within my life, so they must be there for a reason(s).

They become my external friend first, but in time can become my internal enemy – but that’s on me, not on them. I do little to dissuade their toxicity and negative energy. I simply ignore it, and store it. I do very little online arguing since I have seen nothing good ever come of this. I have my opinions, others have theirs.

I ask myself: Are these people in my life to test me, to teach me, to hurt me, or to offend me…? Not sure. Mostly I think they are in my life to ground me – to remind me of who I am, who I am not, and who I might turn out to be, relative of course, to who I hope to turn out to be.

I think people who exhibit single-mindedness, who spew hatred, who can argue without ever listening, and who use social media as their outlet are speaking from a place of fragility and fear so deep that they themselves may not even know it’s there. In that sense I feel for them – that they are so damaged they may not even know they are damaged, or why. At least I know where my damage comes from.

I try hard not to judge people for these behaviors, as I hope I am not judged by others for the simple act of being myself.

At the end of the day I believe in an absolute universal oneness. I genuinely believe that we are all interconnected — that everyone else is me, and I am them. Maybe not in this life, but in the life next door, in the life down the road, or in the life I will live three lives from now.

I take it all with a grain. I meditate to keep myself centered. I exercise to keep my head clear. I write to honor my creative gift. I also listen without judgment because the voice coming my way might be my own voice someday, or may have already been. Wishing you peace this day… rc

Comments are closed this week…

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Please check back in two weeks to see what happens when I push the “stop” button on the blender in my head.
Oh, and there is this by Sweden’s Hellsingland Underground. Enjoy…

Lift like a girl…

Posted by Roy Cohen in 1 and tagged with Adaptation, Attitude, Benefit, Change, Discipline, Effort, Essays, Exercise, Expectations, Friendship, Growth, Ideas, Lift like a girl, Living In The Modern World, Perspective, Philosophy, Ritual, Routines and Framework, The future, Training Partners, Venting Middle-aged Fitness Trainer Who No Longer Needs A Drink, Wing-man February 28, 2013

My wing-men…

I was once a puffy armed young man, spending my Friday nights in the gym, suppressing protein drink burps, clapping my hands as chalk settled on my shirt, and chest thumping with my buddies in between sets of heavy bench presses. Hey, it was Friday night. What did we need girls for…?

My training partners back then were also puffy armed guys, just like me. It was always cool to be seen and heard working out with the other strongest guys in the gym. They were my brothers in iron; they were my wing-men. No girls allowed.

Of course that was in an era when few girls dared to enter the gym anyway. If one did enter, it was rare if she would find her way to the business end of the gym; where the free weights clanked. This was the era when the cardio bunny was born.

Lift like a girl…

My wing-man is now a girl. She’s hot, but she’s no cardio bunny. Beyond hot though, she is stronger, more focused, and more disciplined than any male workout partner I have ever had. Strong, focused, and disciplined; those are valuable qualities in a training partner. She’s also dependable.

For much of the past two decades, I have preferred training alone, or with women. Each has their value. The values of having female training partners are numerous. Some of my partners have been high level competitive bodybuilders, while other have just been women who prefer to take the weight room very seriously.

Why I lift like a girl:

No ego. The women I have trained with could care less how heavy a weight is, relative to how they are managing it. They focus more on how heavy a weight can feel. Though they rarely lift as heavy as I do, they are always in the conversation, and I’m okay with that. The women I’ve trained with do so with a greater purity in their form – something I rarely see from men. Serious female athletes tend to extract more from a singular repetition. Over time, this adds up.
Concentration. Serious women apply serious concentration to their workouts. When we lift together; there is usually no out-there out there during the sessions. There is only the workout, and the communication between us, which is often silent.
Performing at my best. If I’m blessed enough to workout with the hottest, most serious athletes in town, and I usually do, you can believe that I will live my entire life through every single repetition while their eyes are on me. This is my time to shine, and their time to admire. What’s more motivating than that…?
I want what she has. Whether I’m looking at my partner’s exercise form, the meat on her back during a lift, or staring at the veins across her abs in-between sets, I want what she has. I just want it on a more male scale.

No question, the best workouts I have ever had have been with women. The muscular gains I have made during training phases with female partners have always been exceptional. Take ego out of the picture, add in some feminine intensity, and muscle just grows.

Yes, I lift like a girl and I’m proud of it…

Captured by Carrie…

My current partner is Carrie. Carrie chooses not to compete in bodybuilding. If she did, she could compete at a national level today. Though her physique is of that cass, her competitive interests are with CrossFit and Hapkido. Carrie has more balls than any male training partner I have ever had, yet has taught me the value of ovarian fortitude. She is the most committed, most focused, and most intense athlete I have ever worked with. Our sessions are intense, but they are always fun.

Carrie: Striations like Ruffles Potato Chips on those delts…

What makes my relationship with Carrie so unique is that she is also my friend – in a way that a guy can be a friend. That means when I tell her to “arch your back and blow” during a set of lat pulldowns, she knows why I smirk as I say it.

Carrie and I train together, run together, and dine together frequently. I’m proud of how professional and serious we keep the workouts, but the inferences and innuendos we share make it fun, and can be motivating for each of us.

There are times when I’m watching her do low back extensions that I’m blown away be the Christmas tree on her low-back. Other times I just think about licking the sweat off of it – and I have no problem telling her that. That’s just how we roll.

Heterosensual…

Don’t read too much into this, Carrie is happily married. Most of my female training partners have been married. That’s okay, I often spend as much time with them as their husbands do, and I often get to see as much skin.

I’m not saying that training with a woman is for everyone, least of all for a puffy armed young man who would rather hang out with his ‘Bros’ on a Friday night. I am saying that training with a female adds a level of intensity, intelligence, and a balance to my workouts, as well as to my perspective, that I have yet to find with one of my ‘Bros’. Hey, once you go chick, you’ll always get thick. Read into that what you will… rc

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Please check back in two weeks to see what happens when I hit the “stop” button on the blender inside my head.

Oh, and there’s this from the Vulgar Boatmen. Enjoy…

The inner light…

Posted by Roy Cohen in 1 and tagged with Adaptation, Almost nothing to do with fitness, Americanness, Attitude, Awareness, Awareness And Discipline, Benefit, Change, Crazy zealot fitness assholes, Discipline, Effort, Essays, Exercise, Expectations, Getting Hoodwinked, Growth, Guilt, Ideas, Living In The Modern World, Living transparently, Memes, Obesity, Personal Responsibility, Perspective, Philosophy, Prejudice, Reflection, Ritual, Routines and Framework, Royisms, Self-Loathing, Strength, The future, Tips, Venting Middle-aged Fitness Trainer Who No Longer Needs A Drink, Vulnerability February 22, 2013

The inner light…

It took me a long time to have this picture taken. That is, it took a long time during the photo shoot. You see, I had to stop and cry a lot. Taking my shirt of, and revealing the body shown below made me feel worthless – based on where that body had previously been.

Taken on 9/11/12. Ironic, as it looks as though I committed and act of terrorism — AGAINST MYSELF!

I had to come face to face with it though – with what I had allowed to happen to my body.

This photo was taken on 9/11/2012. Ironic, as it appears I was in the process of committing an act of terrorism – against myself.

In truth, I just let my guard down for a while. “For a while” could easily have turned into forever, but I didn’t let that happen.

No, I’m not going to insert of photo later on in this post of how I look today. Trust me, I look fucking great. That’s not my point.

I’m sharing this for two reasons:

1) To let those who struggle with issues of personal fitness, eating, and body image know that we are all human, and we can all become vulnerable to life’s challenges – even experienced fitness trainers.

As a fitness trainer, former marathon runner, lifter, cyclist, bodybuilder, and life-time practitioner of daily action, I became vulnerable to all things which anyone else might find blocking their path; depression, relationship issues, self-loathing, junk-food-medication, alcohol, and more.

Once I when I realized I was down though, I chose to get back up, and here I stand.

2) To remind those prejudiced, zealot fitness assholes who think they know everything about life, about exercise and eating, about how to change the body, the mind, and the attitude, but who actually prize physical appearance above all other virtues, that at the time this picture was taken, I was still very active.

Shell shocked, but still functioning…

At the time the picture above was taken, I was running with my running pack each week, and fairing quite well. I was lifting daily, and ahead of the game with my poundages. I was still a good business man. I could still crack a nice joke. I could still turn a phrase like ringing a bell. I was still a good father, a good friend, and a good citizen in my community. And what I looked like didn’t have a fucking thing to do with who I was on the inside.

Yes, I want to look good – but looking good is only a shell. Though my shell may ebb and flow through the rocky course of my life, so long as I live my intentions, who I am on the inside should never waiver.

I no longer look like the picture above. If I did though, the only thing that would be changed about me, would be how I’m perceived by (some) people around me.

But that wouldn’t really be about me, would it…? It would be about them, and their prejudiced tendencies with regard to physical appearance and beauty, which can be separate from functional fitness.

In truth, I do prefer the way I look today over the way I looked in that picture. And trees are made out of wood. I went to a party several weeks ago wearing a pair of jeans I could have worn in high school. There was a confidence in doing that which escapes description.

The confidence that comes with looking better and possessing a higher level of personal fitness does, I believe, enable me to contribute better to all facets of my existence. Perhaps that is the single greatest rationalization of my life. I don’t know…

Looking good, feeling good…

This I do know: There is a difference between aesthetic fitness, and functional fitness. Aesthetic fitness is simply the act of looking good – looking good is optional. I believe all of us though, have a responsibility to be functionally fit – the progression of our society depends on it.

I won’t attempt to deny the superficiality that is behind my pursuit of being aesthetically fit. I would rather go through life with aesthetic fitness than without it. I try very hard though, not to judge any person for any reasons, least of all for what they look like or how they function.

In my day-to-day psyche I work very hard to remember that in the end, none of us will be judged by the shape our abs or whether we do sinister justice to that little black dress.

In the end, we will only be judged by the deeds of our minds, of our hearts, by our actions toward others, and that whatever we do, be done out of love.

Taking me back…

As far as getting back to my current level of conditioning an appearance goes, to change the landscape of the human body; both in terms of ability and in terms of appearance, there are not two more important words than:

- Awareness

- Discipline

I became aware of that which I wanted to change. I applied the discipline required to affect those changes.

In fitness, I believe these are the only two words which matter…

With a healthy respect for those two words, an entire attitude can be formed, and a body can be changed… Be well. rc

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Please check back in two weeks to see what happens when I hit the “stop” button on the blender in my head.
Oh, and there is this from Poi Dog Pondering. Enjoy….

On social cancers, building walls, and establising legitimacy…

Posted by Roy Cohen in 1 and tagged with Adaptation, Almost nothing to do with fitness, Attitude, Bad Ideas, Benefit, Borders, Boundaries, Cancer, Change, Clubs, Corporations, Disease, Essays, Exercise, Expectations, Followers, Getting Hoodwinked, Governments, Groups, Guilt, Ideas, Leaders, Living In The Modern World, Memes, Mob Mentality, Personal Responsibility, Perspective, Philosophy, Politics, Reflection, Religion, Ritual, Routines and Framework, Social changes, Social Media, The future, Venting Middle-aged Fitness Trainer Who No Longer Needs A Drink, Walls February 19, 2013

No real cancer answer…

I have believed for some time that the future of humanity depends largely on religious tolerance. I believe that through my very core. To say the same thing from a less optimistic direction, it is my opinion that religious intolerance is a social cancer metastasizing, and preparing to deliver a slow and excruciating and death to mankind.

Of course the conundrum in that scenario is that humanity’s cancer can’t be treated or cured by a select few practitioners such as priests, popes, or prime ministers. For this cancer to be cured it will need to be an effort in which the entire congregation opens their minds and steps outside of their comfort zone. Let the followers lead, and the leaders will follow. Well, that’s not going to happen anytime soon.

We can see this pattern unfolding in other areas of life as well – everyday, and all around us. Divisions in nations, politics, the sciences, and social issues in the media are increasing as time expands. Chasms extend. Harder and faster lines are being drawn as cultures and subcultures push further apart, and shore themselves into deeper isolation. As these divisions become wider, the walls separating them become more important to those behind the walls.

Let’s face it, we just need somebody to fear – or somebody to hate…

Chasms in lesser places…

There is an increasing divisiveness in the fitness communities as well. We have clean eating vs. IIFYM, Yoga vs. Pilates, Paleo eating vs. Mediterranean eating, barefoot running vs. ultra-stabilizing shoes, P90x vs. Tai Chi, and CrossFit vs. the gym on the corner. Of course, these are just light examples of such divisions. Hard and fast lines are being drawn, walls are being built, and unwitting insurgents are being bread by way of the social media with each new week, and with each new trend.

Think about it: the ways that fitness factions use their constituencies, information, and the media to increasingly establish their legitimacy is not too different from the ways religions, nations, and causes use their constituencies, information, and the media to establish their legitimacy. There is a blurry line though, between establishing legitimacy, and creating isolation. Just look at around…

“Mr. Gorbachev, tear down that wall.”

Oh, and when you’re done, can we please recycle the materials so we can build a new wall in Gaza, or in Texas…?

In fitness subcultures, unlike in national or religious identities, loose borders are first established by the followers of organic trends such as barefoot running. As an organic trend catches on and increases, speculators identify the trends and see them as profit centers. They then seek to take control of those borders, redraw them, and depend on those who initially carved them out organically, to take protect them. The followers of the organic trend have then become followers of a corporate trend, and the organic subculture dissipates in favor of a for-profit trend. Then again, maybe that is how happens in states, nations, and faiths…

The leaders of fitness business trends don’t scare me as much as the foot-soldiers who guard these borders do. The followers, or devotees, of many modern fitness movements are the militia of these fitness factions. Like other militias, these people often don’t even understand the flexibility of the borders they strive to protect, yet they make the most noise, and throw the first gas cocktails when feeling threatened. Many aren’t too willing to try and understand the other factions. Hope fades in fitness, as it does in Gaza.

“For this cancer to be cured it will need to be an effort in which the entire congregation opens their minds and steps outside of their comfort zone. Let the followers lead, and the leaders will follow.”

Getting good with groups…

There must be some reasons that life, in biological and in social terms, unfolds in groups rather than in singularities. We have multiple languages, corporations, skin tones, species, radio stations, landscapes, faiths, and fitness pursuits. Life varies. There is simply no denying the divisions of life that we live among and between.

I teach a very specific style of strength training. I see a great deal of utility in what I teach and I’m proud of how I teach it. I don’t, however, see it as absolute. Nor do I see what I do as a good fit for everyone. It’s a good fit for those who see it as a good fit for them. So too should be Judaism, Hinduism, and Catholicism.

In this age of increasing divisiveness, I don’t find it surprising that people may not agree with one way of eating vs. another way, or of one way of exercise vs. another. What does surprise me though, is how passionate people become about disagreeing with others.

Building walls and screaming through them is our new national identity. It just seems to me that channeling all that passion into understanding others, even if we disagree with them, might be a better use of our energy. I guess I would also like to see that applied to the way we view nations, faiths, and causes as well… Be well. rc

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Please check back in two weeks to see what happens when I push the “stop” button on the blender in my head. Oh, and there is this from the Replacements. Enjoy…

The Mother Of Reinvention…

Posted by Roy Cohen in 1 and tagged with Adaptation, Attitude, Benefit, Change, Discipline, Effort, Essays, Exercise, Expectations, Food, Growth, Ideas, Inspiration, Personal Responsibility, Perspective, Reflection, Reinvention, Ritual, Routines and Framework, The future, Training Partners, Venting Middle-aged Fitness Trainer Who No Longer Needs A Drink February 18, 2013

“Necessity is the mother of invention” Unknown

Not yet invented, or reinvented, mother Carrie Sandoval seen demonstrating her world class photography skills for Carson Kressley. More on that later…

Jack Of All Activities, Master Of None

As a fitness trainer I have worked to complete a variety of physical accomplishments. Some of these I have enjoyed and kept primary in my life; they connect the thinking me with the skeletal me. I have found much fulfillment in strength training, trail running, and surfing. I have excelled in strength training – not so much with surfing and trail running, though I do enjoy them.

Strength training; the methadone of my existance… 2005

I have participated in other activities because fitness is my livelihood and feel I should be adept in a variety of actions. I have found little joy in running marathons, paddling a flat board across the open ocean, horseback riding, or hitting a little ball a couple of hundred yards with a stick – but I can say I have participated in them, and done so with serious intentions.

Comparing Me With Myself

In pursuit of physical challenges, I have rarely compared myself to anyone else. If I have felt any need for comparison, I have occasionally compared the me of today, with the me of yesterday. In truth, I’m not too competitive even with myself. I do the things I do, intensely and passionately, because pushing my body hard sooths my reckless mind, regardless of how well I perform.

I understand that the human body will only get so strong and so fast. To want too much of these, I would be physically greedy, and I’m just not a greedy guy – usually. I also respect that we are designed to age and to lose our capacities over time, and I’m good with that.

Post Long Beach Marathon — King Taco in hand… 2008

Bustin’ Down The Door

The first time Carrie entered my studio I was immediately struck by her musculature. She had been introduced to me by her Hapkido Master, who was my neighbor located behind my fitness studio. He felt strength training would be complimentary to Carrie’s increasing fitness regimen. Two days later she began strength training under my guidance.

Three things were immediately evident about Carrie:

She is genetically gifted, both in strength and in structure.
She has a supreme work ethic.
She is a discriminating eater.

With that combination, in my mind, she was about to become a competitive bodybuilder. I would confront her about this on and off for over a year as her development advanced. In an aw-shucks kind of way, she expressed that she really wasn’t interested in that. That’s okay. To be great at something and not want to compete, displays a rare humility.

This beauty is a beast…

Ups And Downs

Carrie made fast progress with her strength and with her physique. As hers were on the rise though, mine were on the way down. Due to a couple years of scattered workouts, intermittent eating patterns, and boredom, my strength as well as my physique was waning. As this occurred, I began comparing myself more and more to Carrie. Consider that; a professional fitness trainer was now comparing himself to a 40-year old mother of four.

No, you’re not hallucinating. Incline bench presses with 50 lb. dumbbells — in perfect form…

Though I was stronger than Carrie in most every movement, she was in the conversation. After a year though, our directions crossed paths and she became stronger than me in nearly every movement in the gym. There was no shame in that for me – she’s just gifted and hard working. This did illuminate though, that I was becoming more content with being in a lesser state of fitness. Carrie would also become leaner – much leaner.

Enough Is Enough

Carrie wasn’t always the beast who roared her way through the deadlift forest. Four years ago she was eating at McDonald’s 3-4 times per week. Her typical order was 2 regular hamburgers, a large order of fires, and a regular Dr. Pepper. Poor eating was where she was. Physical activity was where she was not. She even nicknamed herself, The Cookie Monster, for her love of cookies.

The cookie monster is no longer on the loose…

Whether it was out of necessity or not, this mother decided to reinvent herself. In addition to Hapkido, she began fitness classes in that same studio. Eventually Carrie was handed some eating tips by guru Bud Ravenscroft. Adherence to these suggestions fostered noticeable progress with her weight loss, and that progress changed the way Carrie viewed and used food.

Carrie also changed the way she viewed muscle. Previously resistant, she came to accept the value of muscle on a woman. That’s when she chose a new path – the path of most resistance.

Carrie has her tickets to the gun show…

The Mother Of My Reinvention

As this 40-year old mother blew by me, I found new inspiration. I was still ahead of the game for being over 50, but came to feel I should be stronger and faster than anyone I train, or at least as strong, and at least as fast. It became time for me to walk the walk once again.

Twelve weeks in and finally seeing me again…

Since we were evenly matched in strength and workout intensity, I approached Carrie about leaving my care as a client, and joining me as a workout partner. She felt this would be mutually beneficial and agreed. That was about three months ago.

They eyes have it, and if the don't the striations do...

They eyes have it, and if they don’t, the striations do…

My workouts with Carrie have raised my game. I push myself harder so I can teach her better. I push myself harder because I’m inspired by her. I believe this is mutual. I’m using poundages I have not used in years, and I’m loving my workouts like a junkie loves a hot spoon. Our Sunday morning trail runs on Monserate Hill are epic, and have become an integral part of each week’s rebirth.

Getting back to being me again… Monserate Hill, 2012

Of Grindage And Grace

What I have learned most from Carrie is something I have known for years, have taught to hundreds of others, yet not practiced myself too much of late – that for success in fitness, eating is 80% of the game. I’m eating today, better than I have eaten in years. Those eating choices are showing up in how I look, how I perform with my activities, and even in how I think. I have, it seems, engaged in a reinvention of my own, sponsored by this mother.

The traditional post-Monserat Greek Salad. Z-Fafe, Bonsall, CA

The traditional post-Monserat Greek Salad. Z-Cafe, Bonsall, CA

If you had told me four years ago that the person I would most compare myself to – most strive to be like, and most be inspired by, would be a forty-two year old mother of four, I would have laughed in your face. Now Carrie has become a mother of six; her four children, and her two reinventions – hers and mine. Be well. rc

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My last essay for 2012. Please have a safe and healthy holiday season. Check back in early January to see what happens when I push the “stop” button on the blender in my head…

Ab-solutley, NOT!

Posted by Roy Cohen in 1 and tagged with Absolutely NOTHING To DO With Fitness, Benefit, Exercise, Expectations, Getting Hoodwinked, Ritual, Venting Middle-aged Fitness Trainer Who No Longer Needs A Drink February 18, 2013

Short and sweet this week. Some thoughts on abdominal work which I posted to my Contemplative Fitness Facebook page a few weeks back. If you haven’t yet “liked” that page, please check it out today.

Please check back here in two weeks for a fresh essay on the philosophy behind the fitness.

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Abs: completely misunderstood…

Despite all the crunches, sit-ups, and kinetic abdominal exercises that you have done in the past, and all the ab exercises which have been crammed down your throats by the so-called “experts” in the fitness media, the primary function of your abdominal muscles has been long forgotten, or perhaps has never even been understood by you, the owner of the abdominals.

The abdominal muscles (and tendons) exist on your torso, along with muscles of the low and middle back, to stabilize your torso when your body is under strain. That is, they are meant to flex much more often than they are meant to move.

Sadly, as lists of the “top 5”ab exercises get thrown around the internet, the gym, the office, and the TV set, the most relevant and functional of all abdominal exercises never seem to make those lists. Here’s the beautiful part though; if you’re a regular strength trainer, runner, cyclist, or just an active person, you’re probably already offering your abdominals all the functional training they need.

My two favorite examples exercises which strengthen and condition the abs, aside from standing up and siting down, are deadlifts and squats – the acts of weighted standing up and sitting down. Without realizing it, we flex our abdominal muscles, as well as the muscles of our low-backs when we sit and stand – this flexion is what keeps us from scattering our vertebrae all over the room.

Flexing the abdominal muscles is a natural involuntary response during most strenuous movement, including strength training, running, cycling, and gardening. In strength training for example, regardless of whether the exercises are performed on machines, with dumbbells, while seated or standing, your abdominal muscles continually flex to keep your spine in-line.

Notwithstanding, kinetic abdominal exercises such as sit-ups, crunches, and leg raises do not determine or influence the shape of the abdominal muscle – AT ALL. Genetic predisposition does that. The only tendons in your body that fuse muscle to muscle, and not muscle to bone, are the tendons of the abdominal group. Those tendons are what create the lines between the muscular sections of your would-be six-pack. Your mom and dad dealt you those tendons, and no exercise you choose will influence genetic predisposition.

Yes, the abdominals do allow one to sit-up and to crunch, but movement is a secondary responsibility for the abs. Flexion for the sake of stability is their main mission. If you do any amount of regular deadlifting, squatting, standing or sitting, then your abdominal muscles are getting their share of functional work.

If you would like to add a kinetic movement into your workout, I suggest the cross-over crunch (commonly referred to as the bicycle maneuver) shown in the attached video. This movement recruits upper, medial, and lower abs, as well as including a torso rotation to increase flexibility in the low back and obliiques. This is a very efficient exercise, and the only ab exercise I do on a regular basis… Be well. rc

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Please check back in two weeks to see what happens when I push the “stop” button the blender in head.

Yes, each day does matter…

Posted by Roy Cohen in 1 and tagged with Gretchen February 12, 2013

I began yesterday thinking I was having the worst possible day…

I woke up to an ice-cold shower – my water heater had developed a leak, and shut down overnight.

I had planned to spend time catching up on food journaling, and correspondence with my clients after my morning sessions were complete – my internet went out mid-morning.

I chose to cancel my afternoon sessions so I could seek resolution to the internet problem, and to have a new water heater installed.

A loss of time equals loss of income for a sole proprietor – this is never a good thing, least of all in the months after the holidays.

Notwithstanding, I missed my own scheduled workout due to the visits from AT&T, and from the plumbers.

Nothing was going well, I was completely out of my rhythm, and there was no sign of my bad day synching back up into a pleasant conclusion.

Eventually, I got my water heater replaced, and I was able to get my internet reestablished – for a while. I was elated to be connected again.

The first email I opened was from my friend Shelly. She had asked me if I heard about a mutual friend of ours, who had apparently had a heart attack overnight. Shelly advised me that our friend, Gretchen, was in the ICU of a nearby hospital. Through another mutual friend, Gretchen’s cousin Kim, I received the following message a few hours later:

“I just spoke with my mom. Gretchen suffered a severe heart attack. It is estimated that it took between 10-30 minutes to re-start her heart, during which she was deprived of oxygen to her brain. She is heavily sedated to keep from the seizures/tremors she is experiencing that could cause further brain damage. The neurologist said that the next 24 hours are critical, and not much further diagnosis can be made until she is more stable. He said that if/when she comes out of this state, there is little chance of a full recovery.”

Every time I think I’m having the worst possible day, I try to look for a reminder – some little thing that will remind me that things can often be much worse. Sometimes I have to work hard to find such a reminder. Yesterday the reminder was delivered to me, via email.

Gretchen passed away that afternoon. Only a few years separated us in age. Gretchen was a beautiful woman, with a kind heart. She was an active person who loved her family, her pets, and her friends. She enjoyed living, being active, and being social.

Gretchen…

The sudden loss of someone so young, so active, and so vibrant is always shocking. I really don’t know that there are any lessons to be learned from this. There is though, that little reminder of the biggest cliché I utter from week to week; that every day matters.

Suddenly that thought doesn’t sound so cliché.

No internet, no hot water, no workout for a day – small stuff, no problem. Actually, experiencing, and recovering from such small problems seems like a pretty good way to go through life. “through life”… rc

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Please check back in two weeks to see what happens when I push the “stop” button on the blender in my head….

Going Home, by Mark Knopfler

Not quite, dead…

Posted by Roy Cohen in 1 February 4, 2013

Yesterday I coached a friend and workout partner to a 315 pound deadlift – almost. I have said this to her, as I have said this to clients thousands of times:

“I will never put a weight in your hands, or at the ends of your legs, unless I am certain you can do it for at least one complete repetition.”

That turned out to be a distortion on my part yesterday. She and I joked and made small talk in her car as we headed to a nearby urgent care facility to seek treatment for her back. No broken vertebrae, just a muscular strain. I was asked to leave them room as the nurse shot up her back with a strong anti-inflammatory.

I bought her lunch after we left urgent care, and I then watched nervously as she ate. She was rigid and moved cautiously, with difficulty at times. I cried some, and said I’m sorry over and over again. I fought an increasing nausea as the day continued. I just couldn’t let go.

Humbly, she insisted this wasn’t my fault. We had discussed earlier that often times earning the biggest rewards can require taking the biggest risks. There was talk between us after lunch of her next attempt at 315. There was also talk between us of no future attempts of a single-rep-max, ever. I don’t even recall where we left off.

After my skydiving accident in 1993, I swore I would never deadlift again. These days I deadlift about every 10 days or so. Yesterday I watched my partner collapse to the ground after failing with 315 lbs. I joked with her and laughed until I realized she was hurt – then I was horrified. What purpose is there, I have been thinking ever since, in lifting such heavy weights…? Or running marathons…? Or driving cars in circles at 200 mph…?

There are blurry lines between what we want to do, what we can do, and what we should do. Identifying these lines is a challenge to be sure. Reconciling where we fit between those lines, or if we should fit between them at all, can be maddening. There are no clear answers. Still, we choose to do the things we choose to do because we love to do them. I guess that should be enough.

At the end of most days I still believe that sitting still is simulating death. At the end of the day yesterday, I had to wonder if sitting still doesn’t actually preserve life… rc

SEEN BELOW. CARRIE SANDOVAL SUCCESSFULLY PERFORMING A RAISED DEAD LIFT AT 275 LBS.

Life in the garage…

Posted by Roy Cohen in 1 and tagged with Adaptation, Attitude, Benefit, Change, Childhood Dreams, Dinners With Dad, Discipline, Essays, Exercise, Expectations, Garage Bands, Growth, Ideas, Personal Responsibility, Perspective, Philosophy, Reflection, Royisms, Tacorito, The Beatles, The future, The Holly Inn, Venting Middle-aged Fitness Trainer Who No Longer Needs A Drink January 26, 2013

The Holly Inn

I was 16 years old. I sat with my father at our favorite table at the Holly Inn Mexican Restaurant, a Denver institution since that 1960s. During this period my father and I ate at the Holly Inn as often as 5 nights per week. Some of the best memories I have with my dad are conversations we had over dinner there. On this night though, it was to be another what are you going to do with your life talk. Or maybe it was to be another what you are going to do with your life talk. I don’t recall.

What I do recall, quite clearly, is that as I was eating my Tacorito, with my puffy teenage arms abusing the sleeves of my knit shirt, I used a false confidence to hold back my fears and uncertainties of life from my father, and I uttered the following sentence to him,

“I’m going to be the Beatles of exercise.”

When he was finished chuckling, he suggested something about the military, or possibly law school. When I was finished chuckling, we reduced ourselves back to small talk – perhaps about the most recent episode of our favorite show, M*A*S*H, and enjoyed our nightly meal and some laughs.

As it turned out that there was already a “Beatles of exercise”, Jack LaLanne. But unlike the Beatles, Jack’s heyday was already fading. Arnold Schwarzenegger though, was about to become The Rolling Stones, The Who, and the Led Zeppelin of exercise, all rolled into one. Who was I to rain on his parade…

A couple of years later I was earning $2.65 per hour as an “Instructor” for Nautilus Fitness Centers. When I wasn’t “instructing” I was cleaning toilets and mopping floors. Maybe the military wouldn’t be so bad…

Gulfport, Mississippi, 1985. I was proudly serving in the United States Coast Guard – cleaning toilets and mopping floors for the equivalent of $1.23 per hour. Maybe being an “Instructor” in a gym wouldn’t be so bad…

The sound of a good garage band…

My other passion in life, beyond exercise, is music. I love music of all kinds. The music I most identify with is the good old American garage band. Old tube amplifiers offering filthy sounds, odd guitar tunings, faulty gear, voices that are less than perfect, fist fights, broken strings, a plastic cup full of Jim Beam on a Marshall amp, and all the energy that comes with it. That, that is my definition of a garage band. I would much rather pay money to see a really good garage band, than I would to see The Stones.

Garage band dreams never die….

Most garage bands never get signed though. They may play together for a few months or a few years, but they eventually they get tired, frustrated, angry, or all of the above and break up. They grow older, move on to other things, different career paths, and families. Deep down though, they are always musicians with a rock and roll dream.

Even without a band, a musician will often keep on playing. Maybe at night, after a long day in the office, he’ll head down to his basement after his kids are asleep, plug in his guitar, put on the headphones, and just play. Rock and roll dreams die hard. Then one day the phone rings,

“Dude, let’s get the band back together! I think we can get a gig…”

Suddenly, being a project manager for a technology company seems far less important than loading amps into a minivan after a smoky gig at the local pub at 2 O’clock in the morning. The dream lives.

Rock and roll dreams…

Some garage bands never breakup, nor do they ever break. They just accept their lot in life – the career path of gigging for food. It’s just who they are. They build up a nice following, travel from town to town, sell their shirts and CDs for a meager price, and smile most of the time. Their fans think they’re better than the The Stones. They make enough money to pay their bills. They live the dream daily, if only on a much smaller scale. They enjoy the freedom of creativity without the burden of the money, the fame, and all that creative restraints that go with it. If nothing else, they are organic. Most musicians I know who fall into this category work very hard at it, but it’s a labor of love.

I’m not talking about a band though am I…? I’m talking about a solo act, and a fitness trainer at that. I never became the Beatles of exercise. I have though, maintained myself as pretty good garage band of exercise. I have my following, and they would rather pay to work with me than they would with Jillian Michaels. I have my platform, this blog. I even have fans on my Facebook and on my youtube pages – by the dozens. I work very hard it, but it’s a labor of love.

When I step back and look at my life; from my training studio, to the scribblings of my blog, to my youtube channel, it is all very very garage. Low production value, with unlimited artistic freedom is my happy place. The older I get, the more I’m okay with being a really good garage band of exercise. It is who I am – organic.

In my quietest moments, I may still occasionally dream of being the Beatles of exercise, but I wouldn’t change a thing about how my life has unfolded. Now it’s off to write that book and see if I can sell a couple dozen. Will train for food. … Be well. rc

I would like to offer a very special shout-out this week to my friend, Douglas Towne, who I have known since we were kids. Nobody has consistently championed my writing and encouraged me more than Doug. Doug’s writings of the Old Southwest can be seen in Phoenix Magazine, The New Times, and Society For Commercial Archeology. Thank you very much for your encouragement my friend!

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Please check back in 2 weeks to see what happens when I press the “stop” button on the blender in my head. Oh, and there is this from Eric Clapton. Enjoy…

Never mind. Always mind…

Posted by Roy Cohen in 1 and tagged with Adaptation, Aesthetics, Attitude, Benefit, Beyond The Body, Capacity, Change, Concentrtion, Discipline, Effort, Essays, Exercise, Expectations, Growth, Hysterical Strength, Ideas, Perspective, Philosophy, Ritual, Routines and Framework, Rules, Strength, Tips, Using The Mind, Venting Middle-aged Fitness Trainer Who No Longer Needs A Drink January 17, 2013

Controlled Hysteria…

It’s said often that the mind is more powerful than the body. If a person taps more deeply into his mind, his physical capacity can be greater than if he attempts physicality with his body alone. We’ve all heard the myth of the mother lifting the car off of her endangered child. That, and similar stories have been recounted through many years in varying regions of the world. Myth isn’t something that never happened. Myth is something that happens over and over again.

The phenomenon known as Hysterical Strength is involuntary. Hysterical strength seemingly can’t be summoned, only experienced. It is unique to an unexpected moment, such as seeing a loved one trapped under a heavy object. However, anyone who has been involved in strength training with more serious intentions, and who is familiar with this phenomenon, has surely attempted to experience that kind of superhuman strength on demand. I have.

I wonder if she’s wishing she hadn’t picked it up…

In fact, I deliberately draw from my mind as much, if not more, than I do from my body when I attempt to lift successively heavier weights. Not just with heavier weights either. I also draw more from my mind when I seek to lift the same weights for more repetitions, or in more complete form. This mindset has been the primary tenet of my style of strength training for a majority of my life. Because I’m not genetically gifted in the areas of strength and power, I have learned to use my mind to take my body places that my genetic predisposition could not meet.

One of the least explored aspects of strength training, for far too many people, is that the body is used almost exclusively to carry the load in the weight room. The mind is too often left on the wrong side of the gym doors. For many, it seems, there is no supreme connection between mind and body. To me this is at the heart of progress. So much potential remains unfulfilled when the mind fails to enter the workout.

Where my workout really takes place…

Foster The Progress…

Physiologically the human body does not change that much from week to week, and less from day to day. When we intelligently track what the body is capable of in the form of exercise journaling, we have information available to us that can be used to feed our minds, and help us increase the body’s capacity. I have written down nearly every workout I have taken since I was 15 years old. That’s a lot of information. It is the most recent workouts though, that offer the most useful information; what have I done for me lately…?

My workout journal. Written in a code so confusing the Rosetta Stone couldn’t hep…

If I have recently used a given weight for a certain number of repetitions of a particular exercise, then I know I have it within me to do it again. True, some days are better than others. Some days, I’m just not feelin’ it. But that’s my point. On those not feelin’ it days, it is more likely that my mind is not feelin’ it, with my body acting as directed by my mind.

When I wrap my hands around a bar and begin to lift, I have one goal above all other goals; to complete my set with better form than the set prior, despite that fatigue from prior sets has minimized my capacity. As I do this battle with gravity, I understand that the outcome takes place in my mind first. Only after my mind accepts the impending task, is my body directed to execute that task. It’s all I think about in-between sets. I simply try to create myth, over and over again.

“Every battle ever fought is won or lost before it takes place.” Sun Tsu, from The Art Of War.

The Art Of War. Best fitness book ever written…

I live that ideal with every set of every workout. Whether I’m successful in achieving this is not as important as consistently attempting call my mind into the workout. I accept that my body is only going to get so strong. I simply seek to make a priority of going to a place in my mind where I think exclusively about increased capacity and perfection in form. I take what I know my body is capable of, based on history, and I then ask it for at least as much, and often end up with just a bit more.

From this management of my exercise, my capacity can be maximized to fulfill my potential. Capacity and aesthetics are my joint destinations. Though my body may be the vehicle, it is my mind that plans the route and steers the course. Be well. rc

Lemmings, Fitness Trainers, Bosses And Me…

Posted by Roy Cohen in 1 and tagged with Benefit, Change, Cubicles, Exercise, Expectations, Fitness Trainers, Getting Hoodwinked, Humor, Lemmings, Living In The Modern World, Personal Responsibility, Perspective, Royisms, Testing to see which of you morons is reading my tags, The future, Venting Middle-aged Fitness Trainer Who No Longer Needs A Drink, Work January 10, 2013

It’s like gym class, only it pays…

A disproportionately large number of fitness trainers choose their profession because, from the perspective of a fitness enthusiast, it appears to be a fun job that looks easier and more rewarding than a typical office job. To a young and active person, I can see why fitness training might appear to be a great career path. Helping people change their lives has got to be better than moving papers from pile A to pile B, while all the while a boss is staring over one’s shoulder.

The boss, aka, Douchesaurus Rex…

I have often said that I feel like I’m on summer vacation year round. I make my living in shorts and bare feet, my commute involves stepping over my dog as I carry my coffee into my studio, and I’m never far from what I love most in life; my pretty little weights. I have a good gig and I try hard never to forget that. Because I have always lived for the gym, I have built my life so that I now live in the gym – literally.

Shining Light On The Career Path…

I may refer to myself as self-employed, but I actually have 26 bosses – 26 people who trust me with their time and their money, and who have the expectation that they receive equal value from those investments. I work very hard every day to try to give them value in my product. My product is not my equipment, my knowledge, nor my planned workouts. My product is the sum of all of those things, communicated well.

The reality is fitness training takes a great deal of work. It’s a job like any other job, and a business like any other business. Days can often be long. Some sessions will go better than others. At the end of the workweek it always feels good to be done. At the end of the weekend though, it always feels good to get back to work – for me anyway.

That said, there are a lot of lemming fitness trainers out there – mindless and bored, and going through the motions as so many office lemmings also go through the motions of their jobs; moving papers about their cubicles, avoiding their bosses, sending and returning emails, and doing scarcely enough to keep a paycheck coming.

“And to think, I could be holding a clipboard and counting to 10…”

What to seek from a fitness trainer…

Most people I speak with in search of a fitness trainer look primarily for knowledge and education. Clearly these are important components of a trainer’s skill-set. I often think though, they are overemphasized. Knowledge and education are only part of what is needed to be a quality fitness trainer. Being a good trainer requires impeccable speaking and listening skills.

One can possess all the knowledge in the world, but if he can’t communicate that knowledge effectively, it will go unused. Conversely, a strong communicator can thoroughly teach the fundamentals of exercise, which in many cases, is all a trainee will require. Basic fitness skills, taught completely, can go a long way in helping someone take ownership of their body.

Would-be trainers take not: To succeed, you'll need a whole bunch of these...

Would-be trainers take note: To succeed, you’ll need a whole bunch of these…

A trainer who possesses good listening skills will have a much better understanding of the trainee’s needs, limitations, mindset, and personal values. Of all the qualities a good trainer must possess, in my opinion, being a good listener should be near or at the tip of the list. With that, the trainer should seek most of all, to understand the trainee’s personal values, and gradually influence those values to include more mindful decisions with regard to personal wellness.

How he wrangles…

The number one priority a fitness trainer should have is to establish the threshold and capacity of his trainee in all aspects of fitness including; balance, strength, endurance, and flexibility as immediately as possible. Only after these are established, can a trainer engage in his second priority; to slowly, and in small increments, increase those thresholds, while promoting safe but challenging exercise.

Cultivate. Another primary responsibility of the trainer is to cultivate progress, not to force it. Cultivating an increased fitness level is a process which requires planning, patience, consistency, and teamwork. There’s no “I” in teamwork, but there’s meat work if you rearrange the letters. To get the meat to work, both trainer and trainee must be on the same page and committed.

It requires teamwork for this meat to work…

A few things to keep in mind when selecting a fitness trainer…

If the trainer is still wearing his diamond encrusted high school football number on a sliver chain around his neck, be leery of him. He is his first priority.

Uhm…., most every male trainer I have ever met…

If on meeting a trainer, there is a cell phone in one of his hands, and a protein drink in the other, he may not be your guy.

If the trainer looks like he needs a trainer more than you do, run!

Sincerely, there is much to consider when selecting a trainer, far beyond the size of his arms, the shape of her ass, or the number of “certifications” they might hold.

What I encourage everyone to do who might be in search a fitness trainer is to remember first and foremost, you are going to be that trainer’s boss! He or she will be your employee. Don’t just look for a trainer, interview many. Interview them as you would interview any potential employee in the workplace, always with the perspective that you won’t want to interview a replacement anytime soon. Interview well… rc

“Have you seen my stapler…?” Having Milton in the office is harmless. Having him as your trainer…

Misguided Intentions…

Posted by Roy Cohen in 1 and tagged with Adaptation, Americanness, Benefit, Bicycles, Change, Commuting, Discipline, Dr. J, Effort, Essays, Exercise, Expectations, Getting Hoodwinked, Growth, Ideas, Living In The Modern World, Perspective, Philosophy, Ritual, Technology, Venting Middle-aged Fitness Trainer Who No Longer Needs A Drink December 27, 2012

Evolution Of My Wheels

Four years ago I gave away my Jeep in favor of a bicycle. That transition wasn’t difficult. I live in a small town, and I’m in good physical condition – bicycle makes sense. For three of those four years, despite said small town, I commuted on my bike over an hour each day to and from work. I embraced that commute as part of my workout scheme since I would have invested as much time in a cardiovascular exercise each day.

When I began my bicycle commute I rode a beach cruiser. The workout, riding to and from work on a fixed gear bike, was both challenging and rewarding. However, it was not time efficient. After several months I would transition onto a mountain bike to shorten the duration of my commute. I eventually transitioned to a road bike to further shorten my commute at a time when minutes mattered.

32 pounds of fun…

As the technology of my bicycle evolved and the length of the commute lessened, the “workout” became easier and less fulfilling. I would make up for that lost intensity by intermingling sprints and stair-stepper sessions into my lunch break each day. On the weekends, as I had time available, I would take my road bike longer distances, often carrying a weighted pack to force an increased cardio output.

My pretty red bike. Monserate Hill,, Fallbrook, CA…

Paying More And Getting Less

My road bike is actually a touring bike. I paid less than $1,000 for it new. It has no carbon fiber, no titanium, and weighs over 20 pounds – much more than most road bikes. Still, when I have ridden with my serious cycling and triathlete friends, I have had no problem keeping up with them, and have lead the way more than a time or two. Most of my cycling friends have bikes much lighter than mine – bikes that weigh in the 15-18 pound range.

Most of my cycling friends have at least a few thousand dollars invested in their bikes, often much more. One friend has over $10,000 invested in her bike. She competes at a high level. Most cycling enthusiasts don’t compete at a high level, or compete at all. Many people get into cycling for the health benefits; to lose weight, increase their fitness level, or both.

There is a direct correlation between the cost of a bicycle, its components, and a lack of weight in the bike. That is, when one invests more money into their bike, it’s to make the bike lighter. The lighter the bicycle is, the more efficiency there is in peddling. For the competitive cyclist, efficient peddling equates to faster times. This makes sense since competitive cyclists ride exclusively for time.

However, for the common fitness enthusiast or weight loss candidate, riding for time should be a lesser concern, and cardio output should be a priority. I’m no math whiz, but this doesn’t add up to match the popular trend of investing in a lighter bike. If a heavier bike is less expensive, and riding it longer will promote an increased fitness level sooner, I fail to understand the investment in a lighter bike as a means of easier peddling.

Notwithstanding, I have known dozens of people willing to invest an extra few hundred dollars on their bike, only to reduce the weight by a single pound. Yet many of these same people are carrying an extra 20 pounds around their waist. That math adds up even less. Losing weight is free, and without that extra 20 pounds of bodyweight, the overall load would be lightened considerably. At some point, I wonder why the mentality hasn’t evolved into having an engine installed on the bike so one can just sit back and just enjoy the ride. Wait, it has evolved that way…

For s few hundred dollars more, you might even fit a V6 on this thing…

The Technology On The Inside

I am reminded of the many golfers I have known who have come to depend on – come to expect club technology to improve their game. I often think lesser clubs would be just as effective for the frustrated golfer, if only he would only take time to hit balls more regularly, take swing lessons, and concentrate more on the single shot, rather than showing off what he thinks he knows. Be it in golf, cycling, or weight loss, it takes effort and consistency to improve.

The quest to have the lightest bike, and the latest in technologies seems to be much more about keeping up with trends than it does to reap the benefits of cycling. I’ll suggest for most who invest in titanium forks, and who take time to cut off the seat post below the clamp, these values will never be noticed during the ride. For those who chose to lose 20 pounds around the waist though, that would be noticed.

The technology most needed to affect change in the body is the technology on the inside – the circuitry inside the mind, where rational decisions are made, or not. Primary among these decisions should be the acceptance that true change requires effort more than it requires technology.

I think of my friend, surgeon, pilot, and fitness enthusiast Dr. J and his bike, Desperado. No gears. No carbon fiber. No body fat. No problem.

Not sure if that’s Dr. J, or Bruce Lee. Same difference…

Dr. J and I once joked, “It’s called a workout, not an easeout.” For guys like us anyway… Be well. rc

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If you liked this essay, disliked it, or are indifferent to it, please take a moment to return to the top of this page and rate it.

Please check back in two weeks to see what happens when I push the “stop” button on the blender inside my head. Thank you.

Mayans Shmayans: Ushering In A New Era…

Posted by Roy Cohen in 1 and tagged with Adaptation, Benefit, Change, Discipline, Effort, End An Era, Essays, Exercise, Expectations, Faith, Growth, Ideas, Mayans Shmayans, Personal Responsibility, Perspective, Philosophy, Reflection, Ritual, Routines and Framework, Rules, Ushering In A New Era, Venting Middle-aged Fitness Trainer Who No Longer Needs A Drink December 20, 2012

Mayans Shmayans. Let’s throw another Baktun on the fire and dance into a new era…

Ctrl, Alt, Del

There have been times in my life when I have made large decisions, seemingly at the spur of the moment. Often though, these spur of the moment decisions came after a great deal of internal contemplation, sometimes months or years in the making. When such a decision is finally made, it’s like a guillotine chop putting an end to a conflict in my head. This usually involves separation of some kind – business decisions, relationships, or vices.

There is that critical moment when I know, when I just know, that something in my life is about to change, or has to change. I then accept that the change in question can only take place at my will. I liken this to dealing with a frustrating computer problem and finally just pressing Ctrl, Alt, Del to restart, regardless of the consequences. I made such a decision today.

Time for personal reboot…

Ready, Fire, Aim!

Nearly every day for 13 years I have risen before the sun and prior to my shower, my first cup of coffee, and scarcely prior to my first coherent thought, I have engaged in at least 30 minutes of a rigorous cardiovascular activity. Nearly 5,000 times I have raised my head from my pillow with a sense of urgency similar to that of a father in search of a kidnapped child, and I think to myself,

“Give me back my cardio!”

…and out of bed I have bolted, and onto the machine I have climbed.

With the love of a kidnapped child…

Most often through the years, the altar of this morning ritual has been my stair-stepper. I have also taken said sacrament on my treadmill, my road bike, or on the road – with sneakers. Most recently, it has been my stationary bike. Whichever altar I have chosen on a given morning, I have always pushed hard. I have left sweat as my sacrifice, and offered a down payment of atonement for whatever ills I might commit during the remainder of the day.

The current altar of my morning sacrament…

Through rain, shine, or tonsillitis, this ritual has been a daily calling to order of my senses, my body, and psyche. My early morning exercise has been the launching pad for nearly 5,000 of my days, and tens of thousands of my thoughts, ideas, and plans. From early in 2004, deep into 2005, I engaged in a streak of 427 consecutive early morning cardio sessions, each before sunrise, without missing a single day.

Despite my early morning cardio ritual, I have often taken a second session during the day to sooth a growing rage, the onset of a depression, frustration, or all of the above. I once wrote that my stair-stepper has saved more lives than The US Coast Guard and The American Red Cross combined, for its ability to thwart the puppets in my head perpetrating lesser thoughts directed toward those around me.

Morning Dance: A Change Of Tunes

Lately, my morning cardio hasn’t been so inspired, or so important. Despite that I’m accomplishing more in 30 minutes on my stationary bike than ever before, it’s just not serving the purpose it once did. It has become increasingly harsh and unattractive. The gravity of another altar now draws me into its field, one I am much more comfortable in.

My desk, on a chilly morning, is more like a cozy cockpit. My cup of coffee, my space heater, the glow of my laptop, and Stroodle at my feet, converge to create an unseen force which lures me towards them. In the vaguely luminous predawn of my body and of my day, this is the essence of calm.

Stroodle under the desk…

I’ll sip coffee and divide time between correspondence, Facebook, writing essays, or writing in my personal journal. I’ll also take inventory, via the internet, of the events of the day prior. I listen to some music, sip some coffee, and toggle back and forth between technologies. There is a peace to this which fosters a different kind of awakening than physical exercise. Beginning my day through my fingertips, rather than through my feet, has become my new normal.

Fitting Square Legs Into A Square Hole

No, I haven’t abandoned my cardio. I have though, relocated it later into the day – to a time when I’m actually awake and high functioning. I’m as committed to the idea of sprinting, cycling, or trail running as I have ever been. So long as my legs can move, I will move them daily. My runs on Monserate Hill are better than ever. I’ve been crushing sessions on my stationary bike. I have even taken a few short mid-day runs through town and come to enjoy them again. These are a part of who I am. They are just no longer how I start my day.

The Best Time

As a fitness trainer, I have often preached the value of early morning exercise for its ability to set one up for a better day, and minimize opportunities for distractions which might thwart exercise to be done later. My workdays begin early though, and exercise in the dark no longer works for me. Early morning exercise, I have come to learn, is a good idea but not a requirement.

I’m lucky, I spend all day in my little gym, and I get to live here too. If I get a break mid-morning, I can sneak my cardio in then. If I work a solid day, it’s still there for me at the end of the day. Waking up early and coming to life more slowly has brought a new peace to my mornings which sets up for a better start to my day than exercise has more recently. It is age which has created this change, and I’m good with that.

Ever the contrarian, as a trainer I have often said this relative to my appreciation for early morning exercise: The best time to exercise is the time when you most enjoy it. I’m now doing that for the first time in years. Be well. rc

Left Behind…

Posted by Roy Cohen in 1 and tagged with Adaptation, Almost nothing to do with fitness, Attitude, Benefit, Change, Discipline, Effort, Exercise, Expectations, Family, Growth, Guilt, Ideas, Living In The Modern World, Obesity, Personal Responsibility, Perspective, Philosophy, Reflection, Ritual, Routines and Framework, Self-Loathing, Venting Middle-aged Fitness Trainer Who No Longer Needs A Drink December 10, 2012

I have seen it happen time, and time again. A person falls behind with their personal fitness; either they have never had it, or they have had it and let it slip away as adulthood manifested and responsibility set in. Some are fortunate though and are able to earn it, or to earn it back through hard work, perseverance, and consistency.

In a friendship, this can often leave a gap – some distance between the one who makes their personal fitness an increased priority, and one who views their body as a vehicle of forgivable sin. There can be resentment, frustration an increased stress on the friendship, and even a feeling of being left behind by one party.

This always breaks my heart. I can’t imagine not supporting a friend who strives to better his or her life. Often times this increased focus on personal fitness is viewed, or rationalized, by the outside friend as an obsession. Having been exposed to these situations so often, I rarely see this as a real obsession. It’s an appreciation and a commitment; an appreciation of being able to do, feel, and experience more in life, and a commitment to the lifestyle which enables that appreciation.

“To live is to fly” Townes Van Zandt Me on Monserat Hill 12/9/12. Fallbrook, CA

Here’s an open memo to the friends “left behind” everywhere: Be supportive of your friend in pursuit of change. Be understanding of the sacrifices required to make that change. Perhaps, you could even be inspired by said fitness-obsessed friend, and make some changes too… rc

Religiously Fit…

Posted by Roy Cohen in 1 and tagged with Adaptation, Almost nothing to do with fitness, Attitude, Benefit, Change, Discipline, Exercise, Expectations, Faith, Getting Hoodwinked, Growth, Guilt, Ideas, Living In The Modern World, Memes, Moses, Obesity, Personal Responsibility, Perspective, Philosophy, Reflection, Religion, Ritual, Rules, The future, Tips, Venting Middle-aged Fitness Trainer Who No Longer Needs A Drink December 5, 2012

I often use the analogy of faith when speaking about a fitness lifestyle. Matters of faith are where we often make our most mindful decisions. Fitness dogma may sound silly, but there is a definite parallel between religious faith, and the realization of fitness objectives.

To succeed in fulfilling a fitness agenda there must first be curiosity. After curiosity, there must be structure, leadership, ritual, and obedience. Finally, there must be belief; the belief that something better awaits a person for adhering to the observance of the ritual. Sounds like religion to me.

I actually do celebrate my fitness as my primary religion, and I’m not ashamed to say that because it’s not where my true faith lies. Exercise is however, where I’m best connected to my creator and to my potential. Exercise is where the inner me and the outer me come together.

If one is going to toss stone tablets, one will need strength, balance, and a strong core…

Suggesting that exercise be compared to religion may be offensive to some people, as suggesting that Toy Poodle be the other white meat. Still, to be whole is to be physically reverent, not just spiritually reverent. Be well. rc

Dinner And Everything After…

Posted by Roy Cohen in 1 and tagged with Adaptation, Attitude, Bad ideas from the ignorant fitness media, Benefit, Change, Discipline, Effort, Essays, Expectations, Food, Getting Hoodwinked, Growth, Ideas, Living In The Modern World, Memes, Metabolism, Obesity, Personal Responsibility, Perspective, Philosophy, Ritual, Routines and Framework, Rules, Tips, Venting Middle-aged Fitness Trainer Who No Longer Needs A Drink November 29, 2012

There is an ideal in fitness – a false meme that can be a contributing factor working against a person with a weight loss agenda. If I had to narrow my list of fitness pet peeves down, this one would be top 5. What I would like to illuminate, and help people conquer is the age old idea that a person seeking weight loss should not eat after dinner.

Tina’s Energy Crisis

I will use the example of a 30-something female who I’ll call Tina:

Presumably Tina eats dinner around 6:00 in the evening – whatever Tina’s dinner might be is not too relevant. If she’s an average American 30-something female, she’ll not actually eat breakfast until after 10:00 in the morning, and it will be scarcely healthy – enter the scone or the energy bar with a latte.

A slower metabolism is just a scone’s throw away…

As a 30-something, active female Tina requires about 1,800 calories per day to maintain her body weight. This means Tina is burning approximately 75 calories per hour to break even. To evoke a safe, sustainable weight loss, a calorie deficit of about 150 calories less per day would be recommended. This will place Tina at 1,650 calories per day. This means Tina will be living off approximately 68 calories per day on her journey to an improved body.

Relative to Tina’s BMR, she will be burning slightly more than those 68 calories per hour while she is awake and active – even if she sits on her ass all day and does little. What is often misunderstood about calories burned during the course of a day is that Tina will be burning only slightly fewer calories while she is sleeping – calories necessary for the energy it takes to sleep and recover from any would-be exercise or activity during her day.

If Tina stops eating at 6:00pm – after dinner, as is often recommended by the fitness media, and doesn’t eat again until 10:00am, then Tina has not fueled her body for a 2/3rds of the day – fuel which is required around the clock to bolster and enhance the metabolic effect for fostering weight loss. A majority of the day spent not eating – not fueling. How is a car supposed to make such a long journey without fuel…?

There is no shortage of published work suggesting hibernation theory; that by not eating often enough the body senses a decreased energy income. In order to overcome that decreased energy income, the body slows the metabolic process down to use less energy. Body fat is stored increasingly, and used only sparingly as fuel. This is how bears get through winter.

A Smeal Is A Hell Of A Deal

In a weight loss endeavor there’s little difference between snacks and meals – I just call them smeals. Every successful weight loss success story I have been associated with, male or female, young or not-so-young, has had several things in common, not the least of which is the rhythmic eating of smeals throughout the day. A smeal after waking up in the morning, a smeal at bedtime, and a few smeals every three to four hours in between can add up to a loss.

Eating rhythmically throughout the day, the brain and body conclude that since more energy is on the way, it’s not as urgent to slow down the metabolic process or to store energy as quickly in the form of body fat. That is, the motor runs fast, efficiently, and uses the best fuel. Add to that, additional calories burned due to increased activity, and the energy reserves (body fat) are utilized. This is one scenario in life when it’s good not to have reserves.

Sumo Slow

I often use the Sumo wrestler as an example of slowing down the metabolic process. We envision these large men who hail from Japan, a predominately demure culture, as being able to eat whatever they want. In part that’s true, Sumos take in a majority of their calories from a calorie-rich stew called, Chankonabe. However, Sumo wrestlers coax their metabolism by eating great quantities of Chankonabe, but only do so only once per day. This intake of substantial calories only one time per day enables weight gain at an exponential rate. Sumos train, eat, and sleep in an environment called a stable.

Life in the stable. I wonder how stable is heart is…?

A thought: For those reading this believing they will lose weight by eating just a little during the day and having a large dinner at night, remember Sumos live in stables, athletes dine at tables – and do so frequently. Be well. rc

Point The Finger At You…

Posted by Roy Cohen in 1 and tagged with Adaptation, Americanness, Benefit, Blame, Change, Discipline, Disease, Expectations, Food, Getting Hoodwinked, Growth, Guilt, Healthcare System, Ideas, Insurance, Living In The Modern World, Medicine, Memes, Obesity, Personal Responsibility, Perspective, Philosophy, Reflection, Ritual, Self-Loathing, Technology, The future, Venting Middle-aged Fitness Trainer Who No Longer Needs A Drink November 20, 2012

Many people I know complain – most people I know complain often about the healthcare system. People complain about greedy insurance companies, convoluted billing systems, apathetic physicians and medical workers, and about how those in Washington only make the problem worse.

At the foundation of all of this, in my opinion, there is much truth. The system in its current state blows. However, if every capable adult chose to exercise for 20-30 minutes daily, and every capable adult chose to keep their calories in line with CDC recommendations, I suspect the healthcare system would be much more fluid, much more time efficient, and far more dependable than it currently is.

Diabetes, hypertension, heart disease, and strokes occupy a large portion of the healthcare pie. Often times these ailments are genetically predisposed and can not be helped, but most often they are self-inflicted. In either case, none of these are the fault of greedy insurance companies, they are not the fault of convoluted billing systems, and they are not the fault of healthcare workers, or lawmakers. We can make the healthcare system better by making ourselves better.

A little movement daily, and a few less calories at each meal could add up to a drastically improved healthcare system. It could also result in a country better prepared to deal with increasing its woes. Be well. rc

The Strength To Be Perfect…

Posted by Roy Cohen in 1 and tagged with Adaptation, Attitude, Benefit, Body-Prayer, Cheating, Discipline, Effort, Essays, Exercise, Expectations, Growth, Ideas, Perfection, Philosophy, Reflection, Ritual, Routines and Framework, Rules, The Singular Repetition, Timelessness, Tips, Venting Middle-aged Fitness Trainer Who No Longer Needs A Drink November 15, 2012

The Form On The Inside

I tend to think absolutes. Since most of my thinking each day is dedicated to the ideal of strength training, I spend a great deal of time thinking about proper form in strength training – absolute form. By absolute I mean perfect. I think about it. I teach it. I attempt to live it. I believe I benefit from it greatly, outside and in.

Strength training is an endeavor where perfection actually can be attained, and done so daily. Think about that. Few opportunities in life can provide us with a chance to approach, let alone achieve perfection. It’s possible to do with strength training. Perfection in strength training is a choice – a series of choices.

Proper form in strength training is the heart of it. Internal and external benefit to one’s body notwithstanding, strength training is where a supreme connection can be made between mind and body – between spirit and flesh. Though good form may be visible to, and appreciated by an onlooker, good form in strength training takes place first on the inside.

The Singular Repetition: A Timeless Place

An arm is extended and retracted. A leg is raised and lowered again. A torso turned and returned. Through all if it there can be purity if the mind chooses purity. It can be heavy and not require momentum. It can be intense and not require a breach of form. It can be productive and still be perfect.

A connection is first made – a realization that the weight moves up or down only when the mind and the body reciprocate with one another to achieve this objective. The objective is to challenge the body and the mind, simultaneously, to direct heavy objects despite gravity. As the mind and body intermingle to achieve this, the world beyond is minimized.

The singular repetition of a strength exercise, executed in proper form, through a complete range of motion, dialed into with absolute concentration, is as cleansing to me as a deep breath of fresh air. For that one moment, that one repetition, I am alone in a perfect state that transcends time. I am not even aware that there is a world beyond my repetition, let alone beyond my workout.

When the fatigue from the set – from the cumulative effect of the perfect repetitions allows the weight to feel so heavy that perfection gives way to momentum, I will break from my trance as cleanly as the break between two Saltine crackers and stop the lift. I will then regroup, catch my breath, sip some water and begin again.

Client and workout partner, Carrie, exhibits a level of perfection with her strength training that is good as good gets. And the results are clear…

The Choices: A Brief Seminar On Momentum-Free Execution of Strength Movements

1) No weight selected on a machine, barbell, or dumbbell ever be so heavy that perfect form could be not be attained for the desired number of repetitions. A body doesn’t know how heavy a weight is. It only knows how heavy a weight feels.

2) Concentric: With weight in hands, or at the ends of the feet, one begins a slow raising of the weights. This lifting phase of the exercise (when the weight in whatever medium is headed upward toward the ceiling) should take 3-4 seconds. Regardless of the exercise or apparatus, whenever a weight is rising toward the ceiling, one should exhale slowly through the mouth as the weight rises.

3) Pause: When the weight is at its highest point away from the floor, that muscular contraction should be held a moment. An extra breath or two should be taken between each completed repetition. This increased oxygenation will allow the set to be sustained longer.

4) Eccentric: The weight is slowly returned to its starting position. This phase should take 5-6 seconds. One should breathe in slowly while the weight is being lowered.

5) Pause: When the weight is at its lowest point, the extension should be held for a moment with the muscles involved fully stretched yet still engaged, then returned upward.

6) Going excessively heavy will not make you stronger. Cheating your form won’t make your muscles any larger and certainly not any shapelier. Taking away from the purity of the exercise is to take away from the purity of the functional and the aesthetic effects of strength training.

The Perfection Connection

Moving weights perfectly, slowly through a complete range of motion will add value to your human experience. Choosing perfection in strength training will not only help you look better, but it will make you stronger where it matters most; outside the gym in this ongoing challenge we call everyday life. Whether one is carrying a basket of laundry across a room or a bucket of tools across their property, a better outcome awaits from the pursuit and the practice of the perfect repetition.

It is though, the mental clarity I gain from this age old form of body-prayer, which keeps me coming back – perfect repetition after perfect repetition. Be well. rc

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Please check back in two weeks to see what happens when I push the “stop” button on the blender in my head… Oh, and to learn more about Carrie’s other creative outlet, please visit www.babyasart.com

Clean Water Is Hard To Find…

Posted by Roy Cohen in 1 and tagged with Adaptation, Attitude, Benefit, Change, Discipline, Effort, Expectations, Faith, Growth, Guilt, Ideas, Memes, Personal Responsibility, Philosophy, Reflection, Ritual, Royisms, Self-Loathing, Venting Middle-Aged Fitness Trainer Who Sometimes Needs A Drink November 10, 2012

Take a glass of clean water. Put it beside a glass of dirty water. Take a spoonful from the glass of dirty water and stir it in to the clean water. In an instant you have two glasses of dirty water.

Start over again with a glass of clean water and a glass of dirty water. Now, take a spoonful of the clean water and stir it into the dirty water. The dirty water remains dirty – the clean water has not changed anything.

If people were glasses of water, nobody would look like this…

In our social environments; the workplace, schools, social groups, religious groups, and even fitness groups there will always be people with good intentions and those with lesser intentions. Bad habits spread more easily than good habits. But we’re not glasses of water, we’re social beings capable of change. Thus, we should never quit trying to spread our good habits, and we should always strive to be resistant to poor habits. Indeed. I hope I’m taking notes…

Be well. rc

Flossoccoli…

Posted by Roy Cohen in 1 and tagged with and came up with this..., couldn't sleep, I was f'cking bored at 4am November 5, 2012

GMOs in our food system have been a hot button issue in many circles lately including, science, politics, fitness and nutrition. Those for and those against GMOs, seem evenly divided in the arenas of science and politics. In fitness and nutrition however, most everyone I know is against allowing GMOs into our food system. Today, as a fitness trainer, I would like to state for the record my full support the inclusion of GMOs in our food system.

You see, I eat broccoli and spinach every single day – often several times per day. Of course the broccoli and spinach get caught in my teeth. Being health minded I floss those particles out as quickly as I can to avoid a buildup of bacteria. However, I can’t always find a floss pick as quickly as I need to use one, and I often don’t have time in-between my training sessions to hunt down a floss pick. Soon the next client walks in and I’m suddenly stuck in my next training session, and all I can think about is the broccoli caught between my teeth, and not the client. The client soon realizes this, and can tell I’m not at the top of my game.

I fear that if this happens enough, I might lose clients over this — my thinking of floss picks rather than focusing on them. I am therefore in full support of science catching up with this potential career threatening problem in my life and, creating a genetically modified broccoli; flossoccoli. Flossoccoli will provide me with both good nutrition to support my body, and immediate access to an important tool to aid in my dental hygiene. And don’t you dare tell me you thought of it first…

Flossoccoli; for good nutrition combined with quick dental heigene…

Happy Election Day! Be well. rc

A Room Full Of Words…

Posted by Roy Cohen in 1 and tagged with Adaptation, Almost nothing to do with fitness, Attitude, Benefit, Conversations, Death And Dying, Discipline, Disease, Eating, Effort, Essays, Exercise, Expectations, Friendship, Growth, Ideas, Living In The Modern World, Personal Responsibility, Perspective, Philosophy, Reflection, Ritual, Routines and Framework, Rules, Tips, Venting Middle-aged Fitness Trainer Who No Longer Needs A Drink October 25, 2012

The Mix

As a fitness trainer I’m fortunate to have such a variety of clients in my current rotation. On a given week I will work on balance and flexibility with some silver haired folks. I will aid clients my age who are interested in maximizing their functional fitness, that they live more active and more productive lives. I will work with weight-loss clients who are trying to improve their overall health, appearance and confidence. I will also work with a few prep athletes helping them with their strength and conditioning, and enabling them to perform better and stay injury free in their respective sports.

With such a variety in clients in a week’s time, my studio walls will also be witness to a variety of personalities and conversations. The personalities are often strong, the conversations rarely dull, and I am richer for the discourse. It works best when the client can talk and exercise at the same time, or restrict the conversation to the short breaks I allow in-between sets. If the workout begins to take a back seat to the conversation, I just tap a bench with my finger tip, point to a weight, or look in the direction of a yoga mat and without interrupting the client, they will know to continue the workout. They are all well-oiled machines.

Different Genders, Different Subjects

There are many subjects which get discussed in my studio each day. Most men like to talk about seasonal sports. As a sports fan I enjoy and look forward to these conversations. I can actively contribute to them, even if I might disagree with the client’s stance or allegiance to a player or team. Of all the sports conversations, football and golf tend to dominate. That works for me since they are my two favorite sports. Once football season is over, some sessions go completely silent for a while. It’s like a black hole exists, post-football, where there is just nothing to talk about. Then, a mass killing will take place somewhere, a tornado will toss a mid-western town down the highway a bit, or some senator will bag a 19 year old girl while his wife is in the next room, and the conversations start up again.

When football season is over Bill, age 69, and I have less to talk about. Then, I just mention Obama, and he pushes 135 pounds around in perfect form like it’s nothing…

Most women like to discuss shopping. When the subject of shopping comes up, I’m more an active listener than participant. Often times when shopping is discussed, I make lots of mental notes. However, if the subject of shopping goes on too long, I listen to my client like my dog listens to me; I pretend to pay attention, but am more interested in the fly orbiting the half eaten orange on the other side of the room. Still, I learn a lot during shopping discussions with my female clients, in a getting to know the enemy kind of way.

Food And Cancer

Of all the subjects which get discussed each week in my studio, two lead the way; food and cancer.

Cancer is discussed because it’s everywhere, all the time, and directly or indirectly affects everybody. These are rarely bright conversations. Discussing the cancer of friends, loved ones, and even the clients themselves can be heavy and a bit draining. The positive aspect I try to retrieve from such conversations is to just be grateful for my own health and abilities on a given day.

Countless conversations of cancer have laid a solid groundwork in my psyche to help me prepare me for some variation of cancer which might afflict me some day. Maybe it’s wrong to go through life with a it’s not a matter of if, but a matter of when attitude. However, daily discussions of cancer with clients through the years have placed me well into that state of thinking.

I find it interesting that whether they are 15 years old, or 89, all of my clients have brought up the subject of cancer at one time or another – all of them.

Food is the other topic which serves to nourish my day in conversation. Though I make my living touting a healthy lifestyle, not all food discussions in my studio are about broccoli, grass-fed beef, and keeping processed foods minimal. Yes, there is much discussed about healthy recipes, resources, tools, and motivation to eat well, and my studio is a great redistribution center for all healthy eating information. There is much also much spoken of cheat days, where the best pizza places are, decadent desserts, and beyond.

In conversations of eating, I am a contributor to the healthy as well as the not-so-healthy of it all. I sometimes feel myself cringe when I recommend Bronx Pizza to a weight-loss client, but that doesn’t stop me from doing it – Bronx Pizza is the bomb! Moderation, I remind them, moderation. Whether it’s on healthy eating, or the best dessert and martini combination in San Diego, food gets discussed literally ever hour in my studio.

I find it interesting that whether they are 15 years old, or 89, all of my clients have brought up the subject of food at one time or another – both healthy foods, and the not-so-healthy.

Though they gather more attention than all other topics combined, food and cancer are rarely spoken of together, or from the same root. There is probably a connection there somewhere, and I may explore that connection in a future essay.

Conversations Over Crunches Redux

I once had a rule that no words be spoken in my gym unless they related to the workout itself; that if one is speaking, one can’t give supreme effort in an exercise, and I was all about supreme effort by my clients. I also had a rule about friendship with clients, or a lack thereof. As my client base has changed through the years, those rules have also changed, and conversation has become central to the experience.

I am blessed and wiser for these conversations over crunches. Since I still like to see strong effort by my clients, if the talking ever does get out of hand, I just increase the weights they are using and render them unable to speak. It’s good to be king. Be well. rc

Some Mixed Thoughts On Larger Purpose, Food Technology, Prejudice, And Change…

Posted by Roy Cohen in 1 and tagged with Adaptation, Americanness, Change, Disease, Essays, Expectations, Faith, Family, Food, Getting Hoodwinked, Growth, History, Ideas, Living In The Modern World, Personal Responsibility, Philosophy, Reflection, Ritual, Science, Society, Technology, Trends, Venting Middle-aged Fitness Trainer Who Needs A Drink October 14, 2012

Nothing new this week. I’ll have something fresh in 2 weeks. I wrote the essay below over two years ago. Little has changed in the collective awareness we have of our food system since I wrote this — and little has changed in the system itself, or how we use it. Me thinks the train has left the station and the 300,000,000 drivers of the train don’t realize they are the drivers…

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Larger Purpose; Time’s Arrow Slowing Down

Americans are less healthy, less fit, and less discriminating in the choices which comprise our physicality than ever. We had seen this coming for decades, and we let it in anyway – because letting it in required less work than keeping it out. And there’s this; the National Institute for Health now suggests an alarming trend that could manifest within a few decades. Unless serious efforts are met to combat the increasing rate of childhood obesity, for the first time in American history, children born in subsequent decades will have a shorter lifespan than their parents.

It is suggested by critical thinkers like Michael Pollan, and others like him, that we should work our way toward the past, in hope that we change our future to become a healthier food-nation. Enter, Michael Pollan’s open letter to President Obama.

Inspiring but unrealistic…?

However, from historic human social and technical trends, I see little which has happened in the past to suggest these proposed changes of national bad habits could have a wide-spread effect on the future. I suggest using the non-wellness related books of Charles S. Maier (Among Empires), Jared Diamond (Collapse), and Andrew J. Bacevich (The Limits Of Power) to further examine the ultimate wellness concern; the ability of a society to identify what needs to be changed, and the willingness of its people to insist on making those changes.

These works of social and political scholarship attempt to demonstrate that human societies are often capable of, but very often unwilling, to learn from their mistakes. Thus, what we try to think of as advancements, are often just highly devised concessions to a more dangerous road, but one which is more easily traveled. Increasingly, I am convinced the waters of our advanced food system, and the obesity culture it has created, flow too fast and too wide to be slowed down, let alone altered or reversed.

Perhaps a less fit, less healthy food-culture is just our social and evolutionary destiny – our Manifat Destiny. And the white elephant in the room might actually be 300 million white elephants, each wondering what went wrong, and why everyone else is so heavy – and what time the drive-thru on the way home from work closes.

Homo-big-gulpus…

Advancement: It Seemed Like A Good Idea At The Time

Modernity is a playground for the unintended consequences of our advanced food system. Billions of people have contributed to the advancements of our food culture in the past 10,000 years, and billions more have been its victim. Hunters, gatherers, herders, farmers, and then scientists, engineers, transportation specialists, nutritionists, and consumers have all played a part in paving the road on which we now roll. We have all benefitted and suffered from these advancements, as we will continue to benefit and suffer from them.

Seemed like a good idea at the time. I mean to us, not to them…

Despite that, this is where we are in our food culture, there is an increasing prejudice from a few toward the many who consume highly processed foods, as well those who have helped to create these products. I am reminded of my father who wants to move to a new assisted living center; one with fewer old people in it. That scenario seems both contrarian, and prejudiced.

There are now volumes of books available distilling all the political and economic reasons – the contributing factors of how our food system has evolved into its current state. Yet there is little credence given to the concept that; it all might have seemed like a good idea at the time… Be it Diet Coke, Snack Well cookies, or single-serving ravioli in a can, we have often embraced these advancements at their introduction, as meeting the needs of changing human, social, and economic conditions. But we learn and quickly forget, again and again, that from such good ideas, sometimes comes a whole lot of not-so-good. It seems the unintended consequences of advancement, might tend to stifle… advancement? Or, humanity itself is God’s own Ponzi scheme.

Concepts And Realism

Though the notion of turning back our food system one hundred years seems like an enticing idea on the surface (to me it is a supreme idea), what Mr. Pollan and others like him amay not be accounting for is a lack of willingness on the part of many people to make those necessary changes – individuals and leaders alike. That is, people can be informed of what needs to be changed and of how those changes can help us, but history shows we’re not very good listeners. Our best shot at success with the food system may just be to keep on pumping those extra B vitamins into those Ho-Ho’s, and to keep trying to perfect protein infused Gummy Bears and pork rinds.

History offers us few good examples of us reversing strong social and technical trends. We may abandon some social and technical trends in favor of others once we realize they are not working well for us, but we tend to not reverse anything. Humans are more the walking away type. It is frequently proven that the next positive advancement in the food system is just as laden with unintended consequences as the advancement we had just abandoned. It’s official; I have no answers, only questions, and a heart full of concern. Be well. rc

I end this diatribe with 2 questions from which I would appreciate your responses to:

1) Do you believe that our food system will truly be in a better state in 10 years than it is today?

2) Will this column affect how you think about our food system?

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Please check back in 2 weeks to see what happens when I push the “stop” button on the blender in my head…

Child In The Window

Posted by Roy Cohen in 1 and tagged with Adaptation, Almost nothing to do with fitness, Dying in a firey plane crash, Essays, Flying, Living In The Modern World, Perspective, Reflection, Ritual, Thinking, Truth, Venting Middle-aged Fitness Trainer Who No Longer Needs A Drink October 3, 2012

Nothing to do with fitness this week. Enjoy a few thoughts from my personal journal. Please check back in two weeks. Perhaps then I will have something to say about fitness.

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I am fascinated by flying. It seems I fly somewhere every few months. Usually I fly to coastal parts north, to play. I fly to Chicago to visit my daughter 3-4 times per year. I fly to Colorado or to the mid-west to visit with friends. I love to fly. In fact, I always take great care to secure a window seat when I fly – be it in the daytime or even at night. An aisle or middle seat, for me, even on the shortest of journeys, is an emotional kick in the stomach. A window seat is a gift that never goes unappreciated by my soul.

Recently I flew from southern California to Athens, Greece and stared out the window for a great majority of the 16 hour flight. I rarely sleep when I fly, even during 16 hours of flying. I am just compelled to keep my eyes fixed to the window with wide wonder. Even if I see only clouds or darkness, I stare like a child to whatever might be beyond them. When it’s clear, I’m always in awe of the planet below and the heavens above. As a being, I feel exceptional to be in such proximity of the upper and the lower Earth.

37,000 feet over the Atlantic ocean enroute to Athens…

It’s not feeling exceptional that most heightens me when I fly. When I fly I am stirred by the honesty within. It’s an honesty that I never feel when I’m on the ground. Whether it’s well founded or not, my media fed perception of the risks involved with flying are always at the surface when I fly. As the wheels of an aircraft lock into place beneath me after takeoff, I am nervous. Thoughts race through my mind of crashing, of dying, of flames, fears, screams, of my family, my finances, and even of my own funeral. I always wonder as the plane leaves or approaches the runway, if I don’t make it, will anyone show up to morn my absence…?

Eventually, with enough time and air behind me, confidence builds and these morbid thoughts taper and give way to a kind of honesty I don’t experience on the ground. I feel so pure looking to the earth and to the sky from a single vantage point – as if my long lost innocence has been given back to me to wear for just a few hours. It’s during these times when I am best able to put my life in perspective. To see the earth from this view and be so close to the sky – simultaneously, is to also see my future in equal portion with my past. The chaos of life, from 37,000 feet, doesn’t seem so chaotic. It all makes sense to me there.

At altitude, my thoughts are fresh, more pure, and seem valid even to myself. Nothing I consider, ponder, or write when I fly seems forced or contrived. There’s no false inspiration there. I simply am who I am, on my way to that place. I once read a theory that the moments after an orgasm are the most honest moments of a person’s life. Though they may be the sleepiest moments of my life, they are not the most honest. The most honest moments I have ever experienced are when I’m halfway between up and down, and headed to over there.

Some soul searching, post Mancation, 30,000 feet over Alamosa, CO…

I once even began flying lessons, with the scarce intention that I might someday fly as a career. However, impending fatherhood and flying lessons were at different ends of the financial spectrum so my flying lessons were short lived. I remember though, the very first time I took off in a Cessna 152. As pulled back on the yoke and gently allowed the plane to leave the runway, I felt two separate and distinct things – simultaneously. One thought was,

Oh my god, I’m flying, I can’t believe I’m flying an airplane.

The other was,

Holy shit, I’m going to die.

In my head, a more polarized crux of emotions had never existed. I felt pure joy, and pure fear, all at once. Maybe that’s where my airborne honesty comes from. Caught between sky and land, between fear and joy, what choice do I have but to be honest…? Maybe that’s why I love to fly.

In the interest of full disclosure, this essay was written at night, from seat 6A, on a Southwest Airlines flight from Chicago to San Diego. I had to stop writing multiple times, just to stare at the lights below and the stars above. Be well. rc

Please check back in two weeks to see what happens when I push the “stop” on the blender in my head.

The Strength To Quit…

Posted by Roy Cohen in 1 and tagged with Adaptation, Addiction, Attitude, Benefit, Change, Discipline, Effort, Essays, Exercise, Expectations, Growth, Guilt, Personal Responsibility, Perspective, Philosophy, Ritual, Routines and Framework, Rules, Skipping Workouts, Strength, Tips, Venting Middle-aged Fitness Trainer Who No Longer Needs A Drink September 20, 2012

Not Feelin’ It

I have walked out of the weightroom many times, scarcely after my workout had just begun. If I’m just not feelin’ it, I would rather not risk injury or waste the time if my instincts tell me that the same workout done 24 hours later would be more fruitful. I believe this is a good way to be in the gym; that in the economy of fitness, and to get the most from a strength workout, one needs to be well dialed in. That internal discourse though, has to be honest. There’s a fine line between not feelin’ it, and just not wanting to do the work on a given day. I’ve never had any problem identifying that line and I have never used not feelin’ it as a false excuse to avoid the work of the weightroom.

There are just those occasions when I have done one, maybe two sets of my first chosen movement, and I just know it’s not going to happen on that day. When this happens I might take a step outside, take a few deep breaths, or maybe even slap myself in the face a couple of times to force a release of adrenalin. Sometimes this is all I need to ignite the flame. Most times though, when the exercise is attempted after said break, there is no spark, only an immediate confirmation of not feelin’ it. Without grumbling, I exit the weightroom and set my sights on tomorrow. Invariably, the same workout taken on the following day will be more in synch, more productive, and offer me much more of what I seek from my battles with gravity.

When Workouts Go Bad

There are many factors which can limit my ability to dial into a strength workout; poor sleep, poor eating, and stress chief among them. Usually it’s some combination of these things that conspire to thwart a workout. When this happened in my youth, I would John Wayne my way through those not feelin’ it days and force a workout. Of course those workouts were always unproductive and left me feeling worse than when I started for their lack of productivity. I would leave the gym pissed off, and for the rest of the day I could go from zero to son of a bitch in less than a second. And like an Altzhiemer’s patient, the next time I wasn’t feelin’ it in the gym, I would John Wayne my way through yet another crappy workout for another crappy result – and so it went for about 20 years.

Growing Up Slowly

Obviously a good workout is better than a bad workout. It only took me two decades though, to realize that no workout is better than a bad workout.

I strength train for many reasons: to look good, to be strong, as a stress release, and for the countless health benefits. Above all else though, I strength train to feel good – walking into the weightroom recreates me on a daily basis. I always leave the weightroom feeling fresh – feeling much better than I do entering it, except on those days when I’m not feelin’ it. Experiencing a bad workout will just make a good day bad, and a bad day worse. Skipping a workout when I’m not feelin’ it has become my only option.

If you are one who John Waynes it through those not feelin’ it days, I can assure you that your bench press will not suffer, your arms won’t shrink, and you won’t get sucked into a vortex that will strip you of all your gains if you postpone a workout 24 hours, or even 48. You will actually serve your cause better, and produce better meat.

We create monsters in our heads about missing exercise, men more than women in my experience. Somehow a missed workout seems like the end of the world – that’s part of the addictive nature of exercise. Life happens; work, family, and even those not feelin’ it days. There’s no right or wrong here, this is only my perspective; the philosophy of a man whose workout has been supremely important to him for over 35 years. I don’t shed a tear about missing a workout these days, especially on my not feelin’ it days. I simply look for something else to channel my energies into which requires less of me.

A wise person once said to me, regarding the weightroom,

“If your instincts tell you not to do it, don’t do it. If your instincts tell you that it’s okay, then do it like hell!”

Scott Rupert will probably never read this – I haven’t seen him since I was 16 years old. But that sentence still resonates all these years later. Be well. rc

Ruck Funning!

Posted by Roy Cohen in 1 and tagged with Fuck Running September 12, 2012

This is Part III of my intermittent series on my dysfunctional relationship with running. Part IV may show up in a few weeks or never, depending whether running and I can work out or differences. You can read Parts I and II by clicking here.

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Walking And Watching

The bed and breakfast my daughter and I rented on Mykonos was buried under seven layers of charming. It was a located a couple miles above town, atop a hill covered with dry grass. The red and white cottage offered a birds-eye view of the town and the coastline below. It was a place and a scene that transcended time, as well as the chaos of my otherwise scattered life. I would be at peace there, if only for a short time. Upon checking in, prior to going out for the evening, my daughter and I chose to lay back for an hour or so and enjoy a little air conditioning and some Greek television. Later, as she prepared for first our evening out, I took a walk to explore possible running routes for the morning, and to take in the setting sun, beyond the distant edge of the Aegean Sea.

Mykonos? I say, MykoYES!

We walked slowly down a 2-mile hill into town, as we took in the quaint surroundings. The road was lined with lots of scooters, undersized cars, and white cottages trimmed in blue or red. In town, we enjoyed a traditional Greek dinner on a patio table just a few feet off the water. We must have spent two hours eating, talking, and doing a great deal of people watching. After dinner we took our people watching on the road. We walked through town slowly, stopping in shops and markets sparingly. Mostly, we just walked, conversed, and took in the vibe of a Mykonos evening. Eventually we walked back uphill to the cottage, and put the day to rest.

What Goes Down Must Come Up

I woke early while my daughter slept in. I decided I would run into town and along the coast with no specific distance or time in mind – I would just let the scenery pull me along, hoping to enjoy another run as I had in Athens several days before. Running down the hill into town I was mesmerized and inspired by the view. My run along the flat coastline was just as inspired. I felt strong. I stayed on the water’s edge with no idea of time or distance. I just ran at a steady pace. I knew eventually I would have to turn and head inland and back up the hill to wake my daughter and share breakfast.

As I turned, I looked up to face the hill I had run down. Shit. Apparently I never gave much thought to the return trip. This 2-mile monster of a hill was easily a 20% grade, but I had no option, so I relied on faith. When I hit the hill I adjusted my pace. It was slightly more than a shuffle, but less than a run. Within a few minutes I realized that I wasn’t going to die, so I increased my pace slightly. After a few more minutes I increased it again. What was going on here? I had slept and eaten well all week, and had also run consistently. Perhaps I had finally earned my way in to the title of, runner.

From atop said Monster Hill…

When I arrived at the cottage I took only a few minutes to cool down, stretch, and towel off. This might have been the best run of my life. No, this was the best run of my life. I was on Mykonos, I was having a wonderful time with my daughter, and I just completed the best run of my life. I was on top of the world. Now it was time to walk back down the same hill I had just conquered, and enjoy breakfast in town with my daughter. All the way down the hill I looked at the homes, scooters, and golf carts that I passed on the way up, and acknowledged them as if they were old friends. I loved this hill.

Our view from breakfast…

The Broken Engagement

I didn’t run again until we were back in Athens. When I did run, I returned to the scene of my prior best run. I was seeking continued inspiration. Running is a fickle girl. Or perhaps my expectations of her are too high. That happens in relationships. Back at the Greek stadium though, I had returned to my usual running self; able and committed, but not necessarily engaged or inspired – just going through the motions. For the first time I began to rethink said engagement to said fickle girl. I actually contemplated giving up running altogether. The illusive runner’s high was only occasional in this relationship. I mean, why would I stay in any relationship that would only bring me occasional joy…? But I’m not a quitter either. I gave my commitment to running, and I was prepared to continue. In coming weeks though, it became clear we were in need of counseling. To be continued…

Be well. rc…

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Please check back in 2 weeks to see what happens when I push the “stop” button on the blender in my head. Oh, and there’s this from Dog Trumpet, enjoy…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kWayJqbRvmk&feature=relmfu

Been; gone too long…

Posted by Roy Cohen in 1 and tagged with Almost nothing to do with fitness, Death, Essays, Faith, Family, Mindfulness, Music, Physical Culture, Reflection, Venting Middle-aged Fitness Trainer Who Needs A Drink August 19, 2012

Originally written in August of 2010. Wishing you all peace this day…. ________________________________________________

Been; Gone Too Long

My life has been shaped almost exclusively by physical culture and by music. Often these two paths intersect, but rarely do they weave together. Physical culture and music are both deeply rooted in passion. I will suggest that people who might have an interest in both, often choose one over the other since passion can rarely be divided. Although I love music very much, when I felt I had to choose between the vintage Gretsch drum kit in my childhood basement, and the weight-set on the other side of the room, the weight-set won and my passion had an outlet that has served me far better than those drums would have.

Still, I greatly admire music and musicians; songwriters in particular. In an inverse way, music has influenced my perspective on physical culture more than physical culture itself has. Back in the 1970s and 80s while many of my bodybuilding friends were influenced by other bodybuilders, my workout life was more influenced by song lyrics, intensity in music, as well as the writers, pickers, drummers, and bass players who brought those songs to life. Earlier this week we lost one – a bass player that is. Michael Been of the band, The Call died of a heart-attack while mixing and engineering the sound for a concert of his son’s band, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club.

Though The Call is known more as an 80’s keyboard kind of band, Michael Been’s lyrics were as important to me as oxygen and water, and when I needed them most. Been’s songs were an undiscovered gold mine of hope for me. Been managed to write the Golden Rule into almost every song, yet they were seamlessly non-preachy. His lyrics have both reflected, and influenced my life in ways which have often seemed divine to me – literally.

During the years after my divorce, I would of often find myself sitting by the ocean’s edge and reading the printed lyrics of Been’s songs as I listened to them simultaneously on my MP3 player. It was a church with plenty of hope and no expectations. I was repeatedly astonished at how much richness lay beneath the surface of what appeared to be simple pop songs. I often wondered if he was writing to me, about me, to god, about god, and how he could have known both god and I so well.

In my post-divorce years Been’s lyrics taught me mindfulness above all else; a much needed lesson for me at that time. The Call was never classified as Christian band. This was good since I was never classified as a Christian listener. Still, when one seeks to extract wisdom from lyrics, there are obvious themes relating to the good side of the Christian faith – the side that suggests that though we may often feel all is lost, there is hope if we are simply good to people.

Been was 60 years old when he died.

There are many things which sadden me about Been’s death. One is that I have found no report of his death from any major news source. A sad reminder that a man who had so much to offer the world, was largely unknown by it. Unfortunately The Call’s best work is not available on iTunes, and only scarcely available on youtube in the form of some choppy videos with bad sound.

If you don’t know The Call, I suggest buying the CDs Red Moon, Let The Day Begin, Modern Romans, and Been’s solo album, On The Verge Of A Nervous Breakthrough. Through his body of work one can’t help but appreciate the evolution of this man’s heart and soul through the decades.

If I could work in Santa Clause time this evening I would crawl down every chimney in America with a copy of Red Moon, that the nation might be a better place for all the wisdom in its content. This time two years ago it was David Foster Wallace. This week it was Michael Been. The two most influential persons in my adult life are now gone. Mark Cohen, you are number three; please take care of yourself. Be well. rc

Partners, Clocks, Growing, And Growing…

Posted by Roy Cohen in 1 and tagged with Adaptation, Attitude, Benefit, Change, Discipline, Effort, Essays, Exercise, Expectations, Fuck, Growth, it's 4am and this guy wants to workout...?, Leaving My Comfort Zone, Living In The Modern World, Perspective, Priorities, Ritual, Routines and Framework, The future, Venting Middle-aged Fitness Trainer Who No Longer Needs A Drink, Workout Partners July 29, 2012

Training Partner: One And Done

In my mid to late teens I had just one training partner, Mike. Mike and I were the Arnold and Franco of our gym – at least in our minds. In our early bodybuilding days, we trained, we ate, and we caroused as though we were headed toward the top of the world. It isn’t often that youthful ambition and youthful arrogance combine for anything good, but with Mike and me it worked – mostly. Through my formative gym years, Mike pushed me to fulfill my potential and maximize my efforts in the gym, and I hope I did the same for him.

Mike and I worked out heavy and aggressively, but our workouts were always fun. Despite the serious nature of our intent, there were always laughter, unspoken communication, and the sense that we were exactly where we were supposed to be, doing exactly what we were supposed to be doing. By our early 20’s though, Mike and I went our separate ways; me to the US Coast Guard, he to Santa Monica to pursue some combination of education and bodybuilding at the next level.

Due to my time at sea, my workouts while in the Coast Guard where intermittent at best and I lost a great deal of ground. When not at sea, I’d workout alone at the local Seabee base, but there was nothing special about those sessions. My workouts were hard and heavy as they were with Mike, but I got in, got out, and gone on with my life. If my workouts at the Seabee base lacked the camaraderie that they had with Mike, at least they were efficient. Then I would be at sea for another month and lose it all. After my discharge from the Coast Guard I headed home to Colorado and began the search for a new training partner, in pursuit of new gains – my foolish bodybuilding dreams still weren’t dead.

That search for a new partner took me through several gyms, several partners, and was short lived. No partner I attempted to workout with shared my intensity or my attention to the details of the workout the way that Mike had. Then one day a wise man once told me, “The best training partner you’ll ever have is the clock on the wall”. Working out alone would become my method for the next 25 years.

Women And Clocks: How They Have Influenced Me

The clock and I trained well together. Just like at the Seabee base it was get in, got out, get on with my life. Once I began my go-it-alone protocol, I just didn’t want to be bothered by extra flesh in my vicinity. There were two occasions though, when I did extended stints in the gym with a couple of talented bodybuilders, one male, and one female. That comparison, between the hardcore male and the hardcore female workout psyche, has influenced my training style as much as anything else.

My workouts with my female partner were just as intense as with any male partner I ever trained with, but the workouts were also elegant. Elegant in the sense that there was no ego, and a whole lot of grace. They were an expression of creativity. Jackie taught me to be stone-faced in the final reps of any set. Not to squander energy, but to utilize it. She also taught me to execute my reps with a slow, seamless fluidity – more like a dance than a lift. When she and I parted ways I found myself immediately replicating her style of training which was no-nonsense, clock-based, highly focused, and to use an oxymoron, an intensely meditative style of training. Through training with her I learned to connect with my body through every repetition, and for 20 years the pursuit of the perfect singular repetition has been my thesis – or my shtick as it were.

Myles Down The Road

Tomorrow morning I’ll begin 4am workouts with my first male workout partner in 20 years. Myles comes from a powerlifting background. Last year he changed up his workout style in favor of more fitness and less bodyweight. Having small children will do that to you. Myles dropped about 60 pounds, switched to a no-nonsense approach with the weights, incorporated regular (hard) cardio into his life, and is now contemplating running his first marathon.

Last year, at his request, I took Myles through a series of mixed workouts. I remember asking him what he thought he could learn from me. He was just looking for a changeup, so I served it up to him; lots of supersetting, some plyo, lots of sprints – put down the candy. Seeing his discipline and the changes that discipline lead to over the past year has been inspiring – I don’t inspire easily. I think I have as much to learn from Myles as he does me. It’s been a long time since I have left my comfort level and opened my ears and eyes to be pushed by another. This one’s a no-brainer.

I need it now. It’s apparent to anyone who’s seen me lately that I’ve let my physique slip a bit in the last couple of years – too much alcohol and too little sleep can break a body down. My best years aren’t behind me yet. For an insomniac, the idea of doing squats and sprints at 4am is definitely leaving my comfort level. That I have given him permission to drag me out of bed if I’m still sleeping when he gets here is a commitment I take very seriously.

I probably won’t be writing about this again for a while – until we’ve put a few months behind us. I will be taking pictures along the way though, and if the progress is good, I’ll post the bad, ugly, and the good of it all – in that order. Be well. rc

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Please check back in two weeks to see what happens when I push the “stop” on the blender in my head. Oh, and there’s this from the V-Roys, enjoy…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ev6Lc5Kdykg&feature=context-gfa

Run And Done…

Posted by Roy Cohen in 1 and tagged with Adaptation, Athens, Attitude, Effort, Essays, Exercise, Exercise And Spirituality, Exercise Outside, Expectations, Pangrati, Perspective, Philosophy, Ritual, Routines and Framework, Runner's High, Running, Travel, Venting Middle-Aged Fitness Trainer Who Sometimes Needs A Drink July 7, 2012

This is Part II of my intermittent series on running. Part III may be in several weeks, or not for several months, we shall see.

I am currently on vacation in Colorado and Nebraska. Please check back in early August. Thank you.

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Status Slow

Five years into becoming a regular runner, running is no longer a struggle for my body or my mind – but it’s not a joy either, it’s just something I do. I admit that I do just enough to get by with my running, never seeking to improve. The three of us; my mind, my body, and the road coexist in the same way that compatible roommates coexist. There’s no love, but no animosity either. We’re just near each other at times, and respectful to one another when we’re engaged. When we’re away from each other, we don’t think too much about it. It’s a clinical collaboration with little expression nor celebration. By anyone’s definition, it’s just another marriage…

Her Vocation, My Vacation

My daughter, an aspiring archeologist, chose to spend time this year studying in Athens, Greece. Makes sense – they have a lot of old things there which require study. Shortly after her arrival in Athens, I decided I would travel there toward the end of her academic year, to exploit her knowledge and spend time allowing her to guide me through all which she had been studying. Of that, she did an excellent job and I remain grateful for such a comprehensive tour.

I had recently completed the book, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running. In this book, the author writes briefly about his experience running in Athens. Away from my gym and my bike, and with my inherent requirement for daily action, I decided ahead of time that each morning during my visit, I would run the streets of Athens – mixing in some push-ups and pull-ups when I could. This would be enough, I thought, to satisfy my craving for physicality.

Base Of Operations

I had rented an apartment in Athens to use as a base of operations for my visit with my daughter. The apartment was located in the district of Pangrati, a charming community known for its markets, tavernas, and central location to all the history which transpired a few thousand years back. Pangrati is also home to the Panathinaiko stadium. In fact, the apartment I rented was located directly behind this historic stadium. The running track at Panathinaiko stadium, my daughter explained to me, is open to the public from 6:00am – 10:00pm. My daily fitness requirement now had a timely and proximate outlet, and I would never have to set foot on the treacherous streets of Athens.

I took my first run at Panathinaiko stadium on my second morning in Athens. Like all my runs, I pushed only as hard as I needed to – enough to feel like I was working, but there was no runner’s high. Prior to the run I did some push-ups and pull-ups on a fitness course set up at the top of the stadium. This, I decided, would be my protocol while visiting my daughter.

Something unusual happened though, during my third morning run in Athens; I didn’t want the run it to be over the way I usually do as my end distance approached. Partially inspired by the stadium I suppose, and partially due to my recent consistency with running, I began to feel strong on mile number three. I began running faster, stronger, and I finally began to feel that floating sensation described in Part I of this series, 30 years after seeing the movie, The Jericho Mile. I chose to go an extra mile, then two.

After my run I did another half-dozen sets of pull-ups and push-ups. Then, leaving the stadium feeling completely energized, I sprinted along the straightaway connecting the stadium with my apartment. The runner’s high had finally arrived in my psyche. I arrived back at the apartment to enjoy coffee on the patio and a breakfast of fresh green beans and turkey slices drizzled with olive oil and a dash of pepper. I felt like another god in the pantheon; Royeclese, god of running.

Panathinaiko stadium was the last place on Earth I expected to enjoy a morning run. In truth, I had never expected to enjoy a morning run anywhere. My morning run – any run, has always been something I just tolerated. However, in this famous stadium – hallowed ground where athletic history has been made and celebrated, in the shadow of the Acropolis and adjacent to the Agora, I would feel the joy of running for the very first time.

The following morning I woke, and eagerly headed to the stadium to duplicate my first runner’s high. Nope. Not happening. I didn’t struggle to run, but my three miles was completed with no joy, and no self-imposed extra credit at the end. It was run and done, as usual. Running and I once again were simply coexisting. ‘Sniff.

The next day my daughter and I were off to the island of Mykonos. What kind of running might I find there…? Check back in a few weeks and see if there is more to this story there… Be well. rc

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I am currently on vacation in Colorado and Nebraska. Please check back in early August to see what happens when I push the “stop” button on the blender in my head. Oh, and there is this from Colin Hay, enjoy…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tVL1aIgq3Kc&feature=related

Unfinished Business

Posted by Roy Cohen in 1 and tagged with Adaptation, Benefit, Change, Cycling, Effort, Essays, Exercise, Exercise And Spirituality, Expectations, Growth, Ideas, Personal Responsibility, Perspective, Philosophy, Reflection, Ritual, Routines and Framework, Running, The future, Venting Middle-Aged Fitness Trainer Who Is Strong Enough To Ocassionaly Take A Drink June 26, 2012

This is Part I of an intermittent series I will be writing and intermingling with unrelated essays over the next few months. Part II of this series may be in 2 weeks – or it may not be for 2 months. Only time will tell, and time is like a carnival mirror. Stay tuned, and enjoy.

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Wake Up. Move.

Nearly 3 years ago I gave my Jeep away in favor of being a bicycle commuter. Roughly every 12 hours, six days per week, I have been on my bike peddling the hills of Fallbrook for 30+ minutes in each direction. Later this week I will be merging my home and my fitness studio into a single location. Once again I will be working from home and my bookend bicycle commutes will take their place in the story of my timeline.

My morning ride, often before sunrise, has set the tone for my day, and been the calling into action of my body and my senses for 3 years. Through the heat, the cold, the morning fog, rains, coyotes crossing my path, low flying owls, skunks blending into the blacktop, drivers texting and mismanaging their coffee as they fail to see me, I would become alert. I became awakened though, from the exhilaration of climbing the hills, and feeling of the wind in my face riding them down.

My new commute will simply be the act of stepping over Stroodle and trying not to spill coffee on him as I enter my studio each morning. How will I call my senses into action now…?

Stroodle; the newest obsticle in my commute…

The Jericho Mile

In the late 1970s a made for TV movie made an imprint on my fitness psyche that would last for decades. To this day, The Jericho Mile, starring Peter Strauss, is one of the most inspirational movies I have seen with regard to athletic courage. The Jericho Mile is the fictional tale of a man who was imprisoned for a murder he committed while trying to defend his stepsister from an abusive father. While in prison, woven between several other story lines, Strauss’ character, Larry Murphy, spent most of his time in self-imposed isolation. He would use that time to establish himself as a world class runner. Impressed by his talent, prison officials even attempted to qualify him for the Olympics from behind bars.

In one scene, Murphy and a would-be running coach from the outside were discussing the feeling of a runner’s high. They compared the experience of running to floating – running without feeling the ground beneath their feet. I found that description simply poetic. It left me wanting to experience it for myself. Despite my blossoming passion for weightlifting, that floating analogy instantly made me a runner at heart. The fact that I had never enjoyed running now had opposition.

After watching The Jericho Mile, at the age of 18, I felt I had to become a runner. After my first week of running, I came to two conclusions; that running is both hard, and stupid. I would not attempt to run regularly for another 25 years. However, I really wanted to connect to that ideal of poetry from physicality – the floating thing. Soon I began mentally mining that sensation from my weight training. I began to view my strength training as analogous to anything poetic – and I still do. That mind-set has served me well for 30+ years in the gym. From that one scene in The Jericho Mile, I have developed an appreciation for the beauty and poetry that lies within all forms of challenging athletics.

Running Men

My first exposure to the ideal of running came years before seeing The Jericho Mile. In the early 1970s, my father, then a weight-conscious individual, took to running as a means of better health and weight control. They called it jogging back then but that would soon change. Jim Fixx’s book, The Complete Book Of Running, turned jogging into running, and running went from fad to fiber in the American fitness psyche. In the late 1970s, you couldn’t throw a cat 50 feet without it hitting a copy of The Complete Book Of Running.

Around the same time my father began jogging, my brother, four years my senior, began competing for his high schools’ cross country team. Suddenly, I was surrounded by running. But I was a weightlifter. Full biceps, a respectable bench press, and an obvious v-taper were my only agenda. Running, I reasoned, was not consistent with my goals, and so it went for about 30 years. Then, in my mid-40s, I became engaged to be married – to a woman who wanted to run a marathon.

If she was going to run a marathon, so would I. That’s what a relationship is. If she had chosen to become a cross-dressing Nazi sandwich maker, I too would have become a cross-dressing Nazi sandwich maker. But she didn’t become a cross-dressing Nazi sandwich maker, she became a runner. Shit. Following my fiancée’s lead, in 2007 I began preparing for a marathon. Over the course of a year or so, I trained for and completed the 26.2 mile event which most runners consider the supreme accomplishment within their sport. Through it all though, I never considered myself a runner, and the so-called runner’s high had eluded me. I never floated when I ran. I had run many races in preparation for my marathon including 5Ks, 10Ks, and a half-marathon, but I never felt as though I was a runner – not in the spiritual sense.

I am a hoarder of fitness values. That is, once I attain a new physical ability, I won’t let it go. I simply add new values to my physical repertoire and expand it over time. Through the mid-2000s I had worked hard attain the ability to run and did not want to let it go. After my first marathon I kept running mixed into my fitness fold, and I have been running ever since. Despite my cycling, strength training, hiking, stretching, and other conditioning activities, I still make time to run each week. Running is something I continue to do because I feel I should. After all, fitness is what I do for a living, and running is synonymous with fitness, yes…?

Next Up, Floating…

With my bicycle commute not longer needed to start my day, I have decided to run each morning prior to starting my workday — in quest of floating. I now seek to become a runner in the spiritual sense. This process will begin later this week, and I will be writing about it intermittently over the next few months. Whether I ever float or experience a runner’s I high, I won’t predict. I will though, remain committed to my early morning run come rain, shine, or tonsillitis, as I did with my bike. Be well. rc

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Please check back in 2 weeks to see happens when I push the “stop” button on the blender inside my head. Oh, and there is this from Mike Stinson, formerly of The Replacments. Enjoy…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LNJFUomPtfY&feature=g-all-u

And So It Goes…

Posted by Roy Cohen in 1 and tagged with Adaptation, Addiction, Attitude, Benefit, Change, Discipline, Essays, Expectations, Growth, Living In The Modern World, Middle Aged Fitness Trainer Who Knows The Meaning Of The Word Commitment, Personal Responsibility, Perspective, Reflection, Ritual, Rules, Venting Middle-aged Fitness Trainer Who's Nursing His Drink June 14, 2012

This Part IV of this series. If you have not read Parts I, II, or III, please click those links and take time to read them as well.

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The M Factor

The circumstances had dictated that I alone must change my life, but I did have some unexpected help. On the day the walls caved in, I received a text message from, M, the girlfriend of a friend of mine. M (not her real name), me sent a text message to say goodbye. She and my friend had broken up and she assumed the breakup would estrange us from one-another. M also knew I wanted to quit drinking. As she exited my life via text, she asked how I was doing with it. I replied by telling her what had transpired earlier that day, and a cheerleader was born.

Over the next several days, M called me, emailed me, and texted me to stay connected. During the first few days of this transition she stood behind me, in front of me, and beside me. Mostly, she helped keep me aware of the task at hand. She was an unexpected angel on my shoulder, and I will be forever grateful for her hand in this.

Unique Vantage Point

I make a point of warning all weight loss clients to be cautious of expecting any degree of success. The CDC defines successful weight loss as having lost 30 pounds or more, and keeping it off for more than one year. Even by that liberal definition, the success rate among sincere weight loss attempts I have been involved with is under 10%. The notion of weight loss is easier to conjure, than tangible results are to achieve.

People who attempt weight loss often seek structure to aid them. Systems such as Jenny Craig, Weight Watchers, or NutriSystem are sought. Though these may have utility, at the end of the day it is not those means which enable successful weight loss. I argue that successful weight loss is primarily the result of the level of commitment exerted by the individual – that success is the result of the commitment, not the methods. Too often we praise these systems for someone’s success more than the commitment an individual poured into reaching the goal.

When I chose to quit drinking many of my friends suggested I attend AA meetings or join a 12-step program to help me stay on track. Similarly, the success rate of AA is relative to the success rate of many weight loss systems. Though many people do succeed with the help of AA and similar organizations, the much larger majority fail. My experience in weight loss gave me a unique vantage point where I could see the parallel between losing weight and stopping drinking. I knew this change had to come from within. This would not be about the system. This would be about my commitment.

Also, I have never been able to accept two primary tenets that AA and similar programs teach:

- That alcoholism is a disease

- That the term “addict” is a lifetime assignment as it apllies to alcohol.

If addict is a synonym for decision maker, then color me an addict. Once you’re a decision maker, you’ll always be a decision maker – that I can accept. Every drink I ever chose to take, I chose to take. Cancer is a disease. Drinking is a choice.

Also, such programs teach addiction will be with one for a lifetime. In my opinion that ideal only teaches weakness, and offers a built in excuse to relapse. There is no room for relapse here and weakness is not an option – my potential is at stake.

Monster. Energy. Drink.

When I stopped drinking, my fear of not sleeping was the monster whose shadow still frightened me. From May of 2000 until recently, I had come to believe that fair sleep would only come my way with a liquid head start. My first night without alcohol I slept just over an hour. Still, my business was at stake so the next day I nailed a 12-hour workday on just 1 hour of sleep and I survived. The next night I enjoyed nearly 2 hours or so of broken sleep and nailed another workday, as well as survived my taxing bicycle commute.

By day 4 of this pattern I was beyond exhausted and knew I needed a better plan. I decided I would begin to eat dinner late – just before crawling into bed. Prior to eating I would allow myself 2 over the counter sleep aids, and let my late dinner work them into my blood stream quickly. The first night, that resulted in 5 hours of fair sleep. I woke up feeling refreshed and positive. Five hours of fair sleep is enough. A new protocol was born.

No, it’s not perfect. Yes, I have substituted one fix for another. I will hope in time I will successfully wean myself from the sleep aids. If I never do, honestly, I’m good with it. I have energy these days – real energy. I have enthusiasm, optimism, and bravery in the face of bad circumstances. I am alive. Over the counter sleeping pills notwithstanding, I feel like me for the first time in over a year.

Where It Fits In

But I didn’t really stop drinking — I stopped drinking myself to sleep. Since that Friday morning I hit critical mass, I have enjoyed and appreciated a glass of wine here, a beer there, and even a smidge of Ouzo while traveling in Greece – without feeling the need to pile on and load up. I have not had multiple drinks, or even consecutive days of drinking since I crawled out of bed. I have been tested to be sure, but not tempted. Life is still life, relationships are still messy, and finances are still evil. None of these though, have been reason for me to drink. This all began with, and had everything to do with sleep. People have challenged me on this and suggested those social drinks will set me on a dark course. Those people, I suspect, would find fiendish pleasure in seeing me fail. If addict is a synonym for decision maker, then color me an addict. Be well. rc

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Please check back in 2 weeks to see what happens when I push the “stop” button on the blender in my head. Oh, and there is this from the Candy Skins — one of my all-time favorite covers of a classic song. Enjoy…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GdfFVBMXJHE&ob=av2e

The Collapse…

Posted by Roy Cohen in 1 and tagged with Adaptation, Addiction, Almost nothing to do with fitness, Attitude, Benefit, Change, Discipline, Disease, Essays, Expectations, Growth, Guilt, Personal Responsibility, Perspective, Reflection, Ritual, Routines and Framework, Self-Loathing, The future, The Life I Designed June 4, 2012

This is Part III of a series of four essays for this blog. If you have not read Part I or Part II please click those links prior to reading this. Please check back in 2 weeks for Part IV — I assure you it’s good news…

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Emotional disembowelment. That is the best phrase I know to describe the morning that led to my fall. It was also the doorway needed for a possible rebirth. More on that in a year or two…

The Collapse

I had arrived home on a Monday after an eleven hour, and particularly toxic workday. The personalities and conversations which pass through my studio can sometimes get the better of me. It may be called fitness training but there can be a heavy crosspollination of thoughts and ideas exchanged as the fitness is cultivated. The topics of death, aging, cancer, divorce, injuries, and family dysfunction are chief among the subjects people wish to discuss while they do lunges, planks, and crunches. I’m not against this discourse so long as there is sufficient effort channeled into the exercises simultaneously performed.

I had not had a drink in several days and had eaten extremely well for the prior week. I was feeling like after 12 years of bedtime drinking, I might actually earn my way out of this thing. A couple of over-the-counter sleep aids followed by a dish of Brussels sprouts and some carne asada would suit me fine on this evening, and my impending sleep would erase the toxic residue from my day. Despite the sleep aids, as my head lay on my pillow in hopes of rest, every thought I had that day had rematerialized in my head – simultaneously. Soon those bullets began to ricochet off the walls of my mind in rapid fire succession.

My head was spinning with thoughts of business, upcoming travel, finances, and conversations from the day still resonating. At midnight, still wide awake, I poured a glass of vodka and drank it straight. That calmed me down and I was probably been asleep within 30 minutes. At 3:30am I woke up though, as the blender in my head turned on again. This time the blender was set to puree. I drank some more vodka and after another 30 minutes or so I fell back asleep. I woke up again at 4:30am with just enough time to shower, build my meals, prep my bike, and get it together for another workday. At this point though, I just didn’t want to. I only wanted to go back to sleep. So I poured some more and repeated the cycle again, insulating myself from myself.

Before I drank my way into another short-term coma, I texted or emailed all of my sessions for that Tuesday morning advising them I wasn’t feeling well and was not going to work. I would not leave bed again until the following Saturday. For nearly a week, I drank my way around the clock, scarcely leaving bed, mindlessly Facebooking, watching movies on my laptop, napping, enjoying conversations with my dog, and writing. It was like an all-inclusive vacation on Skid Row Island.

Each morning for nearly a week I would contact my clients and advise them I was taking the day off; that I was sick, had some emergency, a flat tire, or whatever story might garner me another day off. Truly, I just wanted rest. Honestly, I’m not nearly as sorry about the drinking as I am for all the lying.

The Confession Eruption

By that Friday morning I knew that my clients were beginning to sense something was up. My brain was swimming in alcohol. My ears rang, my hands shook, I was hot, I was cold, and I was confused. I was also out of alcohol which meant all of those sensations were about to increase – substantially. I called my first session of the day to tell her I was sick. She is not only a client, but she is a dear friend and occasional workout partner. Suddenly I just broke down and came clean about my week of drinking. As I cried, I begged nervously for her forgiveness – feeling as though I deserved anything but. She was both accommodating and concerned for me. I’m glad she was first.

One by one I began calling all of my clients with similar confessions, and sincere apologies. All were received better than I deserved. By the end of the 4^th phone call I was in such emotional distress, I had to stop. I began contacting my 32 remaining clients by email with similar, and well detailed confessions. In sending those emails, I knew this might be my best chance to avoid losing my business, my life, or both. I had made the commitment, finally, to stop drinking. I would spend the rest of that Friday crying, thinking, and attempting to summon strength.

High Functioning Vs. Functioning High; A Juxtaposition

The first week after crawling out of bed that Saturday, I had to face my future as well as my past. Yes, there was all that sobriety to reckon with, as well as my personal and business relationships, financial concerns, and my health. But me being me, what I chose to came face to face with first, was my exercise life. How on Earth, I wondered, was I was able to function at such a high level drinking well into the morning 7 days per week for over a decade…?

My last drink during the night was often at 2am, 3am or even 4am. Still, I would be out the door and on my bike riding 30+ minutes to work most days by 530am. I would work until noon, take in my workout with the weights, have lunch accompanied by a drink or two, work my afternoon sessions, and ride home. Once home, I would feed myself, crawl into bed with my laptop, and begin the cycle again. Sundays would find me doing beastly exercise things with my beastly friends, and actually keeping up with them. But I knew I was fading physically. By January of 2012, I could feel it and see myself losing ground in my physicality.

To be continued…

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Please check back in 2 weeks for Part IV. Oh, and there is this from Ronnie Lane who passed away 15 years ago today. He was exquisite. Enjoy…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wpoC_S-2Jf8

In Total Control, Almost Kind Of…

Posted by Roy Cohen in 1 and tagged with Adaptation, Addiction, Almost nothing to do with fitness, Attitude, Benefit, Change, Daily Action, Discipline, Disease, Effort, Essays, Exercise, Expectations, Faith, Growth, Guilt, Living In The Modern World, New Day Rising, Personal Responsibility, Perspective, Reflection, Ritual, Routines and Framework, Self-Loathing, The future, The Life I Designed, Venting Middle-aged Fitness Trainer Who No Longer Needs A Drink, What The Fuck Is Wrong With My Brain...? May 5, 2012

This is Part II of a series of four essays for this blog. If you have not read Part I, please click here.

I will be busy relocating my business and traveling overseas during the next few weeks. Please check back in early June for Part III of this series.

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Home Studio

As a fitness enthusiast, I had designed my life to be lived aesthetically and with a reasonable amount of productive selfishness. In the early 2000s I took my training studio into my home and in set shop in my oversized garage. I did this primarily so I would never be too far from my gym. If alcohol was used to help me sleep at night, my daily action was the methadone of my daylight hours. Working from home would enable more opportunities for more activities.

I not only took my business into my home, but I built my work schedule around my play time. Working from home would make it easier to break up my schedule – to take earlier and later sessions, thus setting up the middle of the day for myself to lift, run, kayak, surf, or swim. By 2005 I was living my dream, training clients for 3 hours early in the morning, playing during the peak of the San Diego day, and training clients for another 3 hours in the evening – and I was profitable. I could not have built my life any better.

Chief Running Beer

Sleep still came with a price, and my bedtime cocktails continued. In 2007 I took more seriously to running as I prepared for every runner’s ultimate race, the marathon. Where I once feared running under the hot summer sun, I came to embrace my mid-day beach runs at Oceanside Harbor. One afternoon in July I returned home after a strong 8 mile run at the beach on an 85 degree day. I felt alive – the kind of alive that made me feel as though god had something to learn from me. With my next training session still a couple of hours away I opened my fridge, pulled out an ice-cold MGD Lite and drank it down. I was the most refreshing beer I had ever had. Through all of my bedtime drinking, I had never before taken a drink in the middle of a workday.

The post-run MGD became a daily ritual. At 64 calories each, I could more than afford it, and it scarcely went to my brain. It was simply the cherry on top of my hot afternoon runs. In December of 2007 I completed my first marathon. I was light, lean, and feeling very good about my physicality. With no new race on the horizon, I shortened my runs and spent more time with the weights, hill climbing, and in my ocean-going my kayak. Every so often my mid-day MGD Lite would be replaced by a shot of tequila as I enjoyed a healthy lunch at Estrella’s restaurant in Bonsall. This continued for a few more years with no disruption to my personality, physicality, my writing, or the state of my business affairs. If a stranger ever asked me what I did for a living, I would simply reply, “I’m Roy Cohen, I do summer vacation for a living.”

Studio B

In December of 2009 I took my studio from my home and moved it into commercial space as I relocated to a new home residence that could not accommodate my gym. I also gave away my Jeep and committed to life as a fulltime bicycle commuter. In hind-site I’m not sure these simultaneous changes were in my best interest. They were, however, my new course. As my lifestyle changed, I began to long for the beach and the water, which without a car, I could no longer access during my extended mid-day breaks. I had become bored with my weight room, a bit depressed an despite my bedtime cocktail, my sleep began to suffer once again.

By mid-2010 my afternoon MGDs gave way completely to a daily shot of 1800 Silver, and on longer breaks, I took more than one shot. Still, my physicality was largely unaffected. I built those calories into my eating and exercise day, and charged forward. With no surfing, kayaking, or beach runs, I focused more on my weights despite that they were no longer calling me as they once did. My bike became a greater priority but something was different – not fully realizing it, I had drifted far away from happy. I missed my beachy lifestyle, my time in the sun, and the freedom to go anywhere in my Jeep — I just didn’t realize yet that I missed it.

Commuting on my bike 6 or 7 days per week in addition to my long rides, my cardio output had increased drastically, yet I was unwilling to give back any of the time with my weights. My ability to recover from riding and lifting decreased and led to overtraining which even more fractured my sleep – which led to even more post bedtime drinking. By the middle of 2011 I was getting about 1/3^rd of my daily calories from alcohol – and most of that during bedtime hours. I began decreasing carbohydrates to compensate. Within a few months I began to notice serious changes in my physicality. My muscle mass was suffering, my body fat was increasing, and my strength had noticeably diminished. I was also exhausted most of the time though I tried hard not to show it to my clients and workout partners. A pattern of lying to my friends, my clients, and myself soon began, and soon began to snowball.

To be continued…

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Please check back in early June for Part III of this series. Oh, and there is this from singer/songwriter, Milton Mapes. Enjoy…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4di5qsMqOeA

Here’s To A Good Night’s Sleep…

Posted by Roy Cohen in 1 and tagged with Adaptation, Addiction, Almost nothing to do with fitness, Attitude, Benefit, Change, Discipline, Disease, Essays, Expectations, Growth, Guilt, Living In A Mini Van, New Day Rising, Personal Responsibility, Perspective, Ritual, Self-Loathing, Sleep, The future, Venting Middle-aged Fitness Trainer Who No Longer Needs A Drink April 23, 2012

This is the first of what will be an ongoing series of essays for this blog. I first wrote the essay below, Part I, over a year and a half ago. After sharing it with several friends, I was advised by them not to publish it to the web — that I would someday regret doing so.

I heeded my friends’ sincere advice despite my desire to post this in 2010 — as a means starting the process of getting alcohol out of my life. Sitting on this for a year and a half did not do me any good. This is right for me. This day, this time, this platform.

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Shocking. No Seriously, Shocking.

When I sat down to write this week’s essay on body image, I knew immediately that I really wanted to write about my drinking – it was time and I was finally ready. Now for those whose jaws just dropped, that’s no joke. For over a decade alcohol has been central in my life, and has been used primarily as a cure for my chronic insomnia since my divorce in 2000. For most of my adult life prior, I almost never drank, and when I did drink it was usually less than one – alcohol I had always reasoned, was not consistent with a life of fitness.

The Beginning

If it’s trite to suggest that my drinking began innocently, so be it. Divorce is hard even under the best of circumstances, and the circumstances of my divorce were not the best. Shortly after moving out of my suburban California home and into a Ford Windstar mini-van, and in the aftermath of leaving my wife and daughter behind, I found sleeping to be nearly impossible. Guilt, confusion, destruction, fear, and self-loathing; these were just a few reasons I stayed awake at night with my thoughts spinning in an elliptical orbit around the gravity of my selfish actions.

However, as an active person, sleep was necessary to for me to function well and recover from the rigorous exercise regimen which was such a large part of my life. Over a period of weeks I had tried all the common cures for insomnia; warm milk, herbal remedies, meditation, and over the counter sleep aids – with no success. I once took 6 Benadryl and still stayed up all night. Nothing worked to help ease my non-sleeping woes. Well, almost nothing.

One evening I turned to rum and Diet Coke – seemed innocent, and I had remembered that alcohol had always made me drowsy quickly – one more reason why I rarely drank. It worked like a charm too, and for the next few evenings I sent myself into a peaceful rest with a few rum and Diet Cokes as I nested in the back of my mini-van contemplating my future. This was to be a short-term fix and as soon as I found a permanent place to live, I would stop the drinking.

Evolution Of The Quantities Part I; Mr. Brownstone Evolves

Within a few months I was out of the mini-van and living in a little one-room shack on 14 acres here in Fallbrook. It was perfectly cozy. The shack had no heat, no air-conditioning, was surrounded by avocado and macadamia trees, wonderful evening breezes, and coyotes honoring the night with their songs as I drifted off to sleep. It also helped that I was sleeping in the warm tranquility of a waterbed. Sleep no longer required rum, and for six months I slept better than at any point in my life and though I was grateful for the rest, I was more grateful to be rid of alcohol.

After six months in this serene environment, I found a less expensive place to live. At a time when money mattered more, my new home would also be large enough to host my fitness studio. It was hard to leave that calming scene and landscape behind, but I chose to make the move, and would remain in the new place for the next ten years. Away from my peaceful isolation among the trees and coyotes, and without the waterbed, my insomnia would promptly return.

Since I knew what to do and was not susceptible to hangovers, I began my rum-fueled bedtime drinks once again. This worked well for several years. Within a few years though, I found myself pouring them a little taller. Within a couple more, I began to notice they were less effective, so I poured them taller still. This worked well for many years until I began waking up in the middle of the night unable to go back to sleep – unless of course I poured a little more which I soon began to do with little effect on my physicality or personality.

This was the process that would take me through 12+ years; that each evening I would take a 44-ounce Big Gulp cup to bed, eventually to contain about 50% rum or tequila, 50% diet soda, and I would fall asleep. If I woke in the middle of the night, I would finish the drink and go right back to sleep until morning. I didn’t sweat the extra calories, I just built them into my day with less food, more cardio, or both.

Through all of this, I maintained the best physical condition of my life – so far as everything but my liver was concerned. I woke early, worked out intensely, and went about my day teaching and practicing fitness. During this period I participated in bodybuilding, competitive running, ocean-going paddle board racing, and even did a few competitive stair climbs up to the tops of skyscrapers. Never though, did I drink during the day, or anywhere else but in bed. This was about sleep to me, not a love of alcohol. I hated that I did it, but the process worked and sleep mattered.

To be continued…

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Comments are closed this week.

Please check back in two weeks for Part II of this series. Oh, and there is this from The Avett Brothers, enjoy…

Week Daze…

Posted by Roy Cohen in 1 and tagged with Absolutely NOTHING To DO With Fitness, Days, Expectations, Humor, Lack, Living In The Modern World, Not Enough NyQuil In The World, Perception, Productivity, Ritual, Routines and Framework, The Workweek, Time, Venting Middle-aged Fitness Trainer Who No Longer Needs A Drink, What The Fuck Is Wrong With My Brain...?, Work April 14, 2012

Nothing fitness related this week. Working on several new fitness related essays for later this month, and for May. In the meantime there is this from my personal journal, written last weekend.

Daze Of The Week

There are seven days in a week. Though each day can be similar to the day before, the next day is sure to include some unique moment, fresh thought, or previously unknown experience. Some of those moments and experiences will be good and some not so good. Though each day of the week might represent something different to anyone of us, it’s fair to say many of us view each named day of the week pretty much the same.

For many, Monday is the daunting start of the workweek. People often resent Monday for thrusting its blood thirsty hand through our chest, stealing the still-beating heart out of our weekend memories, and throwing it to the base of the pyramid. Things at work might be accomplished on Monday, but often seem get done at a lesser pace for that resentment.

Tuesday it seems, is an unnecessary extension of Monday. The primary difference between Monday and Tuesday is the rhythm of the day. The weekend is all but forgotten and by Tuesday morning and the idea of bondage to the job has become easier to accept. Tuesday is less sullen. Things are likely accomplished at an increased pace over Monday, and the day might pass more easily.

Wednesday is hump day for many; the day that brings us past the tipping point toward the coveted weekend. Wednesday is like Friday-light. Wednesday morning we begin seeing the light of our impending weekend come into view. That energy may prompt an increase in productivity during the first half of Wednesday. Wednesday afternoon though, identifies a substantial roadblock between that blithe moment and the weekend – we’ll refer to that roadblock as Thursday. On this recognition, productivity on Wednesday afternoon may be at a low for the week.

Thursday is just another unnecessary extension of Monday. No, more like a sister moon to Monday. How this chunk of Monday got thrown so far ahead into the week, scientists still don’t understand. Thursday may be the longest day of the week. However, Thursday is likely the most productive day of the week. What else are you going to do all alone on that moon, except work…?

Friday needs no introduction. Friday is at the top of the A-list of weekday celebrities. Face it, Friday is the only day on any list of weekday celebrities. Despite its probably low productivity, the mood is generally good on Fridays since nobody will have to see or deal with anyone else in the workplace again until Monday. Friday is a celebration unto itself.

The perception of Saturday and Sunday differs much more for most. There is less emotional gravity on the weekends holding us down. Some degree of fun or relaxation is likely to be had – unless of course one has small children. Then Saturday and Sundays become the other sister moons of Monday, and they are run by slave driver bosses much smaller than us.

Many flee on Saturday and Sunday, in different directions in pursuit of differing agendas. Others just stay home and veg. If nothing else, I’ll suggest that the weekend is a necessary pit stop to stay in the Monday through Friday rat race. Regardless of how one spends Saturday or Sunday, weekends are a perfect distraction until Friday happens again.

Thus is the cycle of the workweek for the masses. I understand that not everyone works a traditional workweek. There is shift work, rotating schedules, technological intrusions on our soccer games, family outings, and meals. But the days of the week are like puzzle pieces, and can be fit to replace one another for what is likely to be a similar conclusion regardless of one’s true work schedule.

When I was 19 years old Muppet Master, Jim Henson, told me that work is what we’re here for. Through my many long and sometimes trying workdays, I have tried hard to remember and take regular inventory of that lesson.

The Colors Of The day

Since I was quite young, each named day has represented more to me than the place my life sits in the given workweek. I’m not sure where this came from, but for most of my life when I envision the name of a day, Monday, Tuesday, etc., each of our seven days is represented to me by a color. When I read, speak, or hear another speak the name of a day, I always envision a particular color in my head synonymous with that day, and I do so immediately.

Monday is red
Tuesday is brown
Wednesday is yellow
Thursday is blue
Friday is green
Saturday shares yellow with Wednesday
Sunday is black

I can offer no explanation for the assignment of these colors in my head, but they have been there since grade school. When I think of Wednesday I don’t think of hump day, I first think of yellow. And so it goes for all the days of the week. Each day is represented with an inherent color in my mind. What these colors represent or why I may never know, they’re just ingrained in my psyche.

For those commenting this week, I am sincerely curious, does anyone else associate the days of the week with colors, or numbers, or anything else such as a car, super model, or breed of dog…? I will be interested in your response. Be well. rc

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Please check back in 2 weeks to see what happens when I push the “stop” button on the blender in my head. Oh, and there is this from Sun Volt. Enjoy…

In Theory…

Posted by Roy Cohen in 1 and tagged with Addiction, Attitude, Benefit, Chili, Essays, Food, Humor, Ideas, Music, My Imagination Is Killing Me, Ritual, Royisms, Simplicity, Theories, Tips, Venting Middle-aged Fitness Trainer Who No Longer Needs A Drink March 31, 2012

My Three Theories

I call it Rachel Theory, and I began developing it in the 8^th grade. Simply put, Rachel Theory suggests that there’s no such thing as an ugly Rachel. I’m 50 years old and to this day I have yet to lay eyes on a Rachel who isn’t beautiful, or at least pretty. I have not completed my work on this area yet, and likely will not have a conclusion until I draw my final breath. So far though, my work on Rachel Theory seems solid.

Kitten Theory. Kitten Theory is more complicated. I suggest that if I engage in conversation with a woman I have not previously met, and within the initial moments of the conversation I flippantly refer to her as, Kitten, I will win her favor immediately. I know this is counterintuitive, but it works. The woman in question realizes that pronouncement is over the top and tries to be offended by it, but she just can’t be. She’s arrested by the immediacy of it. Add to that, who doesn’t love to look at, hold kittens, and appreciate the cuteness of a kitten…? In an instant she will be associating herself with soft fuzzy cuteness. From there, I will simply be my charming self and all will be good. Again, my work here is not complete, but thus far Kitten Theory has yielded good results.

My favorite self-derived theory though, is Chili Theory. Like Rachel Theory, Chili Theory is simple; there’s no such thing as bad chili, only different levels of good. Of the healthy items I produce on a regular basis, my chili most resembles jazz or the blues. Every single performance is different, and improvisation is the key. So far, Chili Theory is holding up well. The next bad batch of chili I make will be my first.

Constantly Testing The Theory

I make a pot of chili every other Tuesday. Always slow cooked in a Crock Pot, always more meat than beans, and after my first taste it always makes me shout the word, Grrrdiggity. Not a real word. The music of my chili is classified in the genre of healthy eating – sometimes jazz based, sometimes blues based, but always organic in arrangement and unique. I’m the producer, and I select the session players, but for the most part, I just assemble them and allow them to just do their thing. One Crock Pot of chili kept in the refrigerator will supply a daily dose of taste bud music for about two weeks.

I made a simple pot of chili this week because I had little to work with in the ways of players and production time. Still, this week’s chili has become an instant hit for me. I’ve don’t offer recipes on this platform because that’s not what this fitness blog is about. However, this week I’m going to share the chili that is currently climbing the charts and will likely end up in my chili hall of fame. Like the music of Seasick Steve, it comes from simple stuff.

The Players

Two bounds of grass fed, steroid and antibiotic free ground beef
Twelve roasted chipotle chilies
Two cans of diced green chilies (normally I use fresh but limited time this week)
One can of black beans rinsed in a colander
One can of cannellini beans rinsed in a colander
Ten vine ripened tomatoes sliced in fourths
One white onion finely diced
Unidentified secret spices; you can choose your own (hint: one of them rhymes with rinnamon)

The Arrangement And The Playbacks

Put all the players in the Crock Pot, turn the volume to high, walk away and enjoy the scent of the concert. Smell the music for about 8 hours or so and occasionally offer some production by stirring the players up – they love that. This music will give to the nose first, but on completion, 4 large tablespoons at a time, this music will give to the taste buds every day for up to two weeks.

How is it, you ask, that just four tablespoons of chili are able to sustain one as a meal…? Out there as this may sound, I serve it to myself over piles of steamed vegetables. Usually over steamed broccoli, sometimes steamed Brussels sprouts, or steamed zucchini – occasionally a blend of all of the aforementioned. Chili over vegetables you ask…? Yes!

Okay, here’s the punch line; I eat this for breakfast. Yes I, Roy Jhciacb Cohen, have eaten chili over steamed vegetables for breakfast nearly every day for two months. What a great way to start the day; a right mix of protein, carbohydrate, and vegetables. A breakfast without veggies is like a song without a bass – pointless. My morning chili over veggies sustains me for hours.

Sometimes it’s a beef based chili. Other times it’s turkey, chicken, or even bison which provide the back beat. For time’s sake, the meat I use is usualy ground. When time permits, I prefer it shredded or in chunks. The session players change from week to week, and no two sessions are ever the same. Next week, it’s going to be ground lamb and garbanzo beans, some Bearss limes fresh off the tree, and whoever else shoes up for the jam. But it’s not jam, it’s chili – breakfast chili. Be well. rc

Please check back in two weeks to see what comes out when I push the “stop” button on the blender inside my head. Oh, and there is this from Seasick Steve. From such simple ingrediants… Enjoy!

The Art Of Self…

Posted by Roy Cohen in 1 and tagged with Adaptation, Americanness, Attitude, Baseball, Benefit, Change, Discipline, Effort, Exercise, Expectations, Growth, Ideas, Living In The Modern World, Memes, Obesity, Personal Responsibility, Perspective, Philosophy, Reflection, Ritual, Scorpian Crawling Across My Floor, Strength, Venting Middle-Aged Fitness Trainer Who Sometimes Needs A Drink March 18, 2012

The Learning Of Art

I struck up a conversation with an acquaintance while in town shopping for produce the other day. In ten minutes the conversation went from spinach to politics, to religion, finally segueing into art. I had not known he was an artist. I asked what media he worked in; oils, pastels, water colors, pencil, etc. That answer and subsequent conversation isn’t relevant, but the terms media and art got me thinking.

Art knows many mediums from bronze, to paints, musical notes , the written word, and even Photo Shop in this era. We begin learning about art at a young age, often times from the crude media of popsicle sticks, crayons, working our way into watercolors, and maybe even clay by the 3^rd grade. By the time our children leave school we hope they are proficient in some form of art, and have an appreciation for its value in society.

Most quit practicing the arts they learn in school as soon as they graduate. It seems true that during the school years, art isn’t as often cultivated or nourished at home by mom or dad the way math, science, and reading are. Though some do continue practicing art well into adulthood, I’ll suggest for the majority, learning art is just a small part of basic education.

The Media We Are Born With

We all carry an artistic medium within us. Not the creativity behind the art, but the media itself. Only a small percentage though, will ever become proficient in working with this potential media. I like to think of muscle as an artistic medium. Muscle is quite malleable. When worked regularly and supported with proper nutrition, muscle can boast a beautiful result. What is unique about the medium of muscle, is that well-formed muscles never end up just hanging on a wall or sitting on a shelf. A beautiful work in muscle goes everywhere its artist goes.

A work in the media of muscle doesn’t just get seen, it also gets seen in movement; walking tall, carrying things thought too heavy to carry, tensing more as the load increases – changing in shape as the load shifts. Whether it’s a weight being moved in the gym, or that big water bottle being moved at the grocery store, when muscle is winning its game over gravity eyes stay fixed. Muscle also looks good, bare or draped. Throw a cloth over a painting and who knows what’s underneath. Drape some muscle, put it in action and an observer can’t help but note the art.

The Majority Report

There is a lesser media to work with in the human form, and these works are far too common. Many more people work in the medium of what I will just refer to as loosely packed muscle; body fat. That kind of art goes everywhere with the artist as well, and when it is draped it’s as distinguishable as muscle – more so when in motion, though it doesn’t look quite as good. A work in loosely packed muscle isn’t really a work; it’s more a result. The result of throwing some food at the canvas of life’s problems and accepting whatever happens. I point no finger here. I have worked in the art of loosely packed muscle myself – multiple times. Loosely packed muscle is the chaos of the body art world and there is nothing avant garde about it – it’s the glue and macaroni art of the human form.

Back To School

We actually do learn another art in school; the art of crafting the body. Though PE programs have faltered in recent years due to budget cuts, as have art and music programs, PE is still a part of most public education systems. Children are taught to exercise in school and given a chance to practice what they learn on a regular basis. Like coloring and sculpting, the art of exercise isn’t often cultivated or nourished at home the way math, science, and reading are.

A trend we have all observed is the tendency to give up the art of exercise not long after we give up art in charcoal and clay – when it’s no longer required at school. Graduation sets in, money is pursued and the art of influencing the human aesthetic is abandoned by the masses. Though some do continue practicing the art of exercise well into adulthood, for the majority, learning the art of exercise is just a small part of basic education.

I’ll Take A Medium Please…

Wherever one falls on the fitness spectrum, I encourage everyone to think of the body more as an artistic media; a canvas to be worked on and presented to the world. It doesn’t have to be a masterpiece, just a work in progress. Dedicating a little time to it each day can yield a better functioning and more attractive product. Exercising the body – practicing the art of muscle modification is much more rewarding than gluing popsicle sticks or coloring between the lines established by others. Working in the media of muscle is personal. With consistency, the artist’s abilities will advance, the media will improve in form, and like many works of art, will increase in value over time. Be well. rc

Please check back in 2 weeks to see what happens when I push the stop button on the blender in my head. Oh, and there is this from Bob Walkenhiorst. Baseball season is upon us. Let us not forget the past. Enjoy…

Fool For A Pretty Face…

Posted by Roy Cohen in 1 and tagged with Almost nothing to do with fitness, Attitude, Benefit, Essays, Faith, Ideas, Lack Of Discipline, Living In The Modern World, Middle-aged Fintess Trainer Who Nurses His Drinks, Music, Perspective, Royisms February 29, 2012

When They’re Hot They’re Hot

My head turns too easily when I see them these days. At this stage of middle age, I’m beyond the point of being able to control it. I fall, if only for a moment, with every single one I look at. The blonde ones, the ones with red on top, even the black ones. I love the auburn ones. If they’re bejeweled a bit with the shimmer of shining metal against their faces or along their necks, they steel my eyes more quickly. The contrast of silver up against the faces of the black ones is striking. I love the look of gold on the neck of a blonde.

I like when they have curves too, and I don’t mind admitting that. The curves are what I notice first, even before I see their faces. Not that I have anything against the thin ones with nice angles and clean lines. I want to caress them. I don’t want to hurt them, just hold them – to let my hands enjoy their bodies while my eyes appreciate their faces. Natural selection made me this way.

When I hold one in my arms, I soon have an impulse to impose my will on her. Sometimes gently, other times I imagine hardcore play. I even desire to throw them around a bit. It can be rough and still not be hurtful you know – still filled with love, appreciation, and pleasure. There are times I fantasize of striking them just so I can hear them scream or weep.

I like the idea of owning them; mine to enjoy whenever I want, or to lock up when the mood no longer suits me. My decreasing morality suggests I could never be with just one. The thought of having a different one for every day of the week makes my heart race. Still, I resist the idea of having too many because I know they deserve better than me.

No Dedication For Old Man

Sure, I can navigate through a few chords, but I can’t do much with them. That’s okay, just seeing a guitar and holding it in my hands sooths me. Despite that I have owned and sold many guitars in my life, I can scarcely play a lick. I’m just an unworthy man who appreciates that kind of company. I enjoy looking at and holding guitars almost as much as I enjoy listening to them – even if I can’t play.

Though I have never had the discipline to learn to play one, I have always had a supreme appreciation for the art of guitars; how they sound and how they look. I know I’ll never really play the guitar and I’m okay with that. My priorities are elsewhere, writing, cycling, and my weightroom to name a few. There is only so much time in the week. However, just knowing guitars exist offers much richness to my life.

Curves that make my heart race…

Bowing Down To The Art And The Beauty

One thing I can do, that I always do, is to honor those who play so well. I listen to guitar music every day of my life. A variety of styles and genres to be sure, but listening to a guitar is as central to my life as exercise and writing. I currently own two guitars, and I hold them just about every day. I squeeze out a chord here and there, but Stroodle shrugs, hides, and I desist in favor of the real artists. If I never release a decent note from a guitar I hold it’s not a waste. It’s just nice to hold them and appreciate their aesthetic and their touch. Music, I often say, is like sex and pizza, there’s no such thing as bad, only different levels of good, even the butchered music I attempt.

Ghosts And Inspirations

What I really appreciate about the guitar though, are the marks they have left on my soul by the thousands of players I have heard since I bought my first record, Harry Chapin’s, Taxi when I was in the 3^rd grade. I owe a lot of people a lot of gratitude for the ways in which they have enriched my life; my daughter, parents, brother, and friends. In my day to day though, I often feel like I owe the most to the artists and the ghosts who have soothed my soul through the years by creating the soundtrack of my life.

I can’t imagine a life without guitars, and am grateful for the women and men who have played them so sweetly. Without those musical brush strokes through the years, the canvas of my soul would display a more bleak picture. When life gets rough, I turn to exercise or writing to feel better. Just as often, I turn to the precious art of guitars. The power of music has wings. The sound of a guitar is where fingertip athleticism intermingles with inner poetry to form a beautiful conclusion. That they look as beautiful as they sound is the cherry on top. Be well.

Though I have heard thousands of guitar solos in my life, many intricate and complex beyond comprehension, not one has touched me more than this brief and mild work of Sonny Landreth. Please take time to view the video below, listen, feel, and enjoy…

January Punch…

Posted by Roy Cohen in 1 and tagged with Adaptation, Attitude, Benefit, Discipline, Essays, Exercise, Growth, Guilt, Ideas, Illness, Medicine, Missed Workouts, Personal Responsibility, Perspective, Philosophy, Ritual, Routines and Framework, Self-Loathing, Tips, Venting Middle-Aged Fitness Trainer Who Sometimes Needs A Drink February 16, 2012

I Skipped A Month

I train with weights 3-4 days per week. I commute by bicycle, 30 minutes each way, to and from work 6-7 days per week. Despite this, once per week I do a 3-5 mile run in town or on my treadmill – to keep my running legs in shape. On top of that, I join some of my like-minded beast friends every Sunday for a 4 mile trail hike/run up and down a very steep hill near town.

I do some form of intense exercise at least twice per day every day, and many days I get 3 or 4 rigorous workouts in. I move a lot, and I love it. I often say that exercise is the methadone of my existence. I need this. It keeps me from killing people. I missed a few recently – workouts that is. January punched me right in the mouth and I scarcely moved at all.

January 2 – January 8: In bed with the mother of all head colds.

January 16 – January 22: Emergency trip to Las Vegas to visit ill father.

January 23 – January 29: In bed with the mother of all flus.

January 30 – February 3: No workouts other than bike commute so I could make up for lost time with my business.

In all of January, I missed more scheduled exercise sessions than I have in the past three years combined. A few years ago this would have sent me into a bottomless depression spelled by moments of profound rage. But it’s all good.

Once Upon A Time In My Head

For most of my life I believed that those who loved me loved me for my biceps, my calves, my endurance, or for reasons related to my physical state of being. I also knew that if I missed even a single workout I would lose all of those physical attributes – instantly. Since I need to be loved, I worked non-stop at maintaining a high level of my physical being. Missing workouts was never an option. Sadly, I genuinely thought that way. I have come to learn, decades too late, that isn’t really true. Those who love me love me, those who hate me hate me, and that my look or my level of conditioning has had nothing to do with it.

Sick Call From A Friend

A friend on the other coast recently sent me an email asking my thoughts on working out sick. This was my response:

“Hi Julie –

An interesting day to have asked me this. I’m home in bed with a bad flu. I have been here all week. Earlier this month I was in bed with a severe cold. Between these and an emergency trip to Vegas to see my Dad, I haven’t worked out much in January. For me, that’s saying something.

There was a time when the workout (and progress from the workout) meant so much to me that unless I was dying, I would workout. Even if I was too sick to work, I would make time to workout. Though working out sick is always hard to initiate, when I have worked out sick I always felt better when I was done – like the sickness went away at least for a while. I remember once in a severe flu, getting up at 6am, getting on my stair-stepper and crashing through a hard hour. Felt great for the next few hours and then the flu had me down again until the next day.

Physiological perspective: I don’t recommend whether people should or should not workout sick. I only point out that exercise recovery divides the immune system and working out sick, though it may feel good, will likely cause the illness to linger longer and can have negative consequences. This becomes an individual choice; a game of trade-offs.

These days if I’m lightly sick, I lightly workout. If I’m heavily sick, I don’t workout at all. Age and wisdom I suppose….

Hope this helps

Roy”

Really, Think About It

In this obsessive arena we call “fitness” the consequences of a missed workout, or even a missed month of workouts, are not as substantial as we might believe. Nobody ever died from a missed workout. No relationship that ever mattered was affected by crunches not had. Checks don’t bounce because a run, a ride, or a swim didn’t happen for a day or even for a month. Continents won’t drift further apart for a lack of lunges, and world leaders aren’t overthrown due to a week of ice cream rather than a week of brown rice and broccoli.

Yes, I missed nearly a month of exercise and I ate like crap during that time. Two weeks back in, I am right where I left off when January punched me in the mouth. My daughter taunts me, my dog is still needy, my bills need to be paid, and my running and biking times and the amount of weight I lift are right back where they were 6 weeks ago.

Consistency in exercise is important whether one is seeking progress or maintenance. Consistency should be among the highest priorities. Life happens and sometimes consistency gets cut off. But like the tail of some kinds of lizards, consistency can grow right back. It’s not the end of the world. It’s not the end of your life. Get back up. Shake it off. Go for it again and grow some new consistency. I did, and still am. Be well. rc

Please check back in two weeks to see what comes out when I push the “stop” button on the blender in my head. Oh, and there is this from the Alabama Shakes. Enjoy…

Flight Paths…

Posted by Roy Cohen in 1 February 1, 2012

I am flying through life, cruising in a flight path between two other aircraft, each flying in opposite directions. Each one being piloted by two amazing flight instructors…

The Landing

I just had the last face to face conversation I will ever have with my father. He’ll be on hospice soon and though I’m not sure when he’ll go, I am certain we just met eye to eye for the final time. I’m back at my hotel now preparing to head back from Las Vegas to my home in San Diego in the morning. Our final conversation was not the best one my father and I ever had but it certainly was not the worst. There were smiles and humor.

My father is an airplane, descending and preparing for his final approach. It might be a bumpy landing, but it shouldn’t be a crash. As I left him this evening, I honored him with a warm kiss on the head, I told him that I love him, and I quickly swallowed some tears as I turned my back and walked away from him for the last time. My final memory of seeing my father alive will be one of seeing him in a wheelchair, eating a green Otter Pop, and arguing with his care giver about some little thing.

The Take Off

This morning, before I left to spend my final day with my father, I received and email from my daughter, now living in Athens, Greece. It was an upbeat correspondence. She shared a few stories with me full of local flavor, and she attached some pictures of the city. Not the touristy kind of pictures one might expect, but pictures of places which need to be sniffed out. My daughter has a good nose for, off the beaten path.

With clear skies and adventures ahead, the airplane of my daughter’s life is just taking off. Her course is upward and wide open. Brave, intelligent, and curious, my daughter’s flight through life will no doubt be scenic, perhaps a bit bumpy at times, and will be in great contrast to the flight of my father. She’s already a good pilot and getting better every year.

Cruising Altitude: Me, Part I

For my part, I am now in a flight pattern sandwiched somewhere between the flight paths of my father and my daughter. I am at the cruising altitude of life. Having flown small planes in real life, I can say that the cruising part is boring. Taking off and landing, that’s where the excitement is, and where the best lessons are learned. There is much though, that I can learn from observing the current flight paths of both my father and my daughter. Lessons which can help me steer a better course for the remainder of my trip; that I enjoy the views and have a quality landing with little regret.

I will try and learn from the examples my daughter sets before me, as well as to remember the examples my father had set. There is much wisdom from each. My father worked hard to provide me with a good life. He taught me much, and most of what I have today, I owe to my father’s hard work, love and dedication. But what I can learn from my daughter is invaluable because it’s fresh, sincere, and rooted in the infallible self-belief of her own free will and directionality.

Mulan On Steroids

She had planned to move from Chicago to Athens to study abroad for seven months. Things didn’t go so well on moving day. The day she was to depart for Athens, the company she had contracted to pick up and store her belongings did not come through. Rather than admit defeat and contact her friends or another moving company for help, my daughter took matters into her own hands; U-Haul.

She had rarely driven outside the suburban community where she grew up, Temecula, CA. She had never driven in the snow, had never driven anything larger than an economy car, and had never driven in the city. So when she found herself in a moving van, in downtown Chicago, in a snow storm, with just a few hours to spare to put all her furniture and belongings into storage and hop a plane to Greece, I cringed and I doubted severely. Despite my doubt, or perhaps because of it, she would move her entire 5^th story apartment in these conditions, by herself, and in just over a few hours – queen bed included. For all of her academic accomplishments, I saw this as her finest hour. She made the plane to Athens on time.

Cruising Altitude: Me, Part II

For nearly a year, I have been writing about making positive changes in my life – about taking back my potential – cutting out the drinking, eating completely clean, and avoiding the inherent turbulence on the flight path of life in modernity. Well, I haven’t done too well with that plan. I have simply cruised on autopilot, letting my momentum carry me forward from week to week. I have let momentum chart my course. With that lack of planning and discipline, I can’t believe I’m still airborne.

I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, but I am hopeful in the context this day – of seeing my daughter’s flight taking off, and my father’s flight landing, I will apply lessons from both journeys, that I make better choices for my own. At the very least, maybe I can avoid that dreaded “water landing”. Be well. rc

Please check back in two weeks to see what transpires when I push the “stop” button on the blender in my head. Oh, and there is this from Finger Eleven. Enjoy….

When My Team Doesn’t Suck, They Are Great!

Posted by Roy Cohen in 1 and tagged with Adaptation, Almost nothing to do with fitness, Americanness, Attitude, Being A Fan, Bronco Football, Change, Depression, Essays, Expectations, Faith, Family, Growth, It's Only A Game, Living In The Modern World, My Team Is Great, My Team Sucks, Pat Tillman, Perspective, Philosophy, Rage, Reflection, Ritual, Starting Fires And Tipping Over Cars, Super Bowl Losses, Super Bowl Wins, Venting Middle-Aged Fitness Trainer Who Sometimes Needs A Drink January 20, 2012

I Want My Spine, I Want My Orange Crush

In my 8^th grade year, 1977, I began the decades long process of suffering through four Super Bowl losses with my beloved Denver Broncos football team. As an adolescent watching the Broncos loose to the Dallas Cowboys in Super Bowl XII, I was devastated. That first Super Bowl loss led me to some of my earliest experiences with rage and real depression. Within a few days though, I was over it and was soon back to my life of being a smart ass kid and a poor student.

As a young adult I didn’t handle Denver’s Super Bowl and playoff losses nearly as well. Subsequent to each of the next three Super Bowl losses, and the multiple playoff losses through the 1980s and 1990s, there were always weeks of anger, rage, depression, and an accompanying persona of profound grumpitude. My friends and family didn’t like me much after those losses. Bronco football was more than entertainment or a distraction for me. My blood is orange and blue. When it came to wining the biggest game though, the Super Bowl, the Broncos treated me like a bed-wetting puppy and beat the love right out of me.

Elway Or The Highway

Twenty years after my first taste of a sports fan’s blues, the tide finally turned. In what we can all acknowledge as professional football’s finest hour, the Denver Broncos beat the Green Bay Packers in Super Bowl XXXII. When John Elway lowered his shoulder into the Green Bay secondary late in the 4^th quarter, it became clear that a team of destiny had just arrived. After that play, my wife had to stop my brother and me from going outside, starting fires, and tipping over cars – we were that excited.

Two days after Denver’s first Super Bowl victory, I had the pleasure of telling my 7-year old daughter there would be no school that day. Rather, we would spend the day on the streets of downtown Denver, celebrating the first Bronco Super Bowl victory with 500,000 of our closest friends – and we did. Not even Pope John Paul II attracted that many spectators for World Youth Day in Denver 5 years earlier. The Broncos victory parade outdrew the Pope! Yes, we are that religious about the Broncos in Denver.

A year later, Denver won the Super Bowl again and another parade was had. Soon after, John Elway would retire, there would be several significant player and coaching changes and Denver, a perennial playoff team, would settle into a decade’s worth of football mediocrity.

Nothing To Do With Tebow

Two weeks ago the Broncos beat the Pittsburgh Steelers in competitive yet convincing style, to advance in the AFC playoffs. It was the most exciting, and most important game Denver had played in 14 years. I wept after the game’s sudden-death overtime conclusion. I wept, not because the Broncos had won. Not because Tim Tebow had played the best game of his young career. I wept because I immediately envisioned my brother, now with school age children of his own, perhaps taking them to yet another Bronco Super Bowl parade. I wanted for his family, the joy I had shared with mine years earlier.

This past Saturday evening the Broncos were easily dismantled by the New England Patriots. I could see the game was over within the first 5 minutes. As the game continued it got exponentially worse. “Exponentially worse”, to quote Lewis Black, means to get “crappier and crappier and crappier”. As the impending loss grew more evident, I got better and better with it. There was a bit of sadness to be sure, but unlike the playoff and Super Bowl losses of my young adult life which depressed me and affected me to the point of outright temper tantrums, I was good with this loss immediately.

Why The Change In Attitude…?

Was I less of a fan now? Was I better at managing stress? Did I simply have too many other things going on in my life to be upset by bad football anymore? The answer to each of these is a partial yes. But I am still a Denver Bronco fan. I have worn my Broncos hoody almost every day this season. I love my team. The reasons I got good with the Bronco loss so quickly are thus; age and perspective. Age has provided me time to develop perspective.

From Orton to Tebow, I wore this every single day...

Much has happened since Denver won Super Bowl XXXII. The illnesses and unexpected deaths of several good friends have happened. 9/11 happened. A couple of unnecessary wars happened. Terror attacks all over the world happened. Partisan politics has increased. The combat death of soldier and former NFL player, Pat Tillman happened. That one is worth repeating; the combat death of soldier and former NFL player, Pat Tillman happened.

In short, I was quick to remember that football is only a game. It’s only a game. I have heard that tired cliché so many times in my life as a sports fan, but I have never truly felt it until this week. As the defeated Broncos walked off the field in Foxborough, MA last Saturday evening, I was able to feel that it’s only a game. As I let the sadness fall away, and as I continued to watch the players walk off the field, I thought of my father, also a Bronco fan.

Though my father had planned to watch the Broncos play the Patriots, he could not. A few days earlier, he suffered a heart attack and was in the ICU of a Las Vegas hospital. He is also battling pneumonia and weak kidneys. It’s only a game. Though his condition is improving, I am grateful my father was unable to watch the Broncos lose. Also a Bronco fan, I’m not sure his heart would not have survived this loss. It’s only a game Dad, it’s only a game. Be well. rc

Please check back in two weeks to see what comes out when I hit the “stop” button on the blender of my head. Oh, and there is this from Little Feat, enjoy…

Idea Handlers…

Posted by Roy Cohen in 1 and tagged with Adaptation, Almost nothing to do with fitness, Americanness, Attitude, Driving And Texting, Essays, Expectations, Getting Hoodwinked, Handling Ideas, Humans As Idea Handlers, Ideas, Living In The Modern World, Memes, Obesity, Personal Responsibility, Perspective, Philosophy, Ritual, Routines and Framework, Stupidity, The future, Unintended Consequnces, Venting Middle-aged Fitness Trainer Who No Longer Needs A Drink, Youth Sports January 5, 2012

First Hopes

I doubt there are many new parents who hope their children will grow up to be out shape and unintelligent. So to avoid obesity and stupidity, we immediately place our children into structure. From their earliest days we expose our children to school and to sports – keep ‘em off the streets kinda stuff. School is required by law. Sport is required by the law of perceived status. So it begins; formation by institutionalization. It’s hard to argue against structure. I mean, everything we have as a society we owe to structure, I guess…

I often say that worst unintended consequence of advancement is… a lack of advancement. And though keeping our children embedded in structure is a good idea, some good ideas often clash with other good ideas, choking out better ideas still. As a species, I’m not so sure we’re very good handlers of good ideas.

When Structure Gives Way To Structure: Back Seat Homework

A weary child sits in the back seat of an SUV while mom navigates the fast food drive through. The child is sweaty but cooling off. He is perhaps 7 or 15 years old, or any age in-between. Dressed in his team uniform, having just left the game or the practice that took place right after school, his mom orders their dinner into the microphone at the base of the menu display.

Only partially exhausted, they head now to the next game or practice of this two-sport athlete. The child stares at a schoolbook on one knee, perhaps taking notes on a spiral notebook balanced on the other knee. This is the room where homework is done – the back seat of the car. Beside him is the other uniform, the one he will change into for the next game or practice he will be attending. He fuels his body with a #6 value meal while mom continues driving and texting.

What Gets Lost In The Balancing Act

He may be playing for the love of the games. He may be playing because his parents would rather see him in sports than in front of the TV. One of these sports may be the child’s future – his ticket into college or scholarship money. Regardless of whose choice it is or why, I’ll suggest that many children will only tell their parents what they think they want to hear about all of this. And many parents will only tell their children what they should believe about all of this. I’ll suggest though, that there is probably not as much fruitful discourse as there should be about all of this.

Leadership, listening, learning, and respect; these all important virtues learned from the structure of youth sports. I believe in youth sports. I have played them and I have coached them. I have also spent a great deal of time listening to prep athletes and their views on all of this, as I help them become better at their sports. As well, I have listened to a lot of their parent’s views on all of this as I help them become more fit adults. When I attempt to correlate some of these conversations, between parent view and athlete view, they don’t always jive.

Make no mistake I have seen some teenagers handle this multi-sport lifestyle with grace and academic success, as well as success in their sport. But from my view, it’s not usually this way. Many who live this life are weary, socially awkward, and conflicted with their parents about how their lives should be lived.

And It’s Not Just Sports

I used youth sports here because it’s something I’m close to by way of how I earn my living. But this kind of overload is widespread. It is clubs too; music, drama, and other activities – any avenues which offer the structure that the parents may not be willing to create, implement, or foster themselves. I mean, we all know that without an overload of structure, our children become junkies and thieves, yes…?

What Gets Missed

“I can’t remember the last time I ate a home cooked meal.”

Those words were spoken to me last year by an athlete I do strength and conditioning work with. She continued that when she did eat at home, meals always came from a can or box, and that she felt the drive-through food was usually better tasting and healthier.

As parents we emphasize college and we emphasize activity – and it’s important that we do, especially when we view the children of parents who don’t emphasize these. I am wondering more and more though, as good ideas clash with other good ideas, canceling out other ideas still, when will we begin to emphasize home cooked meals, homework done at a desk, time to play and be social, as well as time to veg…? The beast of structure has been let out, he’s hungry, and he feeds on families. As a species, I’m just not sure we are good idea handlers. Some food for thought… Be well.

Please check back in two weeks for more thoughts on the philosophy behind the fitness. Oh, and there is this from Slightly Stoopid. Enjoy…

I Am Not A Doctor…

Posted by Roy Cohen in 1 and tagged with Adaptation, Arguing, Attitude, Benefit, Break-ups, Change, Ego, Essays, Exercise, Expectations, Getting Hoodwinked, Growth, Guilt, Injuries, Living In The Modern World, Medicine, Personal Responsibility, Perspective, Reflection, Ritual, Strength, Tears, Venting Middle-aged Fitness Trainer Who Needs A Drink December 26, 2011

I Was Wrong

I crossed a line with her I had no business crossing. It was painful – an emotional disembowelment for each. I didn’t realize how severe my blunder was until she began crying, left the room and got in her car to drive away. Following her, not wanting her to leave, I dropped to my knees beside her sports car and begged her through the closed window to come back inside and talk things out. Voices escalated. I began crying, she still crying. Through the glass for nearly 10 minutes we would exchange strong opinions about what just went wrong. Outsiders in the area began to look on.

The relationship seemed to be over and it was over and it was my fault. I kept asking her to come back inside to discuss how we could fix this. In a moment of weakness she obliged me, exited the car, and followed me back inside where we would survive a raw discussion. No, this was not a girlfriend. This was a client, and a dear one at that. In one escalated moment, I saw my entire business flash before my eyes. But it was the friendship I wanted to salvage.

What Went Wrong; Ideals, Opinions, And Ethics

I teach exercise in a very specific way, from a narrow but sturdy value set, with an absolute belief that done properly and consistently, strength training is great medicine for nearly any ailment – even those that might push one away from the idea of strength training. She had an injury. I was trying to help. I recommended a doctor to her. Our fight began when I disagreed with the lack of diagnosis and lack of remedies prescribed by the very doctor I had recommended.

My client suggested the course of non-action recommended by the doctor might be best. I disagreed. I’m not a doctor and I never attempt to act as one with my clients. That’s not true. Every week of my life I utter this phrase;

“My non medical opinion is…”

And though I may feel I’m always right in my rightness, I am always wrong to contradict a doctor because being a doctor is a legitimate profession. Being a fitness trainer is a novelty career at best. I mean, trainers are all just gymopotamuses who don’t want to get real jobs, yes…?

I believe there are many doctors who are strangers to the gym. Those who might be gym savvy, might not be as savvy as they think. My experience has been that many physicians equate technique in exercises such as squats, lunges, leg extensions and leg presses, to the typical gym rat trying to push too hard, too heavy and do too much. Because of this mind-set, I have experienced a tendency for physicians to tell patients to avoid such movements with regard to knee injuries.

In somewhat of a renaissance, a new breed of physician and physical therapist tend to embrace the afore mentioned movements more, suggesting that done properly and not pushed they might, if not help the injury, serve to strengthen the area around the injury and offer it more support to the joint. That of course is relative to what the injury might be, and its severity. But even at the highest levels of medicine, there is no shortage of conflicting ideas, opinions, and agenda.

Brand Loyalty

Ironically, the client in question provided me with a pivotal perspective on my business last year. We were on the topic of other trainers when she used the term “brand loyalty” in the context of me. Though I am unique in how I approach and teach strength training, as well in how I conduct relationships with my clients, I had never thought of myself as a brand before. That meant a great deal to me. I had come to appreciate her more for appreciating me in that context. Since that time I have walked a little taller.

In truth, I have always felt infallible in this. I teach strength training safely and I construct workouts sensibly. I have often been quick to tell clients that, one-on-one, I’m the best trainer I have ever known. Not the most knowledgeable. Not the best built trainer. But I’m the best I’ve seen at teaching form, and the best communicator of how and of why – and I stand with that.

One Man’s Passion; Doh!

If I see utility in something, I can’t imagine anyone else not seeing it. But life isn’t like that. Throughout my fitness career I have always believed I could teach people to see and appreciate the utility of my brand of exercise. That’s where I have been wrong. I will learn to accept it – that my passion is my passion. Even if my passion can be transported, it might not be received. This will take some humility and learning on my part, but it will be a priority in the future of my business psyche. Also, I will learn to accept that at the end of the day, I have an ethical responsibility to always say the doctor is right, even when I believe he is not.

To the client in question; I thank you for giving me a chance to earn back your trust. I will open my ears as well as my mind a little wider, and consider myself better for the lesson learned. Be well. rc

Oh, and there is this from the short-lived Chicago based band, Piglet. Enjoy…

An Open Letter To Leaders In The Fitness Community….

Posted by Roy Cohen in 1 and tagged with Adaptation, Almost nothing to do with fitness, Americanness, Arogance, Attitude, Change, Exercise, Expectations, Faith, Falseness, Fitness, Getting Hoodwinked, Growth, Humility, Ideas, Leadership, Living In The Modern World, Memes, Personal Responsibility, Perspective, Philosophy, Reflection, Royisms, The future, Tips, Venting Middle-aged Fitness Trainer Who No Longer Needs A Drink May 10, 2013

Dear Fitness Leaders,

Congratulations, you are a leader in the fitness industry – I bow down. Whether you lead by the dozen, or lead by the millions, the eyes of your followers are on you. Please keep in mind though, that the eyes that follow those who follow you, are also on you.

Whether you are new to fitness as a career, or you are one of the many established “experts” in the field, please allow me to share my thoughts with you, on how to better conduct yourself in an industry that isn’t just evolving, but one that is ~~erupting~~ vomiting its way into chaotic advancement.

Don’t forsake the trust that got you where you are…

Understand that when people choose to follow you, right off the bat, they have given you something sacred, and something that should be most coveted by you – they have given you their trust. Nurturing that trust may be the key to both longevity, and respect in your fitness career. I’ll suggest that your career will be only as fulfilling as your respect for that trust goes.

You can use the trust of those who follow you to advance your career. Or, you can use the trust of others as an opportunity to grow with them, to learn more on their behalf, and to advance the causes of fitness as a whole. I think this is a good way to be.

People have chosen you. Regardless of their reasons for that choice, they have placed their trust in you. They hear the words you speak, they read the words you write, and they retain the actions they witness from you. If you’re going to lead, lead with honest words, honest actions, and humility.

If you refer to your followers as disciples, I’m asking you right now to wear a tin foil hat so I know who you are.

~~Shut The Fuck Up~~ Settle down Francis…

Making noise and rattling cages to prove yourself right is only slightly less savory than making noise and rattling cages to prove others wrong. You may be wise. You may be educated. You may be experienced. You may be all of the above, or some combination, and you may even be right. You don’t however, always have to establish yourself as right.

It’s actually not too hard to be right, and to be quiet – simultaneously. This skill will serve you well in your career.

Don’t just lead, support…

Don’t lose sight that among our primary roles in this industry is the role of being a support system for those who follow us.

To properly lead, it’s not enough to just point and say, go! It’s of greater importance to understand the horizon from the vantage point of those furthest back. Remember to stand beside those who follow you at the most critical times, maintaining awareness and respect of the differences between their view of what’s ahead, and your own view.

Ideally, the best support system a student or follower will have will be their friends and family. Too often though, this proves not to be the case. Though it’s not possible to be emotionally available to all of your students, all of the time, I’ll suggest you strive to be as available as you can be when needed – and you will be needed. This will go a long way in helping them fulfill their goals.

Lead by example…

As a leader in my own community, I strive to ensure that I lead by example. Some days that example is better than others, but I live with the knowledge that the eyes of my community are continually on me. Whether I am in a grocery store, a restaurant, an athletic field, or a bar, my community is watching.

Though I often joke that at the end of the day it’s all about Roy, at the end of the day I know this is not really true.

At the beginning of the day, fitness leadership is about sharing. At the end of the day, it’s all about reflecting, to better share the following day what I have learned today. In-between the beginning and the end of the day, fitness leadership is about many things, but above all else, it’s setting good examples.

You’re not that grand, and neither is your idea of fitness…

It’ pretty easy to believe, and subsequently suggest that being “fit” is the right way to be and to live. Fit, at best, as a vague term which can mean many things.

Too often leaders in the fitness community strive to pass off their own fitness values as an improvement to someone else’s life. I have been guilty of this myself. Often times what we pass off as fitness can be detrimental to longevity and physicality. This is something I continually struggle in coming to terms with.

Just because I can do something, doesn’t mean I should do it – or that it’s going to help me live longer and better. Notwithstanding, suggesting that others do it may be detrimental to their physicality, their longevity, and their health.

Circles beyond our own…

There many people in the world who never formally exercise or eat “clean”. There people who could care less about a lunge, a set of repetitions, a chicken salad, or a WOD.

There are many people who are content with who they are and have no desire to look like an action figure. There are even people who are obese and okay with it, as there are people who are out of shape and okay with. There are people who live to eat, and not eat to live as we always suggest.

That those people don’t play in our fitness circles makes them no less valid, no less worthy, and no less of a person. I know of many great people doing amazing things in the world who eat Pop-Tarts, tater-tots, and other hyphenated non-foods.

I know of family leaders, business leaders, community leaders, and just plain salt of the earth folks who could give a frog’s fat ass about what we think is so important in the name of fitness.

I’ll finish by suggesting that each of you step back, take a good distant look at you consider fitness to mean. Then, take a good distant look at the rest of the world and consider, for just a moment, what they might believe fitness to mean.

From this perspective, to truly quantify and establish how exercise may benefit someone’s life – how it may benefit society as a whole, is much harder than science has lead us to believe. In fact, it’s not possible. And you, you little fitness expert, are no more of a spec on the ass of humanity than I am, and please never forget that.

Go now. Mount your high horse and charge on!

Sincerely,
Aggressively Humble Guy

PS: If you are a political, business, or spiritual leader, same shit goes for you. rc

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Please check back in 2 weeks to see what happens when I hit the “stop” button on the blender in my head. Oh, and there is this from Los Lobos. Enjoy…

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