The New York Fitness Institute

Saturn...

2009-10-07T09:57:00.001-01:00

(photo courtesy of www.nasa.gov)

They just found a NEW ring around Saturn. It is so big, it would take 1-BILLION Earths to fill. WOW!

WOD...

10 Rounds of:

24kg KB Swing x 7

Sprint 60m

Rest 1:45

World's Longest Dunk...

2009-10-01T15:29:00.000-01:00

WOD

5 Rounds for time of:

50 double-unders

15 pullups

sooooo....

2009-09-14T12:54:00.000-01:00

Having a baby is bad for blogging.

I have been tired and preoccupied lately. But now I am back.

First of all, thanks to Newley for this sweet link. wow, that's an amazing collection - a true Star Wars FREAK!

Now for the workout. Since we are just getting back to things, we are gonna take it easier.

WOD...

7 Rounds of:

Row 250m

Rest 2:00

Press

125# x 5 x 5

some light reading...

2009-08-22T12:44:00.003-01:00

Hopefully I won't get sued for posting this, my favorite short story from my favorite writer. Pushkin's "The Shot" is pure genius. I won't spoil it by telling you something when someone else can say it better:

Just in case, here's the website i copied this from: http://www.classicreader.com/book/2194/1/

CHAPTER I.

We were stationed in the little town of N--. The life of an officer in the army is well known. In the morning, drill and the riding-school; dinner with the Colonel or at a Jewish restaurant; in the evening, punch and cards. In N--- there was not one open house, not a single marriageable girl. We used to meet in each other's rooms, where, except our uniforms, we never saw anything.

One civilian only was admitted into our society. He was about thirty- five years of age, and therefore we looked upon him as an old fellow. His experience gave him great advantage over us, and his habitual taciturnity, stern disposition, and caustic tongue produced a deep impression upon our young minds. Some mystery surrounded his existence; he had the appearance of a Russian, although his name was a foreign one. He had formerly served in the Hussars, and with distinction. Nobody knew the cause that had induced him to retire from the service and settle in a wretched little village, where he lived poorly and, at the same time, extravagantly. He always went on foot, and constantly wore a shabby black overcoat, but the officers of our regiment were ever welcome at his table. His dinners, it is true, never consisted of more than two or three dishes, prepared by a retired soldier, but the champagne flowed like water. Nobody knew what his circumstances were, or what his income was, and nobody dared to question him about them. He had a collection of books, consisting chiefly of works on military matters and a few novels. He willingly lent them to us to read, and never asked for them back; on the other hand, he never returned to the owner the books that were lent to him. His principal amusement was shooting with a pistol. The walls of his room were riddled with bullets, and were as full of holes as a honeycomb. A rich collection of pistols was the only luxury in the humble cottage where he lived. The skill which he had acquired with his favorite weapon was simply incredible: and if he had offered to shoot a pear off somebody's forage-cap, not a man in our regiment would have hesitated to place the object upon his head.

Our conversation often turned upon duels. Silvio--so I will call him-- never joined in it. When asked if he had ever fought, he dryly replied that he had; but he entered into no particulars, and it was evident that such questions were not to his liking. We came to the conclusion that he had upon his conscience the memory of some unhappy victim of his terrible skill. Moreover, it never entered into the head of any of us to suspect him of anything like cowardice. There are persons whose mere look is sufficient to repel such a suspicion. But an unexpected incident occurred which astounded us all.

One day, about ten of our officers dined with Silvio. They drank as usual, that is to say, a great deal. After dinner we asked our host to hold the bank for a game at faro. For a long time he refused, for he hardly ever played, but at last he ordered cards to be brought, placed half a hundred ducats upon the table, and sat down to deal. We took our places round him, and the play began. It was Silvio's custom to preserve a complete silence when playing. He never disputed, and never entered into explanations. If the punter made a mistake in calculating, he immediately paid him the difference or noted down the surplus. We were acquainted with this habit of his, and we always allowed him to have his own way; but among us on this occasion was an officer who had only recently been transferred to our regiment. During the course of the game, this officer absently scored one point too many. Silvio took the chalk and noted down the correct account according to his usual custom. The officer, thinking that he had made a mistake, began to enter into explanations. Silvio continued dealing in silence. The officer, losing patience, took the brush and rubbed out what he considered was wrong. Silvio took the chalk and corrected the score again. The officer, heated with wine, play, and the laughter of his comrades, considered himself grossly insulted, and in his rage he seized a brass candlestick from the table, and hurled it at Silvio, who barely succeeded in avoiding the missile. We were filled with consternation. Silvio rose, white with rage, and with gleaming eyes, said:

"My dear sir, have the goodness to withdraw, and thank God that this has happened in my house."

None of us entertained the slightest doubt as to what the result would be, and we already looked upon our new comrade as a dead man. The officer withdrew, saying that he was ready to answer for his offence in whatever way the banker liked. The play went on for a few minutes longer, but feeling that our host was no longer interested in the game, we withdrew one after the other, and repaired to our respective quarters, after having exchanged a few words upon the probability of there soon being a vacancy in the regiment.

The next day, at the riding-school, we were already asking each other if the poor lieutenant was still alive, when he himself appeared among us. We put the same question to him, and he replied that he had not yet heard from Silvio. This astonished us. We went to Silvio's house and found him in the courtyard shooting bullet after bullet into an ace pasted upon the gate. He received us as usual, but did not utter a word about the event of the previous evening. Three days passed, and the lieutenant was still alive. We asked each other in astonishment: "Can it be possible that Silvio is not going to fight?"

Silvio did not fight. He was satisfied with a very lame explanation, and became reconciled to his assailant.

This lowered him very much in the opinion of all our young fellows. Want of courage is the last thing to be pardoned by young men, who usually look upon bravery as the chief of all human virtues, and the excuse for every possible fault. But, by degrees, everything became forgotten, and Silvio regained his former influence.

I alone could not approach him on the old footing. Being endowed by nature with a romantic imagination, I had become attached more than all the others to the man whose life was an enigma, and who seemed to me the hero of some mysterious drama. He was fond of me; at least, with me alone did he drop his customary sarcastic tone, and converse on different subjects in a simple and unusually agreeable manner. But after this unlucky evening, the thought that his honor had been tarnished, and that the stain had been allowed to remain upon it in accordance with his own wish, was ever present in my mind, and prevented me treating him as before. I was ashamed to look at him. Silvio was too intelligent and experienced not to observe this and guess the cause of it. This seemed to vex him; at least I observed once or twice a desire on his part to enter into an explanation with me, but I avoided such opportunities, and Silvio gave up the attempt. From that time forward I saw him only in the presence of my comrades, and our confidential conversations came to an end.

The inhabitants of the capital, with minds occupied by so many matters of business and pleasure, have no idea of the many sensations so familiar to the inhabitants of villages and small towns, as, for instance, the awaiting the arrival of the post. On Tuesdays and Fridays our regimental bureau used to be filled with officers: some expecting money, some letters, and others newspapers. The packets were usually opened on the spot, items of news were communicated from one to another, and the bureau used to present a very animated picture. Silvio used to have his letters addressed to our regiment, and he was generally there to receive them.

One day he received a letter, the seal of which he broke with a look of great impatience. As he read the contents, his eyes sparkled. The officers, each occupied with his own letters, did not observe anything.

"Gentlemen," said Silvio, "circumstances demand my immediate departure; I leave to-night. I hope that you will not refuse to dine with me for the last time. I shall expect you, too," he added, turning towards me. "I shall expect you without fail."

With these words he hastily departed, and we, after agreeing to meet at Silvio's, dispersed to our various quarters.

I arrived at Silvio's house at the appointed time, and found nearly the whole regiment there. All his things were already packed; nothing remained but the bare, bullet-riddled walls. We sat down to table. Our host was in an excellent humor, and his gayety was quickly communicated to the rest. Corks popped every moment, glasses foamed incessantly, and, with the utmost warmth, we wished our departing friend a pleasant journey and every happiness. When we rose from the table it was already late in the evening. After having wished everybody good-bye, Silvio took me by the hand and detained me just at the moment when I was preparing to depart.

"I want to speak to you," he said in a low voice.

I stopped behind.

The guests had departed, and we two were left alone. Sitting down opposite each other, we silently lit our pipes. Silvio seemed greatly troubled; not a trace remained of his former convulsive gayety. The intense pallor of his face, his sparkling eyes, and the thick smoke issuing from his mouth, gave him a truly diabolical appearance. Several minutes elapsed, and then Silvio broke the silence.

"Perhaps we shall never see each other again," said he; "before we part, I should like to have an explanation with you. You may have observed that I care very little for the opinion of other people, but I like you, and I feel that it would be painful to me to leave you with a wrong impression upon your mind."

He paused, and began to knock the ashes out of his pipe. I sat gazing silently at the ground.

"You thought it strange," he continued, "that I did not demand satisfaction from that drunken idiot R---. You will admit, however, that having the choice of weapons, his life was in my hands, while my own was in no great danger. I could ascribe my forbearance to generosity alone, but I will not tell a lie. If I could have chastised R---without the least risk to my own life, I should never have pardoned him."

I looked at Silvio with astonishment. Such a confession completely astounded me. Silvio continued:

"Exactly so: I have no right to expose myself to death. Six years ago I received a slap in the face, and my enemy still lives."

My curiosity was greatly excited.

"Did you not fight with him?" I asked. "Circumstances probably separated you."

"I did fight with him," replied Silvio; "and here is a souvenir of our duel."

Silvio rose and took from a cardboard box a red cap with a gold tassel and embroidery (what the French call a bonnet de police); he put it on-- a bullet had passed through it about an inch above the forehead.

"You know," continued Silvio, "that I served in one of the Hussar regiments. My character is well known to you: I am accustomed to taking the lead. From my youth this has been my passion. In our time dissoluteness was the fashion, and I was the most outrageous man in the army. We used to boast of our drunkenness; I beat in a drinking bout the famous Bourtsoff [Footnote: A cavalry officer, notorious for his drunken escapades], of whom Denis Davidoff [Footnote: A military poet who flourished in the reign of Alexander I] has sung. Duels in our regiment were constantly taking place, and in all of them I was either second or principal. My comrades adored me, while the regimental commanders, who were constantly being changed, looked upon me as a necessary evil.

"I was calmly enjoying my reputation, when a young man belonging to a wealthy and distinguished family--I will not mention his name--joined our regiment. Never in my life have I met with such a fortunate fellow! Imagine to yourself youth, wit, beauty, unbounded gayety, the most reckless bravery, a famous name, untold wealth--imagine all these, and you can form some idea of the effect that he would be sure to produce among us. My supremacy was shaken. Dazzled by my reputation, he began to seek my friendship, but I received him coldly, and without the least regret he held aloof from me. I took a hatred to him. His success in the regiment and in the society of ladies brought me to the verge of despair. I began to seek a quarrel with him; to my epigrams he replied with epigrams which always seemed to me more spontaneous and more cutting than mine, and which were decidedly more amusing, for he joked while I fumed. At last, at a ball given by a Polish landed proprietor, seeing him the object of the attention of all the ladies, and especially of the mistress of the house, with whom I was upon very good terms, I whispered some grossly insulting remark in his ear. He flamed up and gave me a slap in the face. We grasped our swords; the ladies fainted; we were separated; and that same night we set out to fight.

"The dawn was just breaking. I was standing at the appointed place with my three seconds. With inexplicable impatience I awaited my opponent. The spring sun rose, and it was already growing hot. I saw him coming in the distance. He was walking on foot, accompanied by one second. We advanced to meet him. He approached, holding his cap filled with black cherries. The seconds measured twelve paces for us. I had to fire first, but my agitation was so great, that I could not depend upon the steadiness of my hand; and in order to give myself time to become calm, I ceded to him the first shot. My adversary would not agree to this. It was decided that we should cast lots. The first number fell to him, the constant favorite of fortune. He took aim, and his bullet went through my cap. It was now my turn. His life at last was in my hands; I looked at him eagerly, endeavoring to detect if only the faintest shadow of uneasiness. But he stood in front of my pistol, picking out the ripest cherries from his cap and spitting out the stones, which flew almost as far as my feet. His indifference annoyed me beyond measure. 'What is the use,' thought I, 'of depriving him of life, when he attaches no value whatever to it?' A malicious thought flashed through my mind. I lowered my pistol.

"'You don't seem to be ready for death just at present,' I said to him: 'you wish to have your breakfast; I do not wish to hinder you.'

"'You are not hindering me in the least,' replied he. 'Have the goodness to fire, or just as you please--the shot remains yours; I shall always be ready at your service.'

"I turned to the seconds, informing them that I had no intention of firing that day, and with that the duel came to an end."

"I resigned my commission and retired to this little place. Since then not a day has passed that I have not thought of revenge. And now my hour has arrived."

Silvio took from his pocket the letter that he had received that morning, and gave it to me to read. Some one (it seemed to be his business agent) wrote to him from Moscow, that a CERTAIN PERSON was going to be married to a young and beautiful girl.

"You can guess," said Silvio, "who the certain person is. I am going to Moscow. We shall see if he will look death in the face with as much indifference now, when he is on the eve of being married, as he did once with his cherries!"

With these words, Silvio rose, threw his cap upon the floor, and began pacing up and down the room like a tiger in his cage. I had listened to him in silence; strange conflicting feelings agitated me.

The servant entered and announced that the horses were ready. Silvio grasped my hand tightly, and we embraced each other. He seated himself in his telega, in which lay two trunks, one containing his pistols, the other his effects. We said good-bye once more, and the horses galloped off.

CHAPTER II.

Several years passed, and family circumstances compelled me to settle in the poor little village of M---. Occupied with agricultural pursuits, I ceased not to sigh in secret for my former noisy and careless life. The most difficult thing of all was having to accustom myself to passing the spring and winter evenings in perfect solitude. Until the hour for dinner I managed to pass away the time somehow or other, talking with the bailiff, riding about to inspect the work, or going round to look at the new buildings; but as soon as it began to get dark, I positively did not know what to do with myself. The few books that I had found in the cupboards and storerooms I already knew by heart. All the stories that my housekeeper Kirilovna could remember I had heard over and over again. The songs of the peasant women made me feel depressed. I tried drinking spirits, but it made my head ache; and moreover, I confess I was afraid of becoming a drunkard from mere chagrin, that is to say, the saddest kind of drunkard, of which I had seen many examples in our district.

I had no near neighbors, except two or three topers, whose conversation consisted for the most part of hiccups and sighs. Solitude was preferable to their society. At last I decided to go to bed as early as possible, and to dine as late as possible; in this way I shortened the evening and lengthened out the day, and I found that the plan answered very well.

Four versts from my house was a rich estate belonging to the Countess B- --; but nobody lived there except the steward. The Countess had only visited her estate once, in the first year of her married life, and then she had remained there no longer than a month. But in the second spring of my hermitical life a report was circulated that the Countess, with her husband, was coming to spend the summer on her estate. The report turned out to be true, for they arrived at the beginning of June.

The arrival of a rich neighbor is an important event in the lives of country people. The landed proprietors and the people of their households talk about it for two months beforehand and for three years afterwards. As for me, I must confess that the news of the arrival of a young and beautiful neighbor affected me strongly. I burned with impatience to see her, and the first Sunday after her arrival I set out after dinner for the village of A---, to pay my respects to the Countess and her husband, as their nearest neighbor and most humble servant. A lackey conducted me into the Count's study, and then went to announce me. The spacious apartment was furnished with every possible luxury. Around the walls were cases filled with books and surmounted by bronze busts; over the marble mantelpiece was a large mirror; on the floor was a green cloth covered with carpets. Unaccustomed to luxury in my own poor corner, and not having seen the wealth of other people for a long time, I awaited the appearance of the Count with some little trepidation, as a suppliant from the provinces awaits the arrival of the minister. The door opened, and a handsome-looking man, of about thirty- two years of age, entered the room. The Count approached me with a frank and friendly air; I endeavored to be self-possessed and began to introduce myself, but he anticipated me. We sat down. His conversation, which was easy and agreeable, soon dissipated my awkward bashfulness; and I was already beginning to recover my usual composure, when the Countess suddenly entered, and I became more confused than ever. She was indeed beautiful. The Count presented me. I wished to appear at ease, but the more I tried to assume an air of unconstraint, the more awkward I felt. They, in order to give me time to recover myself and to become accustomed to my new acquaintances, began to talk to each other, treating me as a good neighbor, and without ceremony. Meanwhile, I walked about the room, examining the books and pictures. I am no judge of pictures, but one of them attracted my attention. It represented some view in Switzerland, but it was not the painting that struck me, but the circumstance that the canvas was shot through by two bullets, one planted just above the other.

"A good shot that!" said I, turning to the Count.

"Yes," replied he, "a very remarkable shot.... Do you shoot well?" he continued.

"Tolerably," replied I, rejoicing that the conversation had turned at last upon a subject that was familiar to me. "At thirty paces I can manage to hit a card without fail,--I mean, of course, with a pistol that I am used to."

"Really?" said the Countess, with a look of the greatest interest. "And you, my dear, could you hit a card at thirty paces?"

"Some day," replied the Count, "we will try. In my time I did not shoot badly, but it is now four years since I touched a pistol."

"Oh!" I observed, "in that case, I don't mind laying a wager that Your Excellency will not hit the card at twenty paces; the pistol demands practice every day. I know that from experience. In our regiment I was reckoned one of the best shots. It once happened that I did not touch a pistol for a whole month, as I had sent mine to be mended; and would you believe it, Your Excellency, the first time I began to shoot again, I missed a bottle four times in succession at twenty paces. Our captain, a witty and amusing fellow, happened to be standing by, and he said to me: 'It is evident, my friend, that your hand will not lift itself against the bottle.' No, Your Excellency, you must not neglect to practise, or your hand will soon lose its cunning. The best shot that I ever met used to shoot at least three times every day before dinner. It was as much his custom to do this as it was to drink his daily glass of brandy."

The Count and Countess seemed pleased that I had begun to talk.

"And what sort of a shot was he?" asked the Count.

"Well, it was this way with him, Your Excellency: if he saw a fly settle on the wall--you smile, Countess, but, before Heaven, it is the truth-- if he saw a fly, he would call out: 'Kouzka, my pistol!' Kouzka would bring him a loaded pistol--bang! and the fly would be crushed against the wall."

"Wonderful!" said the Count. "And what was his name?"

"Silvio, Your Excellency."

"Silvio!" exclaimed the Count, starting up. "Did you know Silvio?"

"How could I help knowing him, Your Excellency: we were intimate friends; he was received in our regiment like a brother officer, but it is now five years since I had any tidings of him. Then Your Excellency also knew him?"

"Oh, yes, I knew him very well. Did he ever tell you of one very strange incident in his life?"

"Does Your Excellency refer to the slap in the face that he received from some blackguard at a ball?"

"Did he tell you the name of this blackguard?"

"No, Your Excellency, he never mentioned his name,... Ah! Your Excellency!" I continued, guessing the truth: "pardon me... I did not know... could it really have been you?"

"Yes, I myself," replied the Count, with a look of extraordinary agitation; "and that bullet-pierced picture is a memento of our last meeting."

"Ah, my dear," said the Countess, "for Heaven's sake, do not speak about that; it would be too terrible for me to listen to."

"No," replied the Count: "I will relate everything. He knows how I insulted his friend, and it is only right that he should know how Silvio revenged himself."

The Count pushed a chair towards me, and with the liveliest interest I listened to the following story:

"Five years ago I got married. The first month--the honeymoon--I spent here, in this village. To this house I am indebted for the happiest moments of my life, as well as for one of its most painful recollections.

"One evening we went out together for a ride on horseback. My wife's horse became restive; she grew frightened, gave the reins to me, and returned home on foot. I rode on before. In the courtyard I saw a travelling carriage, and I was told that in my study sat waiting for me a man, who would not give his name, but who merely said that he had business with me. I entered the room and saw in the darkness a man, covered with dust and wearing a beard of several days' growth. He was standing there, near the fireplace. I approached him, trying to remember his features.

"'You do not recognize me, Count?' said he, in a quivering voice.

"'Silvio!' I cried, and I confess that I felt as if my hair had suddenly stood on end.

"'Exactly,' continued he. 'There is a shot due to me, and I have come to discharge my pistol. Are you ready?'

"His pistol protruded from a side pocket. I measured twelve paces and took my stand there in that corner, begging him to fire quickly, before my wife arrived. He hesitated, and asked for a light. Candles were brought in. I closed the doors, gave orders that nobody was to enter, and again begged him to fire. He drew out his pistol and took aim.... I counted the seconds.... I thought of her.... A terrible minute passed! Silvio lowered his hand.

"'I regret,' said he, 'that the pistol is not loaded with cherry- stones... the bullet is heavy. It seems to me that this is not a duel, but a murder. I am not accustomed to taking aim at unarmed men. Let us begin all over again; we will cast lots as to who shall fire first.'

"My head went round... I think I raised some objection.... At last we loaded another pistol, and rolled up two pieces of paper. He placed these latter in his cap--the same through which I had once sent a bullet--and again I drew the first number.

"'You are devilish lucky, Count,' said he, with a smile that I shall never forget.

"I don't know what was the matter with me, or how it was that he managed to make me do it... but I fired and hit that picture."

The Count pointed with his finger to the perforated picture; his face glowed like fire; the Countess was whiter than her own handkerchief; and I could not restrain an exclamation.

"I fired," continued the Count, "and, thank Heaven, missed my aim. Then Silvio... at that moment he was really terrible... Silvio raised his hand to take aim at me. Suddenly the door opens, Masha rushes into the room, and with a loud shriek throws herself upon my neck. Her presence restored to me all my courage.

"'My dear,' said I to her, 'don't you see that we are joking? How frightened you are! Go and drink a glass of water and then come back to us; I will introduce you to an old friend and comrade.'

"Masha still doubted.

"'Tell me, is my husband speaking the truth?' said she, turning to the terrible Silvio: 'is it true that you are only joking?'

"'He is always joking, Countess,' replied Silvio: 'once he gave me a slap in the face in a joke; on another occasion he sent a bullet through my cap in a joke; and just now, when he fired at me and missed me, it was all in a joke. And now I feel inclined for a joke.'

"With these words he raised his pistol to take aim at me--right before her! Masha threw herself at his feet.

"'Rise, Masha; are you not ashamed!' I cried in a rage: 'and you, sir, will you cease to make fun of a poor woman? Will you fire or not?'

"'I will not,' replied Silvio: 'I am satisfied. I have seen your confusion, your alarm. I forced you to fire at me. That is sufficient. You will remember me. I leave you to your conscience.'

"Then he turned to go, but pausing in the doorway, and looking at the picture that my shot had passed through, he fired at it almost without taking aim, and disappeared. My wife had fainted away; the servants did not venture to stop him, the mere look of him filled them with terror. He went out upon the steps, called his coachman, and drove off before I could recover myself."

The Count was silent. In this way I learned the end of the story, whose beginning had once made such a deep impression upon me. The hero of it I never saw again. It is said that Silvio commanded a detachment of Hetairists during the revolt under Alexander Ipsilanti, and that he was killed in the battle of Skoulana.

young bucks...

2009-08-18T14:48:00.003-01:00

These little kids are unreal.

Madin Mohammed

Rhain Davis

WOW.

WOD...
3 Rounds for time of:
60kg Snatch x 3
Row 250m
Pullups x 15

WOD...

2009-08-14T13:55:00.000-01:00

WOD...
6 Rounds of:
Run 400m
rest 1:30

Knee Pain?...

2009-08-12T17:17:00.004-01:00

A new study is suggesting that running can help reduce knee pain over time. I am not sure how in depth this study is, but there is a quick synopsis in the NY Times.

According to this study, it would seem that the compression forces on the knee during running are safe since the cartilage in the knee is built well-enough to absorb a head on force. Runners work for the most part only in the sagittal plane - meaning they run straight ahead - so they basically put compressive - not multi-directional, or shear - force on the knee joint. There is very little lateral movement and almost no twisting of the knee or leg, unlike motion in ball-sport athletes.

It is of little surprise to me, then, to see the condition of the knees of elite soccer, football, and basketball players deteriorating over time. They are producing heavy Newtons of shear force on the knee joint, leading to irritated and perturbed muscules, tendons, and cartilage about that joint. I guess, since runners don't move laterally they don't have to deal with shearing forces, thus making distance running a safe way to exercise into old age.

WOD...
4 Rounds for time of:
60kg Snatch x 3
Sprint 50m
Pushups x 25
Sprint 50m

Today in History...

2009-08-11T18:12:00.004-01:00

A day of milestones in Major League Baseball:
1926 Cleve Indian Tris Speaker hits his 700th double
1929 Babe Ruth becomes 1st to hit 500 homers
1961 Warren Spahn records victory #300, beats Cubs 2-1
1971 Harmon Killebrew hits HRs #500 & 501
1980 Reggie Jackson hits his 400th homer
1988 Gary Carter (NY Mets) became 59th player to hit 300 career HR

Some notable births on August 11th:
1921 Alex Haley US, author (Roots)
1933 Jerry Falwell televangelist, Moral Majority head
1950 Steve Wozniak cofounded Apple Computer
1953 Hulk Hogan [Terry Bollea], Ga, WWF heavyweight champion (1984-89)

That's right - it's Hulk Hogan's birthday today!! In honor of the Hulkster (who I saw defeat Brutus "The Barber" Beefcake in Cleveland's Convention Center in the 80's for the WWF title) we will be reminding everyone not to take steroids.

WOD (thanks, Kevin)...
Squat 100kg x 10
40" Box Jump x 10
Squat 110kg x 8
40" Box Jump x 10
Squat 120kg x 6
40" Box Jump x 10
Squat 130kg x 4
40" Box Jump x 10
Squat 140kg x 2
40" Box Jump x 10
Rest 2:00 between each couplet

Muscle Hypertrophy...

2009-08-08T12:05:00.008-01:00

(Image courtesty of The New England Journal Of Medicine)

For those of you who don't know the meaning of the word hypertrophy, here is a definition:
From Dictionary.com: "excessive growth or accumulation of any kind."

In the human body there are 2 types of hypertrophy, and they are brought about by two distinctly different types of training. We will discuss these in as non-scientific a way as possible, but first a quick note.

Muscle fibers exist in your body within a fluid called Sarcoplasm. Imagine your muscle fibers like a loose bundle of spaghetti. When you view this bundle from the end you see a bunch of little circles. Since the bundle is loose there is space between some of the spaghetti. If you dropped that bundle into a vat of sauce, you would see spaghetti sauce filling in the space between the spaghetti. That sauce serves as our sarcoplasm and the vat basically serves as our muscle (the fibers, cumulatively, make up a muscle).

SARCOPLASMIC HYPERTROPHY occurs when the amount of plasma (spaghetti sauce) in the vat increases, thus increasing the diameter of the vat. There is no increase in the size of the muscle fibers (spaghetti) and therefore no increase in density or strength - only an increase in muscular SIZE. Think bodybuilding.

SARCOMERE HYPERTROPHY occurs when the size and number of sarcomeres - the substance that makes up muscle fibers - increases, but the amount of sarcoplasm does not (Imagine the spaghetti becoming thicker). This increase in density leads to an increase in muscular strength. Think Olympic Lifting.

SO is it better to be one or the other? It depends on your goals, but we here at the NYFI believe in Sarcomere Hypertrophy. Strength, not size, is most important.

If you have any questions about this, or any other fitness issue, please contact Danny Segelin at dsegelin@thenyfi.com. Or visit the website www.thenyfi.com.

WOD...
7 Rounds of:
140kg Deadlift x 3
60# DB Thruster x 5
Rest :30 between each round
*(scale weight appropriately)

Laughing...

2009-08-05T13:15:00.001-01:00

The title of this youtube video is "If you watch this 100 times you will still laugh." I think i have watched it like 50 times an i laugh out loud each one. it's just plain stupid humor.

WOD...
100kg Squat x 10 x 6
Rest 2:00 between sets

Roid Much?...

2009-07-30T16:35:00.002-01:00

Here we go again. It seems that Manny Ramirez and David Ortiz are the latest major leaguers to be linked to steroids via the infamous 2003 MLB drug test.

I have no stance except for this: Print all the names on that list so that we can release those who played with honesty and integrity from the clutches of doubt and mistrust. Enough is enough - I have had it with this anti-public relations fiasco. I am sick of checking the news every 45 days and reading about the latest player who has been outed.

Lets play ball!

WOD...
Clean and Jerk
100kg x 1 x 3
90kg x 2 x 2
80kg x 3 x 1

Then...
4 Rounds of:
Sprint 100m
50# KB swing x 15
Sprint 100m
5 Burpees
Rest 1:30

Death Race...

2009-07-29T14:45:00.002-01:00

My Friend, Holly, recently turned me on to this Death Race thing. it's awesome!!

WOD...
Snatch
80kg x 1, 1, 1
70kg x 2, 2
60kg x 3
Then...
3 Rounds for time of:
Deadlift 120kg x 5
Pullups x 15

WOD...

2009-07-22T18:47:00.002-01:00

WOD...
3 Rounds for time of:
Row 250m
60kg Clean x 10
Pushups x 15

WOD...

2009-07-20T21:56:00.001-01:00

WOD...
5 Rounds of:
250# Squat x 5
50# KB Swing x 10
24" Box Jump x 10
Rest 1:30

Old-Fashioned Batter...

2009-07-19T11:20:00.002-01:00

a good poem about what i, too, miss about baseball:

The Old-Fashioned Batter

George E. Phair

How dear to my heart was the old-fashioned batter, who scattered line drives from the spring to the fall.

He did not resemble the up-to-date batter, who swings from the heels and misses the ball.

The up-to-date batter I'm not very strong for; He shatters the ozone with all of his might.

And that is the reason I hanker and long for --Those who doubled to left, and tripled to right.

The old-fashioned batter,

The eagle-eyed batter,

The thinking-mans batter,

Who tripled to right.

WOD...
5 Rounds of:
95# Overhead Squat x 10
Pullups x 10
95# Push Press x 10

Could It Be?

2009-07-02T10:29:00.004-01:00

The Cleveland Cavaliers have missed out on Charlie Villanueva in free agency. I am glad about that. He is still improving and he is going to be solid, but the Cavs need an impact player. This impact player may be arriving soon and his name is Ron Artest.(photo courtesy of http://yourwrong.wordpress.com/2009/04/30/stock-check/)

Artest is a beast. He is one of the only players in the league who can guard LeBron 1-on-1 and he can hit the 3. I'm not going to get all deep and whatnot, but you need 3 stars to win in this league now, and Artest would surely shine bright in Cleveland's rotation.

WOD...
5 Rounds of:
135# Clean & Jerk x 5
Pullups x 10

Liverpool...

2009-06-30T16:18:00.003-01:00

I don't know why I was thinking about Liverpool football today, but I was. Maybe it was Fernando Torres' scintillating move against the US defense that produced a shot and a great Tim Howard save. That must be it. Anyways, here are some cool, random tidbits on Liverpool FC (from bleacherreport.com).

Anfield was the original home of Everton FC in 1884, but after a rent dispute, Everton decided to move to Goodison Park in 1891.
John Houlding, the lease holder of Anfield, was left with a stadium and no team, so the board went to Scotland and signed 13 players to form the new Liverpool Football Club in 1892.
The club's original strip was blue and white quarters.
Liverpool's first ever game was against Rotherham Town. They won the match 7-1 with Malcom Macvean scoring their first ever goal. That game was also the first time an English domestic team had fielded a side consisting entirely of foreign players.
After being rejected by the Football Association, Liverpool played in the Lancashire League. Their first game was an 8-0 victory against Higher Walton with John Smith scoring Liverpool's first ever competitive goal.
They ended the season as champions, beating Everton 1-0 in the first ever Mersyside Derby.
The Merseyside derby has the highest amount of players sent off than any other Premier League fixture.
Liverpool were elected in to the Football Association in 1893.
Their first professional season saw the club become second division champions and going the whole campaign unbeaten, with Malcom Maclean once again scoring their first ever goal.
The strip changed from blue and white quarters to red and white.
In 1901, Alex Raisbeck was the first Liverpool captain to collect the Football League first division championship, under the management of Tom Watson.
Expansion of the South end of Anfield in 1906 created a larger stand called the Spion Kop, named after a Boer war battle of 1900 where over 300 men of the Lancashire regiment died, with many being from Liverpool.
1915 saw Liverpool involved in one of the sports earliest betting scandals, with four Liverpool players being banned.
Liverpool spent eight seasons in division two between 1954 and 1962.
In 1964 Liverpool changed their strip from red and white to the current all red that is seen today.
In February of 2006, Liverpool ended an 85 year run of losses against Manchester United in the cup by beating them 1-0 at Anfield. The first victory over United in the FA Cup since 1921.
In the 2007-08 season, Liverpool recorded the biggest ever Champions League margin with an 8-0 victory over Besiktas.
In April of 2008, Forbes magazine ranked Liverpool as the fourth most valuable club in the world.
Liverpool supporters singing ''You'll Never Walk Alone'' was featured in the Pink Floyd song, Fearless.
Robbie Fowler holds the club and Premier League record for the fastest hattrick standing at 4 minutes and 32 seconds.
Kenny Dalgleish was the first player-manager in English football in 1985.
Liverpool's Xabi Alonso holds the English record for the longest goal scored from open play standing at 64 metres.

WOD...
Run 5k
100 situps

Oddly enough...

2009-06-29T08:24:00.003-01:00

This is from the website '64 And Counting, the Cleveland Scene's sports blog. I found this to be quite interesting and kind of odd.

(photo courtesy of WFNY.com)

Posted by Vince Grzegorek:

So, in what was clearly the biggest news of this week, and will most likely go down as one of the most remembered stories of the entire year, the King of Pop, Michael Jackson, passed away at the age of 50.

Obviously, in terms of the kind of worldwide awareness that drives virtual discussion, that's pretty freaking huge. No surprise, then, that Michael Jackson easily topped Goggle's trends for June 25, 2009. "Michael Jackson died" and "Michael Jackson dead 2009" took the top two spots.

Who/what was third?

That would be one Christian Eyenga, the unheralded, unheard of pick by the Cavs in the 2009 NBA draft.

And it wasn't just the ingorant internet masses trying to figure out who he was. Even Brian Windhorst was a little clueless when it came to background information on the Congo product. Check out his two tweets after the pick.

(Hat tip to Chris Littmann's twitter)

WOD...
For Time:
Row 1,000m
45# Barbell Thrusters x 50
Pullups x 30

RIP Michael Jackson...

2009-06-26T10:16:00.002-01:00

I went to see him in concert in 1983. The "Victory Tour". Vintage Mike. When people talk about the best concert they've ever been to, I always recall that one. Michael freaking Jackson.

For most people, one album like Thriller would cement their indelible legacy in world culture. For some reason, Michael Jackson was always measured by that great album - unfairly expected to top the effort. he was always, for the rest of his life, the guy that could never again scale that peak of genius and incredible popularity. For this, many would unfairly label him as a fading star. Maybe he was fading - but his light shone so bright, and his talent was so immense that, while fading from the mesmerizing glare that was Thriller, his evanescence was the only thing that let us view him without covering our eyes. His legacy will live, faded or not, forever.

I'm pretty sure i don't need to provide a Wikipedia link for anyone who is wondering who we are talking about.
some links:
Other artists' views
Other celebs
PaulMcCartney.com
Africa Cries for MJ

Showdown 2009

2009-06-25T12:06:00.007-01:00

Steve Nash - 'The Player' from meathawk on Vimeo.

WOD...
Run 1 mile
100 situps
100 pushups
Then...
Sprint 50m x 6

That's right - Showdown in Chinatown 2009. This year I was on the touchline and midfield. Some sick talent came to play.
Check out Chris Bosh, Javier Zanetti, Edgar Davids, Thierry Henry, Claudio Reyna, Steve Nash, Tony Parker, Ryan Babel, Adrian Mutu, Salomon Kalou, and others...

Run a little...

2009-06-19T14:40:00.002-01:00

WOD...
Run 1 mile
then...
10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1 reps of:
45# KB Swings
Burpees

Run Fast...

2009-06-17T16:17:00.002-01:00

WOD...
Sprint 50m x 5
Rest 1:30 each

Sprint 1oom x 3
Rest 1:00 each

Run 400m
Rest 2:00

Run 800m

100 situps
50 pullups

Well...

2009-05-27T03:55:00.003-01:00

We aren't happy with the Cavaliers' overtime loss to the Magic. Painful.

All we want to do is check in and let you know that we will be vacationing in Costa Rica until June 5th.

(map courtesy of www.lonelyplanet.com)

On June 3rd we will be attending the United States vs. Costa Rica 2010 World Cup Qualifier in San Jose. It will be a huge match, as it pits the top 2 teams in CONCACAF against one another. Though 2 teams qualify, you never want to be on the bubble. I expect the U.S. to bring a very strong team, now that the league seasons are over. We will need big things from Jozy Altidore and Clint Dempsey.

See you next Saturday!

--danny

Game 4...

2009-05-26T12:00:00.003-01:00

The Cleveland Cavaliers take on the Orlando Magic tonight in Game 4 of the Eastern Conference Finals. The Cavs trail the series 2 games to 1 and will need their best effort of the year tonight if they want to bump off the Magic.

Cleveland's LeBron James is averaging almost 40 points during these playoffs, and if the Cavs stand a chance he will need to be big against the NBA's Defensive Player of the Year, Dwight Howard. Howard has fouled out of 2 games in this series, a contentious point with the Magic players and coaching staff who think Orlando is getting the short end of the refereeing stick.

The game will also hinge on which team's bench contributes more on offense AND on defense. The Cavs bench has been thoroughly outplayed and, frankly, embarassed by the Magic reserves. With the exception of Joe Smith (19 points/10 rebounds in game 3), Wally Szczerbiak, Ben Wallace, Boobie GIbson, and the rest have been non-factors. For Orlando, Mickael Pietrus, and Marcin Gortat have played huge while Anthony Johnson and JJ Redick have contributed solid minutes.

With the series most definitely on the line, look for another tight game this evening in Orlando.

WOD...
5 Rounds of:
Run 400m
Burpees x 10
HSPU x 10

(Photos courtesy of Joshua Gunter/Cleveland Plain Dealer, and www.bleacherreport.com)

Photos...

2009-05-20T20:22:00.002-01:00

I love this picture:

HAHAHAHAHA- how hilarious!! Go to this website to see more!

WOD...
5 Rounds of:
20# Ball Slams x 7
Sprint 50m
55# KB Swings x 7
Sprint 50m
Rest 1:00, 1:00, 1:30, 1:30, 2:00 between sets