Pre Energy & The Silent Owl

Four gentlemen.  Four scholars.  Four men captivated by the bar, sailing the gym with empty guts filled with swirling waves of energy drinks.  Their caffeinated adventure and their midnight chatter sways them along the distant and never ending ocean made up of sugar, and birds that circle their ship of chairs and coaches tied together by the strings from each men's shoes.  Knots that pull tight just like the grip they use to hold their shaker cups, keep the boat attached, while the men roll deeper into dreams and goals they didn't even know where there.  Hands move with their mouths, while body language follows the rhythm of the conversation.  Laughter rings out throughout the empty sea as one of the men ask for another shot of energy.  "Hell yea!" Matt says to Ryan, as powder starts to pour like sand from a shoe.  Powder that dances as it enters the cup.... a cup that will soon be shaken.  Pink powder that is legal, how this is possible makes the men burst with laughter even louder than before. A drug that allows the men to feel comfortable around each other, like a beer at a business meeting, or coffee on a first date. An ice breaker, a conversation starter, a counselor of some sort, constantly begging for more truth, more discussion, more of you.  Body building magazines that lay scattered on the wet deck, only to be glanced upon and then thrown to the side, leaving the magazine empty and unfulfilled.

When lost at sea the only thing to do is chug powder, crack monsters, and feel the smooth face of miss brown eyes against the palm of your hand. The yellow birds occasionally swoop down to catch a better view of the on board barrels that reek of motivation and wide eyed emotion.  The gusts of wind from the splashing whales and rolling kilo plates made miss brown eyes' hair find peace above her head, blocking out the sight of the birds as if a slide show was being played above all for men's heads.  A slide show of blue ski for miles, and clouds that made shapes of Dimas on a unicorn jumping over caffeinated waterfalls.  It became quiet for a moment as all four scholars of their respected career choices drew from their rich and inviting drinks.  A smack of the lips and a shake from the head was only the start of the after drink ritual.  The classic look of the cup from a stretched out arm like something was wrong, meant that everything in the world was right.  Chatter laid still in peace, as the sound of the boat slapping the water gave each man a moment of tranquility.  Chunks of energy powder found its way on the back of each mans throat and behind the gums that always seemed to bleed when brushed.  A fast chew as their eyes pinned wide, but the sight could not make out what laid in front of them from the pure concentration of the task at hand.  Rocks exploded as the supplements taste and high powered electricity punched them in the face, followed this time around - by a fast and violent sip to wash the left overs down deep into the belly of the beast.

Another topic popped up like the silence was never there.  The silence grabbed its doctor bag and medical kit and flew away.  He was glad to leave, for he was an owl, and owls had no business being out in the middle of a ocean made up of sugar and yellow birds.  The silent owl was always known for being realistic, and this situation was far from anything that lingered on making a bit of sense.  To the four men reality couldn't be more real. The spray of the ocean tasted like sugar, and the circling birds drew a certain shade that they could feel upon their skin.  How could this not be reality?  A reality they could taste with every sip of their mixed multi-colored contraptions they were drinking, like a pirate to his alcohol.  The front room boat stayed swaying as the lobby squeezed the shoe string boat closer and closer to the tiny door that was becoming bigger and bigger.  A door that became land, and land that lead to the land called gym.

Jokes and ball breaking would be soon rudely interrupted by a heavy reality.  Ideas were the reflections that the men saw when they pierced through the depth of the water, as the boat swayed closer and closer to the growing door.  Looking back at them was the what if's and the how comes.  Whales that rolled in circles with giant smiles upon their faces.  Fish that spoke English sang songs from the 90's, and the outer banks of the ocean came to a stop, as if the water and sea life had no where else to go.  All roads led to one destination.  All the whales were swimming to one location, and the birds were flying to help guide the four men home.  Soon the men realized their ocean journey was over, and the front door leading out from the gym lobby and into the gym was 10 feet high and partially cracked open.  Chalk dust fell like snow from the cracked door, as the music bumped through the dead end ocean walls meeting their feet and carrying up through their bodies.  The energy drinks were gone, empty, now living inside them.  The door flew open as the owl of silence made its way to the front of the boat, grabbing the rope with his wing and tying the boat to the long wooded post that the yellow birds momentarily made their new resting spot.  "Let's go boys......it's time to train."  - Silent owl.


Energy Drinks 2016

Catapult

The definition of the Attitude Nation Catapult performed beautifully by Ruben Aleksanyan in the video below.

Pointers to look out for.  

1.) Bar never touches his body intel the contact in his hips (yes he is a hip cleaner) 

2.) knees almost fully locked out - shoulders over - bar around mid thigh. (superman pull)

3.)  This athlete has performed the early arm bend to a T. ) most likely because he is a hip cleaner)

4.) the finish (aka) Arched Angel, is one of the best in the game.  Hips through - shoulders back - on toes - elbows back - BAR is right under his belly button

5.) WATCH THE BAR as the athlete starts to go under, goes under, and at the initial catch……..

THE BAR DOES NOTHING

Learn how to move around the bar, not move the bar.

Catapult 2016

Jon North - Vlog #58 - Day 1

Had a lot of fun adding the commentary to my training vlogs.  Even know Shankle is the commentary king…..its fun to try my best.  170kg 200kg here we come….

Bar Slamming Festival 2014 

C4

I am going to walk you through my C4 journey this morning while I type to you in Starbucks. Better yet…..please, join me.  Lets fly together. Lets dream together and conquer together.  Lets become brothers in a world of war together.  Lets drink the dancing water in a room of dark, as we get high doing what we love.  shhhh…..I can hear society outside these boarded walls….lower your candle young lad, we must never let them find us.  Take the bars and squat racks to the back.  Shelter the plates and find homes for the clips…….we all know those clips have a mind of their own.  They were born bastards in a sport that uses them in training as much as peanut butter on pancakes. Bring the dancing water to the table.  Now….Before we start, let me stop this blog for a minute to give you time to grab your C4 and watch the magical dust fall from the sky and then twirl in your water……turning your cup from clear to the color of your flavor. I choose strawberry……so let there be blood! Let the sky turn from light morning blue….to the dark red that flows through my veins! OK…….have you poured?  good.  Now raise your cup, glass, water bottle, old coffee mug, skull of a lion…….cheers.  Cheers to the day, to our loved ones, and the ones we protect from harm.  Cheers to the iron sport we call life, that separates us from them, the weak form the strong, the sheep from wolves, better yet…….as we call them here in the dark orchestra……the ones with soft hands…..

First gulp down as I crack these little black keys.  I close my eyes and wait……wait for the rush of joy and the taste of all my insecurities leaving my body like blood from a cut.  The cracks of my skin slither like small snakes, running rivers of fresh water amongst my body washing away the day before, giving me a new fresh look on this life we walk upon each day.  My skin itches with pleasure, so much that water drips from my eyes, as the goose bumps from my cracked skin raise like the wave on top of a gold medal podium.  The itch…..starting from my cheeks, crawling up to my eyes, seeping into my skull, and then like a water fall……down my whole body as if I was born new.  My fingers type faster, as my mind becomes sharper.  The world around me spins slower, as my concentration becomes better.  The pain in my knees starts to seep away like a high tree in a moving fog.  My back grows spikes to keep me safe from the back stabbers that lurk during the day, and the two faced monsters who hide at night.  My senses grow consistent to a spider, giving me the power in separating the closet haters, to the ones who truly have my best interest.  My foot now taps to the violin song I will post above.  I write to its rhythm.  The beat moves me as the C4 runs through me.  I am strong when I am confident…….sadly I need dancing water to keep this instrument tuned and sound, for without it I am not as sound, I am weak and less bound.  The room now completely dark, a great time for us to take another gulp……better yet….this time lets take a giant chug…...

Belly of warmth…..as bones grow bigger, and muscles become stronger.  At this point we are dangerous…..unknowing what we will do nor say, not as scared at the punishment that may lay.  Another chug down…..as now my heart beats fast like the snatch.  Hang snatches are the fastest because of the stretch reflex the athlete can use if done properly……C4 is a triple hang snatch above the knee, fast and violent like a pirate ship set out to sea.  I wonder if Shankle is reading this blog, if so you better put down that sweet Louisiana ice tea…..get your self some of this skin itching, belly warming, red sea flowing, water dancing, pain relieving, weightlifting hulk juice we call the 4th element of the C.  Late, late at night when the Orchestra is the quietest ……The lion killer has been rumored to lark in the dark.  Its been chattered about throughout the halls a few of the skeletons sitting in the very back row listing to the Orchestra play on an ordinary day…..that lion heads have been found all throughout this old forgotten auditorium. Who be-headed them? and why? I have a pretty good guess on both matters….

C4 before training?  The sheep ask.  Yes, we reply without looking up.  I don't need to make eye contact with those I don't trust.  I keep to myself these days, I talk less these days. What I didn't tell these sheep, is that C4 is a must on any day.  Today is an off day for Weightlifting……but not for life.  I chug this bottle to connect with you.  I chug this bottle to clear the pain in order to smile.  The dancing water keeps me awake in order to live. Take it away……you take away apart of my lifestyle…….take away my lifestyle, and I don't trust myself in what kind of life choices I would make. 

Stay away forever crystal mountains…….protect me dancing water……..

C4 2016 

Leathered

Pull back with all your might……for us the skeletons should never stop fighting the good fight. Heave! Pull! Use your back to attack and your heart to win; the greatest gift an athlete is given is the strength within.  Pinch your shoulder blades tight to cut through the wind! Fast with a swoosh and quick like a hush……this will keep the weight from pounding us against the dust.  “Back not up!” the lifters yell from behind, as water creeps around the bend.  Don't try to move a bar; for it will always disguise itself as a friend, only to steal your gold and rust your crown, athletes are kings that continually drown. Under we go, heavy we constantly throw, as buckets of water sink us low.  Move around like sound, let the bar unite you with the ground, as heels dig and tears falls……let your body move as your fear dies.  

Chest up young lifter…. as the leathered faces crack a dry smile, tying their shoes makes them remember days of denial. A heavy chest means a weighted down soul, one that carries too many problems on a platform of weight.  Adding extra baggage becomes a weight too much for any plate.  Your knees will break and your heart will stop, as your eyes look around an audience of silence.  Let your chest rise as you break through the air……let your lats spread like flight to a bird……let your confidence soar as a lion with his roar.  Donny Shankle watches from the back of the room, blue hat low and jeans full of blue.  If you have lost your chest and your shoulder blades aren't tight… look at the man postured in the back with a hate that blocks the light.  A face on an interview half covered from shade, half light, one half leathered and the other half brave. The Cal Strength interview of Shankle is a reminder on how to train. If you are a lifter reading this blog, you must learn to learn, tighten your back like the curve of a spoon.  Tight and strong not just flat and solid, for a tree will lie when lying down flat.  Some look sturdy, while others look hollow.  To find the right tree takes years for the eye to see, the body to feel while your hand falls free, once you stand long enough by a tree, you will know every itch of its matter and how it may be.  Learn how to keep your back tight, and your hands free… this young lifter, is when skin becomes leathered and the weight of the world becomes free.

I write to you from a corner booth in Starbucks.  The day outside is cloudy and the air is full of salt.  I write by the ocean of peace, thinking about tight backs, weights being made, and how a lifter’s movement to me is never the same.  This is why technique is so intriguing to my brain, a brain that has never been good at much besides movements that mock the flow of rain.  For we are the best athletes and dancers alike, we move like the ocean on a stormy night.  I lift weights for the expression it gives, freedom of movement in a life of constant heartache. You know as well as I that quick sand is quick to find…. grabbing a bar will always relieve you of your pain, giving you another feeling of ache…and well…pain.  The microphone has consumed me far too long… I am back home in the dark where I belong.  I raise my fist, full of wine and C4.  Cheers to you, the ones of bones and salt, not from the sea but by the stage of the never forgotten.  Right through us they see our past in the same room as me, and a window open from the Orchestra to the sea.  I ink my pen, I shed a tear, I write directly to you without any fear.  

Without this blog I fake smiles.  Without this blog I lose myself.  I am the dark, we are the Orchestra….

Olympics 2016