Talk
Train
Talk Hard Train Hard 2016
Friday, October 19, 2012
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
Heels
I am more and more convinced that you should break the
weight from the floor already back on your heels. “Where should we start the pull from?” is a
question I received a few seminars back that really made me think, where do I
pull from. It is a mystery that must not
go unsolved, a mystery that this black sheep must try to tackle. I know the
“guide book” of weightlifting says the balls of your feet… but I don’t buy this
one way to lift type crap. I don’t buy
this surrender to new ideas and creations bullshit that the old dictators of
USA Weightlifting want us to fall prisoners to.
Pull off the balls of your feet, absolutely. I just don’t think the “guide book” applies
to all the millions upon millions of techniques. If you are scratching your head asking
yourself what these million different techniques are, well let me tell you. Every athlete is different. Every athlete is
unique. Every athlete has his or her own
relationship with the bar. There is no one
way to lift weights, there is just your way.
No two people lift the same, so for every weightlifter comes a new and different
technique. For every weightlifter a romance
is born, a relationship blooms into a garden of love and hate from every corner
of the world. “There is more than one
way to get to the top of the hill”. – Glenn Pendlay. This is the best thing Mr. Black Beard has ever
said to me. Thank you coach for opening my mind to new possibilities, new
adventures and a new outlook on life.
Pulling off the heels is what I do and teach. This is the Superman way, the Attitude way….
a way. Fall backwards on the first pull,
(floor to knees) and use all the momentum to drive yourself over the bar on the
second pull, (knees to hips) to get ready for one thing and one thing only… Yes
young men, and yes young women! You are right! Get over and get ready for the
only thing that matters in life…. the finish!! A domino effect, a sling shot effect…
wait, better yet, a catapult effect! Ha ha, YES! Yes I have had too much
coffee, but on the other hand there is no such thing as too much coffee, just
under recovery from coffee. But back to
what I was saying. IT’S NOT A PULL, IT’S
A SET UP. Understand this and you will
PR daily. The set up and the finish are
not the same; they are two different sports, two different creatures. Stop combining your mashed potatoes with your
green beans, let them have a life of their own, let them be separate and enjoy
the freedom they have deserved over the years of battle and war. You should be so far back on your heels that
if you let go of the bar, you should fall back on your ass. People wonder why there are all of the holes
behind the platforms at Cal Strength?…. Well there you go. They are not from grip strength though; they
are from straps breaking on a weekly basis.
Damn those straps, do your job!! Sons of bitches!!!! Wiggle your toes as you pull. The toes are for the finish, and the heels
are for the pull, don’t let the heels slack!
Then again, Attitude Nation… do what works for you, don’t listen to me!
Listen to you!
What are you cooking Joe?
Well Cathy I am baking a Jon North, Greg Everet, Glenn Pendlay, Don McCauley,
Paul Doherty, Jackie Mah, Rob Earwicker, Jasha Faye, and John Coffee
cake. Is it good Joe? Cathy, I have no idea yet, it’s worth a
try!
I believe in my way 1,000,000 percent. My way is the best, hands down. But they would tell you the same, so you
choose.
STOP JUMPING! I have
competed, coached, and trained all over the world and I have never seen anybody
jump and shrug in the air! Lol, I’m sorry I know I should be Attitude Nation on
this and say, “Do what works for you” but this just crosses the line into
madness and self-destruction. The PR’s
and consistency I have seen at my certs by transforming people from not jumping
is mind blowing. Can someone please
tell me where this jumping thing comes from?
I am more confused than coach Pendlay without BBQ. I guess this blog is turning into a diary at
this point. I sometimes forget that people
read what I type. Hello Frank, it’s good
to see you back in the cast away corner we call the Dark Orchestra. Sometimes in the dark I can’t see who is with
me. It’s good to know that when I hang
my hat, cry my tears, and hide from the world, I have you to join me Frank. Thank
you, and cheers.
Wow, a lot of boring technique talk. I could go all day talking about this science
project we call weightlifting, but my mind drifts from the equations and solutions,
and into an Alice in Wonderland dream of coffee waterfalls, and vicodin powdered
protein shakes that make my skin tingle and my head turn from child hood
memories of being on my dad’s lap looking out into a foggy rain filled world on top of the
Seattle Space Needle. Yes stay on your
heels, but maybe pull off your heels. Maybe turn your AC up while your windows are
down. Maybe is an adventure that leads
to Dinosaurs and talking dogs. I guess I
will end this blog with a very famous quote before I start typing deeper and
deeper into my white padded wall banging head.
“Try it, you might like it”.
Salute and we will see you back here soon Frank. Thank you for being
with me.
Frank 2016
Saturday, October 13, 2012
The Kite Coach and The Sand Creature
I write to you from the far away island of Maui. On the beach with miss brown eyes by my side, ridding the waves of life...literally. I have been playing cast away for the last four days. I haven't touched a weight sense I sailed upon this easy going orchestra, played by white birds on a blue stage full of flowers and palm trees, much different the the Orchestra I know. And while everyday is paradise, the sunny heaven I bathe in also brings a sandy explosion of a homesick feeling that grows within my ears and throughout my sandy feet. That's why I must visit my home.....The Dark Orchestra. Let me step out from the sun, and enter the dark. Let me step away from my family, and hang with my other family. Let me say good by to happiness and hello to pain. Know matter how far I travel, Weightlifting follows me everywhere.
This wet Island is a refreshing change from the the dry spell that my team mates and I have had in the gym the last few weeks. Ever sense Coach left, the drinking water has become scars. Weightlifters are going hungry, and PR's are moving onward looking for green grass, waterfalls, and other life to feed off of. A PR is a person too, they need us just as bad as we need them. I wait for Coach like one pig waits for another. I wait for coach like he waits for me to finally break the weight from the floor. I will wait for coach like he has waited for me the last three years. This sport has taught me that time moves slow, and with patients grows great things to come, and waiting for coach is just another great thing soon to bloom into gold. The gym has left with him, and the weights followed closely behind like a puppy being dragged by a little boy walking too fast. Smiles are now smirks, high fives are now low two's, and big bright eyed looks for approval have melted into an empty chair sitting in front of an empty desk giving careless feedback. If a big lift is made and coach pendlay doesn't see it or hear it, did it happen? This is the million dollar question.
Blue ocean as far as my eyes can reach. Water as clear as air, and sky's as blue as the towel me and miss brown eyes sit on. I think and smile, I think and frown, I am happy, I am depressed, I am a sandy beach full of emotions that has me running my finger back and forth in the sand. A black crow to my right, and a white dove to my left. Miss brown eyes in my belly, and a deep chip in my heart. This blog goes out to all, weightlifting or not, a story about a beach and what it can bring out of you. Eyes up young man, stop looking down Jon. Look out to the sea as if you are catching the bar. Eyes up coach says, as I picture him standing there with nothing around him but him, and the look on his face that waits for my response to his always great coaching cues. This man has dedicated his whole life to this sport, and the realization that I am included in the package is mind numbing. He coaches like an innocent kid flying his kite high in the air with complete pride and concentration. Sorry, this is just the image that popped in my mind when thinking about coach coaching. Wow, the air feels free here, a feeling of let go and escape. Look, you can see the kite that coach flies from here......that son of a bitch. A beautiful feeling rudely woken by reality as I have trouble swimming with the long heavy pendlay bar attached to my ankle. Hello world. Hello sea turtles.
My sister getting married is something that I can't talk about. I can't even write about. I hope you understand. The words don't have a chance, they will never see the light of day. They will live and die inside me. An emotion that has been sentenced to the death penalty. Typing this has already made me leave the computer a few times. So I must end it hear, I have nothing else to say about this.
A kiss from coffee surrounded by non weightlifting civilians. This is dangerous. I fear for the people around me. I am a lion amongst sheep. A rage in me that can snap at anytime, springing me off the sand I sit on and into a full sprint tackling a white sheep into the water and eating my prey like a vampire. I shouldn't be allowed around the public. I don't trust myself, and they shouldn't trust me. I have been taught and trained to become an animal the last 5 plus years. I have been trained to react and attack without thinking. I have been trained to wake up and get strong! Fight! Kill! Train! Win! Endure the pain! Everyday I am kicked down to only stand taller. I am beat up to become strong. I am slowed down to move extremely fast. Coach is never happy to keep me always hungry. I am overloaded with weight only to throw weight high and then slam weight down. I can't run because I am built to lift. I am trained to love pain, except pain, live with pain, so now I don't feel pain. Just the other day I snapped......yes in training towards the weight, replace the weight with a person.....yea see, scary and not good. SNAP! I am left gasping for air dramatically looking around the room trying to read the situation because I have know idea what the hell just happened. I need to be locked away. Throw away the key and let Pendlay create an even stronger and faster monster. Blame coach, not me. I sit on this beach with little twitches that have me scared like Edward Norton in the Hulk. What the fuck did coach do to me? What the fuck have I become?
I guess these are just some of the many thoughts that come over me as I sit on the sandy beach of Hawaii.
Lexy North 2016
This wet Island is a refreshing change from the the dry spell that my team mates and I have had in the gym the last few weeks. Ever sense Coach left, the drinking water has become scars. Weightlifters are going hungry, and PR's are moving onward looking for green grass, waterfalls, and other life to feed off of. A PR is a person too, they need us just as bad as we need them. I wait for Coach like one pig waits for another. I wait for coach like he waits for me to finally break the weight from the floor. I will wait for coach like he has waited for me the last three years. This sport has taught me that time moves slow, and with patients grows great things to come, and waiting for coach is just another great thing soon to bloom into gold. The gym has left with him, and the weights followed closely behind like a puppy being dragged by a little boy walking too fast. Smiles are now smirks, high fives are now low two's, and big bright eyed looks for approval have melted into an empty chair sitting in front of an empty desk giving careless feedback. If a big lift is made and coach pendlay doesn't see it or hear it, did it happen? This is the million dollar question.
Blue ocean as far as my eyes can reach. Water as clear as air, and sky's as blue as the towel me and miss brown eyes sit on. I think and smile, I think and frown, I am happy, I am depressed, I am a sandy beach full of emotions that has me running my finger back and forth in the sand. A black crow to my right, and a white dove to my left. Miss brown eyes in my belly, and a deep chip in my heart. This blog goes out to all, weightlifting or not, a story about a beach and what it can bring out of you. Eyes up young man, stop looking down Jon. Look out to the sea as if you are catching the bar. Eyes up coach says, as I picture him standing there with nothing around him but him, and the look on his face that waits for my response to his always great coaching cues. This man has dedicated his whole life to this sport, and the realization that I am included in the package is mind numbing. He coaches like an innocent kid flying his kite high in the air with complete pride and concentration. Sorry, this is just the image that popped in my mind when thinking about coach coaching. Wow, the air feels free here, a feeling of let go and escape. Look, you can see the kite that coach flies from here......that son of a bitch. A beautiful feeling rudely woken by reality as I have trouble swimming with the long heavy pendlay bar attached to my ankle. Hello world. Hello sea turtles.
My sister getting married is something that I can't talk about. I can't even write about. I hope you understand. The words don't have a chance, they will never see the light of day. They will live and die inside me. An emotion that has been sentenced to the death penalty. Typing this has already made me leave the computer a few times. So I must end it hear, I have nothing else to say about this.
A kiss from coffee surrounded by non weightlifting civilians. This is dangerous. I fear for the people around me. I am a lion amongst sheep. A rage in me that can snap at anytime, springing me off the sand I sit on and into a full sprint tackling a white sheep into the water and eating my prey like a vampire. I shouldn't be allowed around the public. I don't trust myself, and they shouldn't trust me. I have been taught and trained to become an animal the last 5 plus years. I have been trained to react and attack without thinking. I have been trained to wake up and get strong! Fight! Kill! Train! Win! Endure the pain! Everyday I am kicked down to only stand taller. I am beat up to become strong. I am slowed down to move extremely fast. Coach is never happy to keep me always hungry. I am overloaded with weight only to throw weight high and then slam weight down. I can't run because I am built to lift. I am trained to love pain, except pain, live with pain, so now I don't feel pain. Just the other day I snapped......yes in training towards the weight, replace the weight with a person.....yea see, scary and not good. SNAP! I am left gasping for air dramatically looking around the room trying to read the situation because I have know idea what the hell just happened. I need to be locked away. Throw away the key and let Pendlay create an even stronger and faster monster. Blame coach, not me. I sit on this beach with little twitches that have me scared like Edward Norton in the Hulk. What the fuck did coach do to me? What the fuck have I become?
I guess these are just some of the many thoughts that come over me as I sit on the sandy beach of Hawaii.
Lexy North 2016
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
Chris Ware
Big and bad. Strong and confident. Motivated and powerful. A captain among his crew, sailing the seas of weights with his blond hair and short green shorts. Legs like tree trunks, bubble butt that held a mustang's engine. Arms as long as ropes that smashed through walls and weights like heavy swings from a sludge hammer. A hammer head full of little words, but a million thoughts. A giant among men, a gladiator among civilians. A presence you could feel before even entering the gym. The sea parted when he walked, and the sea was dead quiet when he lifted. You never were surprised to see him in the gym, because the word was already out that the lion himself was pacing the gym floor hungry and looking for food. Goose bumps covered your body as the hair on your neck stood up like a squat. Chris Ware is his name, and killing weights is his game.
He was everything I was not. He stood 10 feet tall, I stood 1 foot tall. He trained hard and held a 4.0. I got high and held a solid 1.5. I was a punk kid who looked up to the wrong people. A kid who was not walking, but running down the wrong road. Chris Ware was the beginning and the birth of Jon North. A birth that took place my first day of my freshman year of high school. The first day I laid eyes on the green beast. This story is the beginning my friends. I am taking you back to the start. This story takes place before I met the dark world of weight training, weightlifting, body building, Miss Brown Eyes, The Dark Orchestra, you, my wife, my National Title, my USA teams, or my father figure Coach. A story that Chris Ware himself, had and has no idea ever took place, until now. Now that I have a platform to speak on, I am proud to tell this story to the world.
I watched his every move. Yea, you can call me a stalker, I was. You can call me whatever you want, but you try seeing an alien for the first time, and let's see what you do. Chris Ware had no idea, and still has no idea how much I looked up to him. I would go home and tell my mom stories at dinner time about what happened in the weight room and what Chris Ware did. I will never forget the day Chris spoke to me....... it was like a dragon lowering his head down to my level, breathing fire, and then flying away. I spoke to a dragon, and the dragon somehow knew who I was. I ran home and told my mom with excitement and happiness. I studied how he interacted with others. I took mental notes on how he trained, and the intensity he used to lift the massive weight he was lifting. When people ask me where I got my attitude from, my intensity, my drive, I always say Chris Ware. Even though they have no idea who he is, I do, and that's all that matters. If you think I am intense and crazy now, you should have seen this guy train.
Fucken let's go. The Shankle of my Child hood..... let's go. Chris Ware has made me a man without him even knowing it, and now it's time to put a sword though his chest. Kill him and take his strength. Thank you for all your teachings Chris. Thank you for changing my life and giving me the tools I need to succeed in sports and in life. I took your powers and introduced the world to me, Jon North, the bar slamming weight killing Johnny Cash singing most hated man in USA weightlifting mother fucken Attitude Nation son of a bitch. With more respect than you will ever know Chris, I fight everyday to be like you, better than you, I try everyday to cut the dragon's head off that once blessed me with its fire. You have created a monster that now chases after you. WELCOME TO THE DARK ORCHESTRA CHRIS. Please don't be scared, there is nothing to worry about. Don't mind the skeletons and the dark stage filled full of salty coffee stained tears. Please sit, for now you have entered our world, a world of hell and pain. Snort the chalk lines of life with me, and eat the bar that breaks our hearts from let downs it has casted upon us. A world of demons and back stabbing is where we sit Chris, a world full of nah sayers and hateful vampires. Success is outside. In here we chat while our skeletons play their violins.
I followed you into the jungle of weights, the Alice in Wonderland of barbells, and like the movie Jumanji I have never left. I remember the person I was before being bit by the weight room bug and becoming infected by the virus. I wonder how he is doing? I wonder what has become of the outside world? I thank you every time I succeed Chris, but I curse your name every time I fail. I wonder where I would be if I never met you, if I never wandered into the gym touching bars and plates like they were mysterious plants from an unknown world. As you can tell, this blog has veered off into different directions a few times that has you scratching your head. It's because of the amount of coffee that is being poured down my bloody from the bar throat. More coffee than you could ever imagine. Plus, the song has changed a few times, which turns everything around. But anyways, I really just wanted to say thank you. I am sorry about the dagger that I have stabbed you in the chest with, I hope you understand that I need all of your mighty powers to make this 2016 Olympic team. I don't know if you ever knew the role model you were and still are to me. I don't know if you will ever read this. Hopefully you will come across this so you know the impact you had on me growing up. I wanted you to know that there was a kid who hung on your every word and move. I wanted to let you know that you changed my life for the better, and I bet there are others out there that feel the same, but have never spoke of it or wrote about it. I don't even know if you will remember me, or know who I am, and that's okay, I understand, it's been many many years. I want to thank you for inviting me to your house party, I will never forget running from the cops. Thank you for showing me the weights, saving me from drugs, guiding me to...... me. Thank you.
Chris Ware 2016
He was everything I was not. He stood 10 feet tall, I stood 1 foot tall. He trained hard and held a 4.0. I got high and held a solid 1.5. I was a punk kid who looked up to the wrong people. A kid who was not walking, but running down the wrong road. Chris Ware was the beginning and the birth of Jon North. A birth that took place my first day of my freshman year of high school. The first day I laid eyes on the green beast. This story is the beginning my friends. I am taking you back to the start. This story takes place before I met the dark world of weight training, weightlifting, body building, Miss Brown Eyes, The Dark Orchestra, you, my wife, my National Title, my USA teams, or my father figure Coach. A story that Chris Ware himself, had and has no idea ever took place, until now. Now that I have a platform to speak on, I am proud to tell this story to the world.
Fucken let's go. The Shankle of my Child hood..... let's go. Chris Ware has made me a man without him even knowing it, and now it's time to put a sword though his chest. Kill him and take his strength. Thank you for all your teachings Chris. Thank you for changing my life and giving me the tools I need to succeed in sports and in life. I took your powers and introduced the world to me, Jon North, the bar slamming weight killing Johnny Cash singing most hated man in USA weightlifting mother fucken Attitude Nation son of a bitch. With more respect than you will ever know Chris, I fight everyday to be like you, better than you, I try everyday to cut the dragon's head off that once blessed me with its fire. You have created a monster that now chases after you. WELCOME TO THE DARK ORCHESTRA CHRIS. Please don't be scared, there is nothing to worry about. Don't mind the skeletons and the dark stage filled full of salty coffee stained tears. Please sit, for now you have entered our world, a world of hell and pain. Snort the chalk lines of life with me, and eat the bar that breaks our hearts from let downs it has casted upon us. A world of demons and back stabbing is where we sit Chris, a world full of nah sayers and hateful vampires. Success is outside. In here we chat while our skeletons play their violins.
I followed you into the jungle of weights, the Alice in Wonderland of barbells, and like the movie Jumanji I have never left. I remember the person I was before being bit by the weight room bug and becoming infected by the virus. I wonder how he is doing? I wonder what has become of the outside world? I thank you every time I succeed Chris, but I curse your name every time I fail. I wonder where I would be if I never met you, if I never wandered into the gym touching bars and plates like they were mysterious plants from an unknown world. As you can tell, this blog has veered off into different directions a few times that has you scratching your head. It's because of the amount of coffee that is being poured down my bloody from the bar throat. More coffee than you could ever imagine. Plus, the song has changed a few times, which turns everything around. But anyways, I really just wanted to say thank you. I am sorry about the dagger that I have stabbed you in the chest with, I hope you understand that I need all of your mighty powers to make this 2016 Olympic team. I don't know if you ever knew the role model you were and still are to me. I don't know if you will ever read this. Hopefully you will come across this so you know the impact you had on me growing up. I wanted you to know that there was a kid who hung on your every word and move. I wanted to let you know that you changed my life for the better, and I bet there are others out there that feel the same, but have never spoke of it or wrote about it. I don't even know if you will remember me, or know who I am, and that's okay, I understand, it's been many many years. I want to thank you for inviting me to your house party, I will never forget running from the cops. Thank you for showing me the weights, saving me from drugs, guiding me to...... me. Thank you.
Chris Ware 2016
Saturday, October 6, 2012
Battle Gear
Slam bars and kill pr's in the new Attitude Nation SHORTS! 
Rock the bright green Nation shirt on a sunny day, or do some curls for the girls in the Attitude Deep V!
Chug coffee and go HAM in the cut off!!!
What is a light day? Hailee Lollar has no idea!! 
Slam bars with the Polar Bears in a warm Attitude Sweatshirt!!
Black Sheep 2016
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Practice
Here it is! The Team MDUSA Practice meet! Congrats on the whole Muscle Driver team on making hand fills of PR's, great totals, and for mike and chris making the B team baby!!! Also, congrats to my Wife for smoking a brand new PR total! I went 160kg snatch 192kg C&J making a solid 352kg total. I can't wait until Americans to slam bars and make the PAN AM team. Thank you to Coach Don McCauley for stepping in and helping us out while coach is away, you are the man and thank you again. Thank you to Brad aka the boss man, to the loaders and the beautiful lades who filmed. Attitude Nation Salute!
The 16th Attitude Nation Certification Seminar was a blast! Thank you to the owners Ryan and Kyle for having me. Thank you to everyone at Port crossfit, and congrats on all the PR's, great lifting, bar slamming, and coffee drinking!! Thank you to Mike Graber for helping out and putting on a great show while we all watched you go for a big PR CJ!!! Port Crossfit please please keep me posted on all your future success in Weightlifting and crossfit. O and I almost forgot The owner Ryan is a professional Actor and was just in a Lays national commercial with Eva Longoria. He is the Hot Dog guy! "what about the hot dogs?" great hair, great acting. (Video Below the picture)
And now the awesome commercial!! Congrats Ryan!
MDUSA 2016
Monday, October 1, 2012
Jogging
Something new for me, something that has helped me on and off the platform the last few weeks. I find a certain peace within myself that I never knew existed. I have met another Jon North that I am drawn to. A new me that is calm and quiet. Peaceful and mysterious. A Jon North that breaths clouds of morning fog and not flames of fire. Who never walks but runs, and who never talks but thinks. These crying thoughts that drown me with shame must be freed. These thoughts must run away from my skeleton pit mind, never to be seen again. Run away from me you blood sucking Demon, your thoughts that tear holes though my heart, will be no longer, as I run from you. Facing you has got me no where. So I run.
This old race horse has trouble moving when off the platform, so starting a jog is always an up hill battle. I step with pain as my knees start to play their own violin. It's been said that my knees and back have their own Dark Orchestra. The more I think about it, we all have a Dark Orchestra. What is a Dark Orchestra? It's a dark stage where we can catch our breath, and listen to our skeletons play beautiful songs of sadness. A family of outcasts that eat dinner together on a long wooden table filled with glasses of salty tears. A place called home. But this morning, there is no dark orchestra, just a quiet world where the sounds of bar slamming and judging eyes do not exist. Ready to listen to the key board of sneakers that hit the side walk of pavement. I am ready to enter the Apocalypse. Ready to enter the clouds of fog. I jog, I jog with rhythm and pride. I jog like Ali. I jog with Attitude, side by side with the Nation. I jog to forget. I jog to think. I jog because jogging is not weightlifting, it's something different. The faster I jog, the farther back the bar above my head falls behind. The longer I jog, the less my body hurts. The old race horse starts to wake, the fog starts to clear, and now you can call me Seabiscut. Every drop of sweat that falls off my forehead is a weight off my shoulders. Come on coach, it's my time to carry you to the finish line. Your presence is strong, even though hidden away in your own Orchestra of...... well, let's just say your presence is still with me, and me jogging is a metaphor of moving forward with you, Shankle, and the rest of my teammates. I will jog for us. I will jog this morning to simply move, because moving is what I was put on this planet to do. God made me move well, so moving is what I do. God gave me bad book smarts for a reason. He gave me ADD for a reason. He invented coffee for a reason. He invented jogging for a reason. He invented weightlifting for us lost souls. Weightlifting is a castle of happiness from our broken paths of doom. He invented Klokov to not only look good, but, well..... Klokov is a damn sexy man. That's all I have to say about that. If you don't have a man crush on Klokov, then I don't trust you as a person.
I write about weightlifting now, but when I jog I think nothing of it. I think of nothing. I focus on everything. I focus on my stride, the landscape, the sunrise that can make even the strongest man feel weak. I black out, this time not from alcohol, but from peace. Running breaks the weightlifting shackles from my ankles, allowing me to move in a way I haven't done in years. I feel no pain for the first time in years, no back pain, no knee pain, nothing. It's like my body is rewarding me from not beating it up, slamming it with weights, crushing it with bars, kicking it down until it pees blood or I get the shakes at night. My body cries when I crawl to the bathtub. My body screams when I puke white liquid from the amount of creatine I intake. But when I run, I feel weightless, I feel like Seabiscut. Sometimes, taking the time out of the day for no weightlifting, is the best weightlifting training for a weightlifting meet.
I feel I am addicted to coffee. I am addicted to moving. I am addicted to weightlifting. I am addicted to jogging. Yes, you can find me at practice everyday chained to the platform. But now, you can also find me in the early morning running through the Apocalypse, side by side with a calm Jon North that you may never meet. Salute.
Prefontaine Forever
PLUS a video from the General of the Attitude Nation, training for the 2028 Olympic games! Setting a new baby World Record with some great bar slamming!!! You can't teach speed!!!! This baby is a freak athlete! This video was sent to me from his dad, thank you Joe, Salute. (video below)
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