Any kid who grew up in Bloomington, Indiana probably put some in time at at least one of the several local quarry holes. The abandoned limestone pits were essentially man-made ponds. There were even small fish in some of them. We'd get there however we could, on four wheels or two, sometimes even walked. We'd climb around, lay around, try to think of increasingly stupid and dangerous ways to enter the water.
You non-hoosier types have probably seen the movie "Breaking Away." Filmed in B-town when I was a lad of about 12, it features one of the larger quarries. Here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/toothpaw/2071110458/
We used to visit this one, but it got to be too well known. We favored a couple of the smaller ones, including one called "Icebox" (they all had names). The name didn't have anything to do with the abandoned fridge Dennis Quaid swam into in the movie. Icebox was colder than the others. Must've been deeper. It had a tower on one steep side with a cable hanging down across the quarry. On the other side, it hung at such a height that you could grab it and step off the wall, drop down towards the water, and the weight of the cable would pull you back up. There was also an end of the quarry that was composed of jumbled blocks of stone that went all the way down into the water, how deep I never learned. What we used to do, though, was dive down into the dark, cold, green water and swim through the gaps in the jumbled blocks. We used to try to find different ways through and do them in different combinations. It was really a very stupid thing to do, would've been easy for one of us to get stuck. People did get hurt in those places, but we never heard of someone biting the big one. Surely some local historian, or some kid at IU writing his or her thesis, has researched it. I don't really want to know. This is what I remember.
I'll probably never dip a toe in the quarries again, and I'd go nuts if my kids went and did the stuff I did. But it is a very, very good thing to have done.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Blog vs. Rant
Up until now I have been reluctant to blog, and I think I've narrowed the reasons for this down to three:
1. Nobody could possibly be interested. Blogging when I have nothing to say is disrespectful to any potential reader, who surely found my post by accident. Even if I have something to say, though, why should anyone care? A blog is like a diary one writes in and leaves lying around hoping someone will peek at it.
2. There are millions of blogs out there. If I do it too, I'll be contributing to all the noise. By not blogging, I am taking a principled stand against web clutter, though it may be an immeasurably small gesture. Just as I know that using a compact flourescent bulb in my laundry room is not making a huge impact on the global climate crisis and yet I do it anyway.
3. I know myself, and I know that if I keep at this long enough my innocuous ramblings will evolve into vitriolic rants bound to anger and alienate all who stumble upon them.
But I'm doin' it anyway. And I know you are hanging on my every word...
1. Nobody could possibly be interested. Blogging when I have nothing to say is disrespectful to any potential reader, who surely found my post by accident. Even if I have something to say, though, why should anyone care? A blog is like a diary one writes in and leaves lying around hoping someone will peek at it.
2. There are millions of blogs out there. If I do it too, I'll be contributing to all the noise. By not blogging, I am taking a principled stand against web clutter, though it may be an immeasurably small gesture. Just as I know that using a compact flourescent bulb in my laundry room is not making a huge impact on the global climate crisis and yet I do it anyway.
3. I know myself, and I know that if I keep at this long enough my innocuous ramblings will evolve into vitriolic rants bound to anger and alienate all who stumble upon them.
But I'm doin' it anyway. And I know you are hanging on my every word...
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Old Dog/New Tricks
We are all fond of saying we're lifelong learners. The truth is, though, we resist learning new stuff, and are only lifelong learners 'cause we have to be. We're laying on a sunny beach, trying to relax and luxuriate, but the waves keep washing up over us, warping our sand castles, dredging up all kinds of crawly stuff, and generally roughing our smooth. You can adjust, shore up that sand-castle wall, reapply your sunscreen, but there's always another wave.
If you are grimly set on getting back to your relaxing/luxuriating state (an illusion anyway), you will end up frustrated and cursing those waves. Ah, but if you engage the waves, play in them, cheer them as they breach your sandcastle's defenses, wonder at the wiggly critters they bring you, you will have a more rewarding day at the beach.
If play doesn't do it for you, maybe you are more of a surfer, a person who derives satisfaction from a sense of mastery, from staying on top of that wave, running up and down it, riding it in and going after the next one. It's not play, so much as a challenge.
Or maybe you are the lifeguard, hurling yourself into the waves, reckless of your own safety, to rescue some poor soul who is overcome. (I think most of us can identify with this, at least in part.)
I could go on but I think I already have.
If you are grimly set on getting back to your relaxing/luxuriating state (an illusion anyway), you will end up frustrated and cursing those waves. Ah, but if you engage the waves, play in them, cheer them as they breach your sandcastle's defenses, wonder at the wiggly critters they bring you, you will have a more rewarding day at the beach.
If play doesn't do it for you, maybe you are more of a surfer, a person who derives satisfaction from a sense of mastery, from staying on top of that wave, running up and down it, riding it in and going after the next one. It's not play, so much as a challenge.
Or maybe you are the lifeguard, hurling yourself into the waves, reckless of your own safety, to rescue some poor soul who is overcome. (I think most of us can identify with this, at least in part.)
I could go on but I think I already have.
The Monster Method
I'm a runner. I've been running seriously since January 1, 2000. I run a lot, and if I'm training for a race, a whole lot. I do a half marathon every year and a full marathon every other year. Running has made me pretty damn fit, pretty damn spry.
And yet, something was missing. I tried getting up before dawn every other day and going to the cheap gym I joined to do some feeble, zombied reps on the weight machines. This didn't do anything that pushups on the living room floor wouldn't do, it wasn't any fun, and it was easy to blow off.
Now, my kids take karate at Metro Martial Arts and Fitness on High Street in Columbus. Metro moved into a new location awhile back, and the owner, Vic Magary, had a vision. It involved a large, high-ceilinged storage room at the back of the studio. He fixed it up, but he didn't fancy it up. It has cinder-block walls, a concrete floor, exposed ductwork, no windows...it looks like a dungeon. The dungeon is home to the Monster Method workout.
To call it Old School is kind of trite. It's more like Olde Schoole. Mats. Medicine balls. Barbells. Dumbbells. Kettlebells. Jumpropes. Chinning bars. A tractor tire. And a guy with a stopwatch.
Vic is the guy. Twice a week, at 6:00 a.m., I and anywhere from five to ten other victims do a circuit class of high intensity interval training. The stations, the activities, change from one class to the next. For instance, here's what we did Tuesday morning:
1. I started at the hopscotch station. I know, doesn't exactly sound badass. This is a station where you stand on a mat about 4 feet square with dots arranged in a quincunx. You start with feet on two widely spaced dots at the bottom, bring your feet together as you hop onto the center dot, then out wide again to the dots at the top. And back. Fast. Over and over. Now, I was cool with this. My legs are pretty strong, so this was no biggie--but I should have ended on it, not started on it.
2. Trunk rotation station. Sit on a mat, heels in the air, and touch a medicine ball to the floor on either side of you. Over and over.
3. Rebounder. 20 pound rubber medicine ball, hurl it sideways at the cement wall, get the rebound, do it from the other side. Over and over.
4. Ab wheel. A small wheel with handles on either side, which you grip as you roll from a kneeling position down to a fully extended position, then back. Over and over.
5. Burpee pullups. Urgh. Burpee=squat, then prone, chest on the floor in pushup position, back to a tuck, then extend and jump. Only on the jump, now you grab the bar and end with a pullup. Release the bar and back to your squat. Over and over.
6. Thrusters. Barbell (I used 75lbs today) at chest/shoulder height ("clean" position, is it?), squat down until your butt touches the medicine ball, then fully extend so the barbell is over your head. Then back down, like a piston...over and over.
Each station for 40 seconds, with a 15 second break in between. Four rounds with a minute between rounds.
This is a very, very efficient workout, which is maybe what appeals to me the most. In about a half an hour you get your ass thoroughly kicked, and you never master it because each time you go as hard as you can. More weight, faster reps, variations...You can get good at it, and I've gotten pretty good at it, but it never, ever fails to absolutely wipe you out. (If it does fail to do so, you were doing it wrong.) Oh, oh, oh!--and just when you get comfortable, you go in and Vic has something special planned, like Tabata intervals (google it) or "the human stopwatch", wherein everyone keeps going at their station until one person does a predetermined number of reps on one of the stations. The possibility of special days will keep you on your toes.
The MM has turned out to be the missing piece to my personal fitness strategy. I dread it, but not nearly as much as I look forward to it. I have missed it twice, when I was on vacation. I'm paying more for it than the cheap gym, but it's still pretty damn cheap, and besides, it works.
Do it. I dare you. Do it one time.
And yet, something was missing. I tried getting up before dawn every other day and going to the cheap gym I joined to do some feeble, zombied reps on the weight machines. This didn't do anything that pushups on the living room floor wouldn't do, it wasn't any fun, and it was easy to blow off.
Now, my kids take karate at Metro Martial Arts and Fitness on High Street in Columbus. Metro moved into a new location awhile back, and the owner, Vic Magary, had a vision. It involved a large, high-ceilinged storage room at the back of the studio. He fixed it up, but he didn't fancy it up. It has cinder-block walls, a concrete floor, exposed ductwork, no windows...it looks like a dungeon. The dungeon is home to the Monster Method workout.
To call it Old School is kind of trite. It's more like Olde Schoole. Mats. Medicine balls. Barbells. Dumbbells. Kettlebells. Jumpropes. Chinning bars. A tractor tire. And a guy with a stopwatch.
Vic is the guy. Twice a week, at 6:00 a.m., I and anywhere from five to ten other victims do a circuit class of high intensity interval training. The stations, the activities, change from one class to the next. For instance, here's what we did Tuesday morning:
1. I started at the hopscotch station. I know, doesn't exactly sound badass. This is a station where you stand on a mat about 4 feet square with dots arranged in a quincunx. You start with feet on two widely spaced dots at the bottom, bring your feet together as you hop onto the center dot, then out wide again to the dots at the top. And back. Fast. Over and over. Now, I was cool with this. My legs are pretty strong, so this was no biggie--but I should have ended on it, not started on it.
2. Trunk rotation station. Sit on a mat, heels in the air, and touch a medicine ball to the floor on either side of you. Over and over.
3. Rebounder. 20 pound rubber medicine ball, hurl it sideways at the cement wall, get the rebound, do it from the other side. Over and over.
4. Ab wheel. A small wheel with handles on either side, which you grip as you roll from a kneeling position down to a fully extended position, then back. Over and over.
5. Burpee pullups. Urgh. Burpee=squat, then prone, chest on the floor in pushup position, back to a tuck, then extend and jump. Only on the jump, now you grab the bar and end with a pullup. Release the bar and back to your squat. Over and over.
6. Thrusters. Barbell (I used 75lbs today) at chest/shoulder height ("clean" position, is it?), squat down until your butt touches the medicine ball, then fully extend so the barbell is over your head. Then back down, like a piston...over and over.
Each station for 40 seconds, with a 15 second break in between. Four rounds with a minute between rounds.
This is a very, very efficient workout, which is maybe what appeals to me the most. In about a half an hour you get your ass thoroughly kicked, and you never master it because each time you go as hard as you can. More weight, faster reps, variations...You can get good at it, and I've gotten pretty good at it, but it never, ever fails to absolutely wipe you out. (If it does fail to do so, you were doing it wrong.) Oh, oh, oh!--and just when you get comfortable, you go in and Vic has something special planned, like Tabata intervals (google it) or "the human stopwatch", wherein everyone keeps going at their station until one person does a predetermined number of reps on one of the stations. The possibility of special days will keep you on your toes.
The MM has turned out to be the missing piece to my personal fitness strategy. I dread it, but not nearly as much as I look forward to it. I have missed it twice, when I was on vacation. I'm paying more for it than the cheap gym, but it's still pretty damn cheap, and besides, it works.
Do it. I dare you. Do it one time.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
