Memo to the past: f%#k off

There's a great Facebook page for word nerds (and I am most definitely one) called Word Porn. Today, I noticed the above photo on their site. And it got me thinking....

I am not going to write that note to myself.

Because it wouldn't be just two words long because I am a loquacious bastard? Yeah. Ha. But there's more to it than that.

Every one of us has a past -- full of things to be proud of, but also, almost undoubtedly, containing some behavior that, given the chance to relive the moment, a lot of us would choose to modify.

I'm fairly certain that the note that you would write to your former self isn't going to say, "Nice job! Keep up the good work!"

Not that it shouldn't, mind you, but most of you know it wouldn't.

You'd get fixated on that thing -- or those things -- that could've (...should've...would've...) been better if only....

Fuck "if only...."

Really. Take "if only" out back, beat it senseless and leave it there to die.

Sure, learn from your mistakes, but that learning process isn't an excuse to revisit past transgressions and torture yourself over them. Move on. Live your life. Being the best you can be today actually has nothing to do with whatever you did five, ten, twenty or more years ago. Or what was done to you.

Nothing.

(And if you think I am going to suggest that meditation/mindfulness might help you out with this stuff.... I think I just did).

You truly have no choice but to get over it -- whatever "it" is. We've all fucked up and been done wrong (and lived lives that would be punk-rock lyrics if only we were that clever), but the only potential difference between you and the next guy or gal in that regard is whether you are still dwelling on all of that today, or kicking "if only" in the tender parts and moving on to live your life.

We call that "progress."

The greatest thing that hits me on a frequent basis from my time with paleo living, CrossFit, etc. is that people are never too old, too fat, too shy, too slow or too broken to make a positive change. How you get there depends almost entirely on you, today. Not yesterday's you. And most definitely not the you that did (or didn't do) ______ many years ago. I see people coming into paleo, and into the gym, in all shapes and sizes, trying to move on. And up. And it's inspiring as hell.

So what are you doing today? Making things better for yourself and those around you? I hope so.

(And start with liking that Word Porn page. It'll make you smarter; I swear).





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Musician 1 - Rude guy with phone 0

Last night, I witnessed the classiest, quietest smackdown I have seen in a while.

I was standing at the bar just a few feet from the side of the stage at Johnny Brenda's in Philadelphia. Malia James, bass player for the Dum Dum Girls, leaned down between songs and said, quietly but firmly -- to the guy whose beer had already been teetering so perilously close to her various pedals that she had spent some of the previous songs blocking the approach of said beer with her foot -- "Excuse me, but do you have any idea how rude you are being right now?"

He (and his sloshy beer) had been on the phone together. Texting. For a while. While he leaned over the edge of the stage. Five musicians were on that stage playing their asses off. He was completely ignoring them, head down, looking at the phone, with his screen turned up to brightness-level "Totally Obnoxious." Texting. Fucking texting. For most of a song.

So she said something.

And he put the phone away, with a look that indicated he had never previously considered what a self-involved turd he is.

It was so quick, awesome and effective that my wife, standing next to me, didn't even see it happen. I was filled with fellow-musician pride.

The cell-phone plague at shows is bad enough already. Morons are filming large chunks of entire shows, blocking the views of those behind them with bright screens held in the air. That's bad enough. But when the idiotic behavior starts affecting the musicians onstage, it's gone completely over the edge.

Just put your phone away while the band is onstage.

Cheers, Malia. Well-played.

                                          Photo: thecomune.com
                               

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Floating in a saltwater sensory-deprivation tank in Philly. Oh. My. God….

"Who doesn't want to disappear, at some point in a day, in a year, to just step off the map and float?"
            -- Nick Flynn (from "Another Bullshit Night in Suck City"**)

If you traverse these parts often, or even a little, you'll notice that I have a bit of a thing for the mind-body connection. My brain is my best asset, and, occasionally -- and that seems to be at 3 a.m. if at all -- my worst enemy. And that's neither hubris nor craziness. It's likely true for you too. Your brain controls your own surfboard on the waves of life, but as the Internet meme goes, "I got 99 problems, and 86 of them are complete bullshit that I made up in my own head." Let the balancing act begin….

When the mind takes a hard right turn for the dark places, the body usually follows. A little anxiety about an upcoming whatever, and I get a little stomach pain, a little lost sleep, maybe even the dreaded 3 a.m. worry-wakeup. And, conversely, when the head is soaring, well, that's when I have those days that edge toward perfection.

I vote for more days like that.

(And I'll sidetrack for a moment to say that my anxiety is always (ALWAYS!) about the future. I have no hangups about the past. My particular superpower is to be able to Crush All Bad Shit that has ever happened to me. I learn from it, and move on -- a good thing. But, whatever bonus mental-outlook points I get for that particular sparkling attitude can get lost sometimes amidst the "what ifs" of the future. They can bog me down if I don't keep them in perspective. So I try….)

There's a float tank in this story, I swear.

Anyway…. another thing you might recall is that I get past the bad spots with meditation. The brain-emptying Zen smash of a regular meditation routine is, for me, unmatched. It keeps me calm. It makes me prioritize and compartmentalize what needs to be dealt with. It flushes anxiety away.

I've even gone on here about why I think open-eyes/in-the-moment Zen meditation has an edge on almost any other stress-relief technique. Spacing out/chilling out is awesome in its proper time and place. But it's not the same as emptying your present moment and letting that emptiness floss the bad bits out of your brain.

So what the hell am I doing in a space-out saltwater sensory-deprivation flotation tank at Halcyon Floats at 10 a.m. on a Sunday morning in Philadelphia?

Chilling way out.

Remember, I didn't tell you there was no value in relaxation. In fact, I told you relaxation is amazing. It's just not the same as open-eyes meditation.

A couple months back I noticed that Skylee Robinson was tweeting frequently about the wonders of floating. I asked her if she would like to do a guest post here about it. She did, and it was great. The post received tons of hits, and, better yet, she got me interested in floating.

Just as I can ask you when the last time your mind was truly empty as a way to entice you to try a month or so of daily meditation, let me ask you this: when is the last time you just stopped? With no input but the thoughts in your head? For 90 minutes? That dead stop is what floating does. Or at least it's part of it.

The basics of a floatation-tank experience are pretty simple.

The water in the tank is about 12 inches deep, and contains 800 pounds of epsom salts. It's saltier than the Dead Sea. Anyone will float in it. The water is also close to body temperature. The tank itself is soundproofed and pitch-black (in theory anyway… more on that in a moment). The idea is that, once floating, you lose the edges, blurring the defining points between where the body ends and the water begins. The chill is, according to the hype, extreme.

So, I arrived at Halcyon Floats for my 10 a.m. appointment a few minutes early. After a quick briefing on the tank, and a quick shower, I plunged in.

Tell someone you are going to a float-tank place and you get interesting reactions like:

-- "Oh my god, I'd freak out."
-- "I don't know if I could calm down enough to enjoy it."
-- "I'm not sure I like myself enough to be alone with me for that long."

And so on….

Having a pretty strong base in meditation, I wasn't worried about any of that. In fact, I wasn't worried about anything. I was raring to go.

So, about ten minutes in, once I had fully taken in the initial warm dip into the water, laid my head back on one of those inflatable neck pillows that you see on airplanes, and gotten my eyes accustomed to the dark, and my ears to the quiet, I was having a few thoughts. None of them were the pleasant buzz i had anticipated:

--"What the hell is that noise?"
--"No, really, what the hell is that noise?"
-- "You know, it's really not pitch-black in here. There is a tiny bit of light bleeding in from the crack in the door and from down near the pipes near my feet."

I closed my eyes. Light "problems" disappeared. But the noise was still distracting. I'm still not clear what it was -- an almost imperceptible static-y buzz that came and went. But good god, once I heard it, and it went on and off for another ten minutes or so, it was killing me. It was not constant, and not rhythmic. I began to wonder if it was the newly installed sound system buzzing. But it wasn't *that* loud. Whatever it was, it was the opposite of relaxing.

I opened my eyes. The light that was ever-so-slightly coming in through the cracks began pissing me off too.

Then I remembered what I was told in the orientation: "You probably are going to want to turn the ceiling lights off before you get in the tank. There's a little night-light over here that will still be on in the room, but this way it won't be so bright when you get out."

Oh, right…. Shit, I left the (big! bright!) lights on.

I popped the hatch. All the light in the universe blinded me for a moment, and then I killed the light switch. Darkness! The weird buzzing noise stopped too (I guess it was the lights?).

I shut the hatch.

I headed for Awesome.

The difference between the next hour or so and what had preceded it was the same as the comparison between, say, London Calling and Cut the Crap. Between Rust Never Sleeps and Landing on Water. Between "Gimme Shelter" and "Emotional Rescue."

You get the idea.

The minor annoyances of the first 20 minutes disappeared into a very deep haze.

I simultaneously disappeared into a very deep trance. It was truly unlike anything I have ever experienced. That whole "loss of the edges of the body" thing? Yeah. In spades. I felt my pulse slow down to endurance-athlete levels. My breathing was a sound that joined me in the tank, but seemed oddly disconnected from anything going on in my own body. I drifted, in every sense of the word.

When gentle music finally came on to signify that my time was up, I felt more relaxed than, well, ever.

And it's still not the same (for me, anyway) as meditation. But wow, is it ever worthwhile.

I showered the salty slime away, had a cup of tea and a nice conversation with the woman who had been in the float tank in the other room during the same time, and headed out into a day that had a special glow to it, all day long.

Wow. I'll be back.

But there are a few things I will do differently next time:

-- obviously (duh) heed the suggestion to kill the big lights before heading into the tank.
-- ditch the inflatable pillow and use the earplugs that are offered (to keep out water more than sound). The only parts of my body that never really floated "away" completely were my head and neck. The pillow was a constant reminder of an "attachment" that I could do without next time.
-- opt out of the cooling fan that was offered for the tank. The water ended up ever so slightly cooler than body temp as a result. I accepted the fan because I tend to run hot, but overheating wasn't an issue at all. If anything, the water temp was just slightly cooler than optimal.

But those are all just "tweaks" to an otherwise wonderful experience.

Another positive that I didn't necessarily expect -- beyond the deep and abiding chill: when I went into Halcyon, my knees were aching from this week's CrossFit adventures. 90 minutes of Epsom-salt soaking later? 51-year-old dude is in no pain. Boom.

Really, if any of this experience sounds at all vaguely attractive to you, you owe it to yourself to give it a try. I can't promise that you will love floating as much as I did. But with the potential for such a deep, relaxing, transformative impact on you, isn't it worth one visit, at least?

Me? I'll be back very soon. And regularly.

*******************************************

**a.k.a. the best damn book you have never read. It rides the thin razor's edge between "harrowing" and "amazing" like nothing else I have run across in a long time. The author is working in a homeless shelter full of the mentally ill. In walks Dad, as a client. Yes, really. Read it. Now.

The value of a truly genuine compliment

I am not someone who thinks I need a lot of affirmation that I do a good job at work. I have been at it for many years, and I know what I am doing when I go to do my day job (the specifics of which we never ever discuss here, you may recall...).

So, something surprised me the other day.

First, someone from outside my office, whose work I respect a lot, said really nice things about some particular efforts of mine. And then, the next day, a very high-ranking official in my field (can you tell I am being purposely vague?) gave my efforts over the years in front of him and his peers a more global, far-reaching compliment when we happened to be riding on the same elevator. The first was cool. The second was completely unexpected, and, consequently, whatever better than "cool" is, especially considering the source.

And it got me to thinking....

A really genuine compliment -- particularly from someone who is an esteemed member of his or her field -- is a truly valuable thing.

Most of us toil away at our chosen path in life without a whole lot of positive feedback. Yeah, there are job-performance evaluations and the like. But those are often bullshit forms filled out only because some bullshit bureaucrat said they should be. A positive review like that means little to the recipient.

But it's different when the Big Kahuna, whoever that may be in a particular field -- you know, the Man or Woman in Charge of Everything -- takes time out of his or her busy day to say something genuinely complimentary to a non-peer. I think it's even more special when that person only occasionally hands out that kind of praise.

So.... Be aware of this fact, Mr. or Ms. Big Cheese: a really genuine compliment matters. No, don't go handing out praise left and right. That just cheapens the whole deal, and is as meaningless as that fake smile you get from the realtor (or teller or whomever) as they tell you, "Thanks *so* much," for something trivial. But when you see someone, particularly below you on the ladder of your profession, really kicking ass on a regular basis, tell that person that you appreciate his or her efforts. Do so in a real and genuine way. And you will make the world a little better, more-caring place. You may also truly brighten that person's day, week or month. And what's better than that?

Because, as a fairly common Internet meme tells us, almost everyone is struggling with something that's invisible to most of us. So, when it's appropriate, try and lighten people's loads by letting them know that their hard work is appreciated. It could be more important to them than a paycheck. Really.


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Down on sleep? Kill the alarm, when you can

Back in the pre-CrossFit days, my wife and I used to go to the gym every morning. Up by 5 or 5:30, and out the door by 6 or so. When CrossFit started, we scaled back the number of days that we worked out, but we still usually went first thing in the morning.

And that meant setting an alarm. Alarms are cool if you have the personal discipline to go to bed by a (pretty early) certain time every night, but it seems that life often intrudes on any semblance of a "regular" bedtime. And when that bedtime creeps later, the next morning's alarm transforms from a gentle taskmaster to a drill sergeant.

So, lately, we have started with a new approach when we can: no alarm. Under the theory that if we aren't well-rested enough to wake up on our own, maybe we should be rethinking that early-a.m. workout schedule, we began sleeping in just a little. A little, mind you... not a lot. We have jobs. More importantly, we have dogs, who would wake us up to eat, eventually ("eventually"= by about 7 o'clock). But, let me assure you that there is an enormous difference between waking up at 5 a.m. and getting up at 7. There is also a big difference between the jolt of an alarm clock and waking up when your body actually feels like it. And if we want to go to the gym, there are still late-afternoon/early-evening CrossFit classes that we can get to. Or not. And we are good with that.

There is some truth to the notion that unless you are actually getting up at sunrise and going to bed around sunset, you are a sleep "hacker" to at least a degree. But let's face it, that means that we are *all* sleep hackers. So does that mean we should just throw in the towel and wing it when it comes to getting a good night's rest? No. You can still carve out a decent portion of your night for some quality shut-eye.

There's, first and foremost, shutting down your electronics earlier than you do now (says the guy typing at night, on an iPad), and then there's getting to bed earlier. But don't forget the "sleeping in a little" trick. Unless you have taken The Big Leap and decided that you are training for CrossFit as a "sport," rather than as a health/longevity aid, you are probably better off getting quality sleep and foregoing a few trips to the gym each week than you are beating the bejeezus out of yourself by dragging yourself to CrossFit on five hours' sleep.

And I know... This is "sleep in a little" advice from someone who doesn't have young kids or other reasons to be awake at a very early hour no matter what every morning. So if this tip doesn't work for you, then so be it. But maybe, just maybe, you are a (young-)childless workaholic who needs to examine just why the hell you are dragging yourself out of bed to beat yourself into a cortisol-filled coma some mornings. Believe me.... *that's* not doing you any favors.

And yeah, it's taken me a while to catch on to this little fact myself. I will be at p.m. CrossFit even a little more than usual....




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Paleo FX 2014: bigger, better and hey! I'm on a panel!

Last year, I went to the Paleo FX conference in Austin, Texas. I had a blast (paradoxically eating more off-the-map food in a few days than I normally do in a few months.... mmmm chocolate bourbon pecan pie at the 24 Diner). I learned a lot, and -- despite said gastronomical diversions -- I returned home more committed than ever to this lifestyle.

This year, from April 10-13, I am headed back to Austin for Paleo FX 2014.

It's bigger (more stages) and better (more smart speakers, something like ten NYT best-selling authors!) and I'm actually there to participate this time, not just hang in the background while learning a lot.

You may recall that Kendall Kendrick from Primal Balance asked me last year to be a guest on her podcast. It was great fun, and her followup to my podcast appearance was to offer me a spot on a "mastermind panel" at PFX this year.

Of course I jumped at the chance.

I believe my exact response when she first asked was: "That sounds vaguely terrifying. But sure. And thanks!"

The terror has long since subsided, and now I am just excited to do this thing. On the panel -- beside me and Kendall -- are Darryl Edwards, Dr. Daniel Stickler and Kyle Maynard. And the whole thing is moderated by Tony Federico.

It's an impressive, inspiring group of people that I get to share the stage with, and I couldn't be more honored to participate. The panel is called "Beyond Food," and our focus is on all the other things a paleo person can do, other than paleo eating, to maximize his or her health and wellbeing. Unsurprisingly (at least for anyone who hangs out here), my focus will be on the positive, quieting and life-changing aspects of regular meditation.

As of the date that I am posting this, the official schedule is not out yet, but I will update the post as soon as we get the official word on the date and time of our panel. UPDATE: we are on the "cooking demo" stage at 1:35 p.m. on Sunday!

I am really looking forward to this experience, along with meeting a lot more of you paleo folks. Last year, I put a lid on my usual conversational/social self and concentrated on learning as much as possible. I left PFX thrilled, inspired, full of great Austin food, and... sworn to be more social next time.

Next time is almost here. If you are going to the conference, make sure to say hi. Let's hang out, shoot the proverbial shit and enjoy some great food and drink. This will be fun.




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You vs. your brain, in the middle of the night, a.k.a. another meditation post

The 3 a.m. anxiety demons take a while to show up to wreck my sleep. Everyone has his or her own version of stress. Mine isn't a tidal wave. It's a slow leak. And, theoretically, at least, I should be able to see it coming. Maybe work is a little heavier than usual, or, back when my dad was alive -- but not really living -- the issues of dealing with his dementia could pile up in my brain. Add a few extra drinks, maybe a late night or two and what seems manageable becomes a near-comical middle-of-the-night clusterfuck.

 A recent version went like this: heavy work stuff added up and up and up, and a couple nights I was up later than usual, not because of work -- because of fun. Nothing seemed crazy, but I skipped my meditation practice a number of those days too. "Suddenly" -- read: not actually suddenly at all -- I woke up at 1 a.m. when the dogs heard something, and, instead of just drifting back to sleep in seconds like I do normally, I had a thought, and another thought and then another, and before I knew it, it was almost 3 a.m. and my heart was pounding over stuff that, by that point, I was just making up.

But one's capacity for imagination and anxiety is never better than at 3 a.m.

I tried a quick-fix remedy that often works -- just go walk around the house, maybe have a quick drink of water.

Something about moving often resets the slightly-stressed brain.

But that didn't do it. So there I was, at three in the morning, sitting on a pillow on the floor, staring at a wall.

Ten minutes of meditation. At three in the fucking morning.

I went back to bed and konked out almost immediately.

"Whatever it takes" is my new mantra.

See, like I said at the outset of this little spiel, everyone has his or her own stress. You can only pretend to understand mine, and I yours. I don't "get" people who can't let go of the past. That's not my particular version of hell. I can detach from actual events that have really happened and erase their negativity from my brain with no problem. My issue with "living in the present moment" is the future. I can't just wing that shit. I need to plan, at least a little. But planning, in the hands of the over-planner, can become, well, over-planning. In the hands of the over-planner who is also a perfectionist about stuff he cares about, whether it be playing music or working that day job that I have that we (still) never talk about here, over-planning can become a bit of anxiety.

And in the hands of that guy, when he skips his meditation practice for a few days, the "bit of anxiety" creeps and crawls and drips and leaks until the 3 a.m. anxiety demons make an early call at 1 a.m.

You get the idea. If meditation fixes the bad stuff -- and it does for me -- don't skip it, any more than you would skip eating. And if you aren't on the meditation bandwagon yet, whether your stress is a slow leak or a tsunami, you might want to give it a shot.

Whatever it takes. Whatever. It. Takes. Be strong. Deal with the bad shit.

The Winter Olympics? Totally inspirational.

I love sports -- playing them, watching them, all of the above. But, as I've certainly made clear here previously, I get tired of the me-first attitude of so many athletes in the "big" professional sports. So I've always had a real affinity for the games where that ego-driven stuff is minimized.

Back in the pre-cable/satellite-TV days as a kid, ABC's Wide World of Sports would bring what we'll call The Weird Sports into the lives of us suburban kids. One day we'd be playing good ol' American football in the neighborhood, and the next we'd be trying to replicate something freaky like Irish hurling (by and large a poor idea, I'll have you know), that we'd seen on Wide World of Sports, or we'd stage our own decathlon, heaving sticks (javelin) and rocks (shot put), and running all over hell and back (all the other events) through the neighbors' yards.

But, with the limitations of climate (where I grew up in suburban Philadelphia just wasn't all that consistently cold), some sports were too weird even for us to try and imitate.

We called those the Winter Olympics.

God, I love the Winter Olympics. To this day, they leave me giddy with anticipation in the weeks leading up to them, and full of joy for the two weeks that they are around every four years.

The winter games are packed solid with sports that kids would invent if they: (1) lived in a very cold place, (2) owned sleds, skis, snowboards and target guns, and (3) were concerned with only one thing: unremitting fun.

They are also the last bastion of awesomely weird in the sports world.

And I realize that my perspective on this topic is shaped considerably by the fact that, as an American, it seems that only one sport that's in the winter games is regularly on television here -- men's hockey. There's may be a country where you can watch the Curling Super Bowl (I think that country is probably called Canada). Somewhere, undoubtedly, the World Series of Biathlon is big stuff, and cross-country-ski racing is all the rage, but not here.

Here are the sports being contested at the Sochi games:

--Alpine skiing
--Biathlon
--Bobsled
--Cross-country skiing
--Curling
--Figure skating
--Freestyle skiing
--Ice hockey
--Luge
--Nordic combined
--Short-track speed skating
--Skeleton
--Ski jumping
--Snowboarding
--Speed skating

Take alpine skiing and men's hockey off the list, for the moment. They are great sports, and in the case of NHL hockey, it's truly one of my favorites, but the American Olympic competitors in those sports are pros who are generally not scraping by on ramen noodles. (And take figure skating off the list because… I hate it, and I'm sure that's my fault and not theirs, but blech…).

What's left, from an American perspective, is a complete freak scene. A glorious, wonderful I-just-want-to-hang-out-with-them-all freak scene, full of wacky sports with athletes who have to balance hardcore training with scraping together enough in the way of sponsorships that, if they are lucky, they don't have to work 9-to-5 day jobs while doing that training. It's also seemingly loaded with folks who are in this thing for the simple reason that they love it.

I'm a sucker for a great back-story, and, just as I enjoy a band more when I not only dig their music, but think they are great people as well, I want to really like an athlete as a person. The Winter Olympics are as full of great human-interest back-stories and wonderful people as they are loaded with mindbending thrill rides.

Where else would the guy who was about to win the gold medal in slopestyle snowboarding tweet: "Whoa how random is this[?] I made finals at the Olympics!!" And judging by the reaction of his fellow competitors, they all were "stoked" for Sage Kotsenburg, not self-absorbed in their own losses. In the women's halfpipe, you could watch Kaitlyn Farrington, in her first games, have to ride all day, because she missed the easy ticket to the finals, and then turn around and tenaciously win the gold medal over vets like Torah Bright, Kelly Clark and Hannah Teter -- all while the four of them looked like they were just there to have a good time.

And then there's Bode Miller. I used to think of him years ago as a bit of a brash, cocky skier who maybe needed to tone down his ego. Now he's the quiet, reserved, 36-year-old bronze medalist in super-G who was skiing with the heavy burden of the memory of his recently-deceased brother. It was amazing to watch him overcome all of that with patience, reserve and grace. He was pure class.

And mine wasn't the only heart that was breaking for John Daly, the 28-year-old slider whose skeleton sled popped out of the groove just into the start of what might have been his bronze medal run -- a sadness mitigated only by the fact that it cleared the way for his teammate, Matt Antoine, to hold onto that bronze.

The stories go on and on. Every day I run into another one that moves me to pay a little extra attention to an event and to one or more of the competitors.

But if one Olympic athlete's saga has stood out just a little more than the others, it's been the tale of 29-year-old skeleton athlete Katie Uhlaender. Last Thursday, I just happened to be tuning in when the women were taking their first of two skeleton runs that morning. Skeleton is a crazy sport to begin with. It's essentially headfirst luge -- something I saw way back when on Wide World of Sports at the old Cresta run in St. Moritz -- precisely the sort of controlled/chaotic blend that attracts me to the winter games in the first place. (In the early 1980s, I was so intrigued by luge that I almost went to a luge training camp… really. And my crappy car at the time was the only thing that stopped me, but I digress...).  I heard Katie Uhlaender's name announced, and, as NBC started one of those "up close and personal" video histories of her, I realized why her last name sounded so incredibly familiar. Her dad, Ted, played on the 1972 Cincinnati Reds. I was a kid back then, but I remember it well: that Big Red Machine team was a legend, and the '72 league-championship series with the Pirates was a down-to-the-last-game nail-biter. Ted Uhlaender's daughter, sporting a glorious shock of red hair, and a determined look, was about to make her first skeleton run of the 2014 games.

Well, I quickly learned from NBC how deep-seated her determination was. It turns out that Ted Uhlaender died of cancer in 2009, and Katie took his death hard -- really hard. After a sixth-place finish in Turin in 2006, she was hoping for great things at Vancouver in 2010, but Ted's death wrecked her, and she had a disappointing finish in those games. Thereafter, there were successes -- a couple of world cup championships -- but also a concussion just this past October. Slowly, Katie Uhlaender got it all together again, with the help of people as diverse as Picabo Street and Charlie Manuel (and really, if there's a better, more decent human being in baseball than Charlie, I haven't heard of him, but that's another digression as well.). She even took over the operations at Ted's farm, a 700+-acre spread in northwestern Kansas that Katie once professed she just didn't understand, but now it was home, and a place to rekindle all the good thoughts about her dad. As of Thursday morning, Katie Uhlaender stood on the brink of a serious punk-rock/hell-yeah/phoenix-from-the-ashes comeback, and, just barely into the NBC video of her struggles, I was completely hooked on the whole damn story -- zero-to-60 mph fandom in about three seconds. "Go!!!!!" I yelled at the TV on her first run. And then, by the time run #2 had ended, she was in fourth place, poised on the edge of a bronze-medal-winning position. Nice.

I noted that the final two runs were the next day, checked out when they'd be aired, and made plans to watch. I even did a little more research on the subject of my my newfound fandom -- reading some stuff about her dad that took me right back to my baseball-heavy childhood, noticing a pic of Katie Uhlaender on her Twitter feed in a squat rack with 300 pounds on her back, and soon learning that she is an aspiring weightlifter, hoping to make the 2016 U.S. team for the Rio Summer Olympics. (Yes, really. I thought the same thing: "Are you kidding me? She's a weightlifter too?!")

I would love to tell you about the amazing happy ending in Sochi, about how Katie Uhlaender shed every last bit of both the doldrums of 2009 and her concussion of 2013, and won an Olympic medal. Instead, it all came down to being on the wrong side of 0.04 seconds. Despite having her best run of the competition on the fourth and final slide, and her main opponent, Elena Nikitina, having an awful last run, Uhlaender nevertheless was bested by Nikitina for the bronze medal -- by 0.04 seconds.

0.04 seconds is less than time than you can consciously do anything. Losing by that little is truly the harsh randomness of the universe slapping you upside the head. And this is where my admiration for this woman, and her amazing back-story, just got greater. She could have acted like she got robbed, like there was funny business going on with the timing, like all the spoiled-brat "professional"athletes of our day might. Instead, she was sad -- who wouldn't be? -- but her grace in defeat, which changed after not very long to talk of the next winter games, in Korea in 2018, was inspiring. She was on television in the ensuing days with her silver-medal-winning teammate Noelle Pikus-Pace, and there wasn't a hint of envy in Katie Uhlaender's voice, just praise for her friend (who had another of the many great back-stories at these games as well), and the determination to get even better results in the future.

And what you could hear in Katie Uhlaender's responses in all those post-race interviews was an unstated truth: Sad stuff happens, but life eventually goes on. Judging by the way she's handled adversity so far these last few years, I think Korea 2018's going to be epic for Katie Uhlaender.**

I already know it's going to be epic for me, because, man... I love the Winter Olympics. More amazing back-stories, please?


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**Seriously, with her work ethic, she could overcome the considerable hurdles to make the summer games in Rio as a weightlifter. I've seen the American Weightlifting movie that Greg Everett released last year. (And so should you, by the way). Making the Olympics is a long hard slog in that sport, but Katie Uhlaender has that inner strength that's needed to make a good run at it. (And if not, good lord, she'd be a good CrossFit Games athlete once Korea 2018 is over…. )

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Modifying your CrossFit workout to fit your goals, or: When to tell your ego to get f*%$ed

I love CrossFit. You may have heard that here before.

But CrossFit isn't a "one size fits all" program. It's pretty likely that you have heard someone from CF HQ expounding upon the "scalability" of all things CrossFit. It truly is one of the assets of the CF system. But I bet you think about one thing when you hear talk of "scaling" a workout:

"Scaling is for newbies."

I don't mean to imply that you have a sneer of superiority on your face when you say that. (I'll assume you don't). One of the purposes of scaling a workout is certainly that, yeah, maybe sometimes someone shows up at the local box for the first time and he or she is in better shape for beer pong than for the workout of the day. Too many years on the couch, and pullups aren't going to happen right off the bat. Or maybe someone's nemesis is the box jump, or the snatch, or... whatever movement he or she isn't quite up to doing when the person begins CF.

There is simply no doubt that "scaling" a workout down in reps, or modifying movements, is a way to get a new CrossFitter over the initial hump of "I can't do that."

But it's not the only way to scale, or the only reason for doing so.

Most people understand that there is an enormous difference between doing CrossFit for general health and fitness and actually competing in CrossFit as a "sport." But I think the impression is that the principal distinction between the two is that the "CF as a sport" CrossFitters just do more than whatever workout that the health/longevity/fitness folks are doing. The "sport" CrossFitters are the ones trying to qualify for regionals, competing in the CF Open not just to get some idea of where they stack up against the monsters of the game, but because they want to join the monsters and throw down at the highest levels of the sport So you will find them doing extra work, often a lot of extra work.

And that's cool. It makes sense because the extra effort fits their goals.

But let's get back to the health/longevity/fitness crew. Even after the newbie phase has passed, and those CrossFitters don't "need" to scale workouts down, are their goals all the same?

Probably not. A typical CF box -- let's say, the one that I belong to, for instance -- has in its membership all sorts of people who will tell you they are there for reasons of general fitness, long life, happiness, etc., as opposed to an effort to qualify for regionals in the "sport"' of CrossFit. But within that fairly large group of people who are, ostensibly, just there to "get fit and stay that way," there is a lot of variation. There are young people, and 50-somethings like me (or older), and everything in between. There are toned, muscular, already-fit folks who are occasionally dabbling in local competitions between boxes, and then there are people who are there just because they want to improve body composition and would like to pick up heavy things around the house -- like their kids, or grandkids -- without pain. In fact, sometimes members of that latter group get so damned fit that they start thinking about joining the former crew and hitting a throwdown at a local box.

And here's the catch: within all those groups are a myriad of different goals. Different goals can present options for "scaling" a workout that go far past that "newbie" shit that you associated scaling with when you first started reading this.

Here's the dirty secret for most of us: scaling often makes sense, but it's our egos that are stopping us from doing smart, intelligent training modifcations that fit our goals.

Example #1:

Maybe your box is doing the "Filthy Fifty." Although you can finish that workout, it's going to take you 40 minutes to do so. You are slow at those movements and you are also unhappy with your body composition. In fact, you joined CrossFit to "burn off" some fat that's accumulated over the last few years. The best prescription for fat burning that I know of is contained in Jason Seib's book The Paleo Coach, and the exercise component of that plan is: heavy lifting a few days a week, walking every day and a few short sprint-length metcons per week. If fat loss is your goal, what exactly are you doing grinding out a 40-minute metcon? I can tell you what you are not doing: heavy lifting and a short sprint-style metcon. And you are probably so smoked from the 40-minute grind that the walking part of a fat-loss program is not going to happen that day either. You've just jacked up your cortisol levels so high from prolonged, excessive exercise stress that you may very well have added fat to your midsection. By doing a workout you probably shouldn't have done. Yes. Really.

Example #2:

You're an older dude -- say... a 50-something drummer with a somewhat gnarled right arm from years of the music grind. You are doing CF solely to live long, strong-ish and healthy. Olympic lifts? Some of 'em are OK. Snatches and cleans feel all right in singles or pairs, but jerks? Not so much. And none of the O-lifts feels good when done in a repetitive fashion, like 30 cleans as part of a metcon, or 30 snatches. They just plain fucking hurt in that kind of volume. Today's metcon is a 1000m row, followed by 30 power cleans. But you "suck it up" and do it as prescribed, even though you knew that you could substitute kettlebell swings for those cleans with almost no pain at all. Your right elbow is on fire afterwards.

I can only think of two reasons that you might have made either of those mistakes: (1) you didn't know any better, in Example #1 because you have never read similar advice from that book (and a lot of other sources) to go short, hard and heavy for fat loss, or, in Example #2, because it is literally the first time you ever tried repetitive O-lifts, or (2) you actually knew all of that, but you felt "dumb" or didn't want to stick out as the "weird kid" by modifying the first workout to a shorter version (e.g., "the Terrible Twenties"), or the second to include KB swings. I get the first reason, but now you know, so that won't be the reason next time. The second reason is your ego, plain and simple. You didn't want to "stick out" by scaling or modifying the workout.

You can't blame your trainer, because your trainer -- if he or she is worth the money you pay -- is never going to tell a client that the client can't "scale" a workout to reach a goal or to avoid further injury. You can't blame your momma, because she always told you not to give a fuck what the other kids say -- although it's possible she was a little more polite about it.

This one is on you.

Let's give your ego the b-slap it needs.... Scaling or modifying a metcon -- or even a heavy lift -- isn't just for newbies. It's called knowing your goals and working out in a smart way to achieve them.

Maybe you are the next Rich Fucking Froning (yes, that's actually his middle name), and striving for CF Games glory. Have at it, dude. Train like a beast. Or maybe you are a pretty fit CFer who is really happy with where you are at body-comp and fitness-wise, but you want to take a stab at some local CF competitions. Yeah, you probably shouldn't do a lot of downward scaling below the level of where those competions will be. In fact, you might want to occasionally scale upwards to test yourself to see if you are ready to try to reach those goals. But maybe, just maybe, you are like me -- because I'm the barely-disguised dude in Example #2 -- and want just to stay fit, decently strong and free of further injury. Or maybe you see yourself in Example #1, at the stage of CrossFit where what you want the most is to get fitter and drop a few sizes -- you know, fat loss is your primary goal right now. You may need to scale/modify downward on a workout. And, if you do, you should hold your head high, do the workout that works for you, and politely tell your ego to fuck off.

Smart exercise is no different than smart eating. What you do, and how you do it, depends on your goals. Life: modify as necessary.

ApoE, lipids and alcohol, or: "How I learned to stop worrying and love the [Jager] bomb"**

Ten days ago, I lost my mind just a little bit.

The loss was, as always, temporary, but, as my wife can most assuredly tell you, this time was a little worse than "usual."

As I have told you plenty of times previously, I started going to a paleo doctor last summer. He runs super-extensive NMR (nuclear magnetic resonance) blood testing that not only gives readings for lipids in measurements that aren't found in your "typical" bloodwork, but also provides results on inflammation markers and informs the patient about his or her genotype in some critical areas.

Last August, my NMR bloodwork showed zero inflammation, high HDL and low triglycerides -- all great. But it also showed an LDL-P (LDL particle number) that was higher than optimal. The paleo doc wasn't terribly concerned. But he suggested low-dose fish oil and some Vitamin D supplementation because my D was a little low and my Omega-6/Omega-3 ratio was about 3.5/1.

Off I went with those recommendations, and a couple of minor dietary tweaks, but nothing significant.

In late January, I got retested to see what the new results would be. There was a lot to like: HDL is even higher (whoo!). Triglycerides are the same (whoo! again). Vitamin D levels were up 50% (in the winter!) and the O-6/O-3 ratio was down under 2.4/1 (awesome).

But, especially when it comes to my own health, I could find the dark cloud of doom in a sky otherwise full of lollipops and sunshine. While I was happy with the good results, something else caught my attention: every single measurement of LDL cholesterol was up 40%.

Forty fucking percent. From "kinda high" to what I consider "astronomical."

In just six months. Six months!

LDL-P, LDL-C, small dense LDL…. Whatever I looked at, my various LDL numbers screamed to me: "Son, you gonna die soon. Probably later this afternoon."

But, in a moderately successful (my wife might say "barely successful") effort not to spazz out completely, I started scouring my brain for possible reasons for the bad increase. Logic told me that it had to be something that I had either added to my diet, or had taken away. Added? Vitamin D? No. That wouldn't do it. Fish oil? I used to take five times*** the amount of fish oil that I take now and it didn't raise my LDL a point. Had I taken something away completely?

"Ohhhhhhhhh... wait," my weary, stressed brain said, "What about alcohol? Can removing alcohol from your diet completely actually increase your LDL?"

Or, put differently, can drinking moderate amounts of alcohol lower one's LDL?

As any regular reader of this blog knows, last August -- just barely before my previous bloodwork -- I quit drinking alcohol. It wasn't for reasons related to addiction. I just noticed that my gym performance, and, to a lesser degree, my mood and general outlook were a little rosier when ethanol was gone from my life. So, during the entire time between bloodwork #1 and #2, I hadn't been drinking at all****.

So off I went to Dr. Google…. What I found blew my mind. We'll divide it into two parts:

1. THE SCIENCE-Y PART

Apolipoprotein E (ApoE) helps to regulate how the body deals with cholesterol, particularly triglycerides and LDL. There is a genetic test for ApoE that is part of my paleo doc's bloodwork panel that he orders. Indeed, there are a number of genetic tests performed as part of that bloodwork. In fact, astute readers may recall a rather extensive discussion here about the MTHFR gene based on that very testing. But I hadn't paid attention to the ApoE results previously.

Those tests showed that I am, ApoE-wise, a "2/3" for that gene. There are three types of ApoE alleles (2,3 and 4) and you get one from mom and one from dad. So that means one parent gave me a 2, and one gave me a 3, hence the 2/3 designation. It turns out that what the literature calls ApoE-2 (which include 2/2 and 2/3) are pretty rare -- only about 10% of the population. On the other hand, ApoE-3 folks (just the 3/3) are really common -- about 65% of the population. That leaves 25% as ApoE-4 (3/4 and 4/4).

Are you with me so far? It's not that hard. I sucked at genetics, and I understand it…. One from mom, one from dad. You can be an ApoE-2 (which includes 2/2 and 2/3), an ApoE-3 (3/3) or an ApoE-4 (3/4 or 4/4). (Yes, really smart people, you can also be a 2/4, but that is super-rare, so put a sock in it). I am an ApoE-2, the rarest of the three major designations.

2. THE IMPORTANT STUFF THAT FOLLOWS THE SCIENCE-Y PART

It appears that a rather significant, well-regarded study (the Framingham Offspring Study) found the following regarding ApoE:

--ApoE-2 folks (me!) (the 2/2 and 2/3) have significantly lower LDL cholesterol if we drink alcohol. Significantly! Lower! LDL!!!!!!!! From alcohol!!! (Mind blown).

--ApoE 3 people (3/3) see no positive or negative effects on LDL cholesterol from drinking or abstaining.

--ApoE 4 people (3/4 or 4/4) increase their LDL by drinking alcohol. They probably shouldn't drink.

(And you really smart folks have, again, figured out that I omitted discussion of one type of ApoE: a 2/4. The study didn't cover them. They are, again, super-rare. So, again, put a sock in it).

The bottom line? After clearing it with the paleo doc*****, I am, as a proud ten-percenter ApoE-2 person, conducting a one-variable science experiment from now through retesting in May: one alcoholic beverage a day (either five ounces of red wine or a shot of whisky or tequila). If the Framingham study is right, my LDL should plunge quite a bit.

3. THE OTHER IMPORTANT STUFF THAT FOLLOWS THE IMPORTANT STUFF THAT FOLLOWS THE SCIENCE-Y PART (AND YES, I TOLD YOU THERE WERE ONLY TWO PARTS. SORRY….)

This does not mean that alcohol is health food, even for ApoE-2 folks (me!). I have been back to the sauce -- mostly red wine******because I'm finding whisky on a daily basis really drags me down -- for a week now and my lifting/gym numbers already have taken a hit. If I were trying to do something earthshattering in the world of CrossFit competition, I would have to choose between abstaining from alcohol for the clear athletic-performance benefit or drinking it to lower my LDL cholesterol from its current mega-levels. But that is an easy choice for me. I am always more about health and longevity than I am about athletic awesomeness. I will opt for what I hope is still pretty decently strong at a few lifts, and heart-healthy. Remember, on this one I happen to have "won" the genetic lottery. I am part of a rare ten percent that appear to get a positive effect from alcohol on my blood lipids. And yet, I am going to have to be very careful about keeping to the one/day limit, or else risk all sorts of mood/sleep/etc. issues. I really wasn't kidding a few months back when I said I was digging the clean feeling of no alcohol. Now I have to see how it goes walking what is almost an an oddly tighter line.

Also, remember, if you are an ApoE-2, but you already know that you have addiction issues, I am not telling you to ditch the meetings and do a high-dive off the sobriety wagon. There are likely more important concerns to you than lipid levels in your bloodstream.

The real lesson here seems to be that this genetic-testing stuff is The Bomb. (People don't actually say that anymore, do they?) Imagine… you could go here or here and make an appointment with a paleo doc, and learn all sorts of predispositions that you may have to bad health*******, and, most importantly, learn dietary strategies for addressing those issues. If it sounds like I am telling you that you could personalize your food intake via genetic testing, yeah, that's exactly what I am telling you. I mean -- for the love of all that is good and right, man -- I took a big step and quit drinking six months ago because I thought it was a healthy thing to do, and now it seems that maybe it was a really awful idea. For me. Because… genetics.

You might want to learn about your own version of those genetics.

More on all this in May when the retesting happens.

Oh, ironic universe, you rarely cease to confuse and potentially amaze me….

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** Under no circumstances, should you think that I am actually drinking Jagermeister/RedBull bombs. As with the photo that begins this post, the Dr. Strangelove reference was simply too much to resist….

***Back in 2010 when I started paleo, the going recommendation regarding fish-oil supplementation from both Robb Wolf and Whole 9 was really high, and I followed it. Later (sometime in 2012) I ditched taking it entirely, and then last summer I began two pills per day, about six-eight pills fewer per day than I was taking in 2010.

****Two tiny exceptions: 4 ounces (yes, not much) of hard cider on my wedding anniversary in October, and, on Christmas night, one shot of Laphroaig 18 Scotch whisky that my father-in-law really wanted me to try. Otherwise? None.

*****By the way, I should note that my doc shared none of my feelings of doom and gloom about my LDL numbers. He would like to see them improve, and he is signed on to the drink-a-day plan because of the Framingham study and my ApoE-2 status, but he thought, as do I in my less-freaked-out moments, that the most important issue is inflammation, and I have none of any significance.

******The presence of the ale label in the photo that begins this post should not be seen as an endorsement for drinking beer. One word: gluten. Don't do that. Wine, cider, spirits? Yes. Beer (other than the rare gluten-free one)? I can't get onboard with that. Sorry.

*******Indeed, if you were to read this article, you would find out that ApoE affects a hell of a lot more than blood lipids. For instance, ApoE-2 people really have to watch their carb intake or they run the risk of high triglycerides and diabetes. I don't currently have those problems. Low-carb paleo saves my ass on that. ApoE-4 folks are at greater risk for Alzheimer's. Knowing your variation could give you all sorts of other information about your likelihood of Alzheimer's, diabetes and other diseases. Wouldn't you like to know that?