Brave St. Sephiroth

My own information.

Max. Bench Press:   295 lbs.    12/17/10

Max. Deadlift:          405 lbs.    12/17/10

Max. Squat:              315 lbs.    12/17/10

Max. Military Press: 185 lbs.    12/17/10

Max. # Pullups:         23           12/10/10

Max. # Pushups:       120          12/31/10

Plank hold:               3m43s      12/31/10

Wall Squat:               5m10s      12/31/10

100m. dash               14.37           12/6/10

400m. dash                1:11:31       12/6/10    

5k run:                      25:27         6/24/10

10k run:                    51:21          5/16/09

In 200 words or less, what is your most impressive physical accomplishment?
Other than killing Optimus Prime, my greatest personal victory has been completing the Syracuse Half-Ironman. For the first time in my life, for the briefest of moments, I felt that my lifetime goal of completing the Ironman World Championships could be mine to achieve. Never before in my life have I emptied my tank so completely and gave it my all to finish that race. Because injuries limited my training, I could not train adequately for the race and had to race on heart and ambition alone. Finishing the race gave me the confidence that real dedication and application could bring me to my promised land.

What do you wish to gain from participating in this challenge?
Accountability and the fun that comes from competing amongst friends.

What do you hope to accomplish in terms of physical fitness in 2011?
1- Bring my weight below 195 lbs.
2- Run the NYC Marathon in under 4 hours.
3- Bring the bike and swim portions of my triathlon above the 65% mark for my age group.
4- Perform 50 consecutive chin-ups or pull-ups.

Why did you choose to be known as Brave St. Sephiroth? 
A gifted individual who rebels against the established order once he discovers his true origins. There's a lot that I empathize with in his backstory. In my vision he's the patron saint of the ambitious, a cat-eyed Prometheus stealing fire, a one-winged Icarus, a katana-wielding John Galt. I won't let the haters and nay-sayers rob me of my joy, my destiny.

Brick by brick

Over in my Purgatory I have a post that outlined my goals for the year. One major goal was to complete a half-Ironman. Another major goal was to slice my marathon time in half. I accomplished the first. A few weeks from the marathon, I came to the grim realization that accomplishing the second was nowhere within the realm of probability. Possible? Yes. In the furthest realms of theory and imagination, I could run the NYC marathon in under 4, but I had no legitimate reason to believe I would actually do so. At that point, I dropped the idea of a sub-4 marathon as anything but the realm of the supernatural and aimed at a sub-5 marathon. It injured my pride to do so but I thought that was more reasonable. The night before the marathon, I changed my expectations to "I just want to run the whole way this time.", an obvious thrust at the injured Aloha walk I did in Hawaii.

I made none of those goals.

But I took an enormous step forward and can't wait to get back to running. I don't feel the least bit of sadness for not making my goals for a few reasons. First, neither my ilio-tibial band nor my posterior tibialis barked at me the whole race. The calf, hamstring and groin on the other hand, firmly lodged their complaints. Cats and dogs. Big muscles are like dogs. They gripe and whine but if you master them, if you make the situation plain to them, "This is the task I have set for you. I will only expect more from here on out. I will care for you and feed you. Obey me." then they will comply and be your best friend. The tendons and ligaments on the other hand hiss at you and will simply have none of your bossy-ness. Tendons, catty to the extreme, must be coddled and coaxed, and even then, will only come along when the mood comes upon them.

They came along yesterday. And I felt as if they were on my side now. That's huge.

And I finally came to grips that I cannot run marathons much longer with a powerlifter's training regimen and physique. 220 lbs. is just too much to carry that distance. That weight about doubles most pro men. Doubles. I knew this of course, but I played chicken with the truth. I lost. I acknowledge my defeat. Next year, my goal is to drop 40 lbs. or to 5% bodyfat.  I'm going to respect running now. I love the activity too much not to.

And that's something else. The love. I'm a man high on love. With what? I can't quite articulate the affect at the moment. The euphoria swells and flows too strongly. I loved yesterday for sure. I remember running... no, flying, I can't recall the footfalls, the strides, I recall the surge of the crowd, the surge in my heart, the strength in my arms pumping powering me down 5th Avenue, I remember flying down the street thinking "I love this." I remember the muscles fibers fraying, tearing, shredding. I remember a cable, taut and angry, pull in my groin, I remember my mind's eye seeing myself collapse to the ground in an elephantine heap a thousand times and I remember a thousand times shouting back at myself "NEVER." I remember thinking that this is not the Half-Ironman. This is a marathon. This is New York City. Respect the moment for what that moment is. I am pushing myself to my very limits. Limit break.

I am in love with overcoming. I lifted my chin higher than I usually do after the race. I had every reason to do so. I conquered myself. And yet, vast tracts of myself remain unbowed to myself. They too will soon become vassal states. I unified spirit and body to a greater extent than I ever had before, yesterday. My ability to visualize and mentally prepare took a massive step forward. And most importantly, I came to a visceral understanding of a theological truth that gave me fits the past few years. God is most glorified when we are most joyous. And what was my run, my ecstasy, my euphoria, my agony and pain, my aufhebung and victory than worship?

I am in love with New York City. This city, this amazing city, this city I love and have always loved, will always love, came out to support me. I saw several signs that day "Hey, I don't know you but I'm so proud of you." "I am cheering for you even though I don't know you!" and many others of a similar type. Bay Ridge, Fort Greene, Park Slope, Williamsburg, God, I love Brooklyn, son or daughter, I want to name my first child Brooklyn, Queens, 1st Avenue, you were wonderful, I hope I made your day just as wonderful, Bronx, Harlem, Central Park, New York, I love you. Your spirit, your energy made this more than a personal benchmark. I brought my iPod, but I never used my earphones once the gun started. I wanted you, your energy, your passion to fill me completely. I sprinted to give out high-fives and receive pats on the head, shoulders, arms, back, and somewhat awkwardly the butt, way too often but I regret none of it. New York, I love you.

So tell me brethren, should I be disappointed that I fail to achieve some benchmark based on an arbitrary hour marking? I feel no disappointment, no regrets. Instead, I know what my final goal is: Ironman World Championships. Am I impossibly far at the moment such that my goal may as well be a dim star on the horizon? Yes. But at the same time, aren't marathons testaments to achievements that have to be earned by putting one foot in front of another? No. In fact, I think getting a sub-4 marathon time this year would be disappointing. I wouldn't deserve it. I haven't earned it. That might make me hate marathons. I'll get that time when I earn it. That's how it should be. I'll realize my dream when I've earned it. That's how that should be.

Now, back to building this dream brick by steady brick.

A Neglected Organ

It's obvious why most people should train their arms. Boxers need to punch, football players need to push and everyone needs to lift something at one point or another. However, runners don't need to train their arms so much. Is there a body part that everyone should train?

Yes.

The eyes. It doesn't matter if you're legally blind, have only one eye or compete in some sport yet unknown to me that requires you to compete in the dark or blind-folded because of course I mean "the eyes" abstractly.

Let me illustrate the point with a concrete example. Running never came easy for me. I started at over 300 lbs. as a walker. I was so embarrassed by the jiggling mountain of flesh rolling down the street that I didn't really run at first. I pretended I had somewhere to go so I just walked quickly and purposefully in jeans and shoes because the fear of appearing to try was still too prohibitive at that stage. Eventually I felt bored so I started to jog a little bit. A few seconds, a few minutes. What stopped me from jogging for extended periods wasn't the shame. I forfeited any dignity I might've preserved by donning sweatpants. I simply couldn't get over how far away my goals looked. I looked up at where I was going and the end didn't seem to get closer. So I got bored and I started looking to my left, to my right, at cars and women passing by me. And I got nowhere. And I got tired getting to nowhere.

But soon I stopped looking at the end point. 3 paces in front. Let's see how that works. I didn't adopt this technique because of any special philosophical bent. The route I ran went over some broken pavement and shattered glass. I usually walked that section. This time I decided to go over that section as fast as I could. I'd trip and shred my skin if I wasn't conscious so I looked down and charged hard. And before I knew it, I made my goal. And I wasn't any more out of breath than I usually felt.

I experienced a revolution in my running, Copernican in scale.

Look down. Keep your eyes on your immediate goal and soon enough you'll stomp over your reach goal.

I've been relearning this lesson in the past few weeks.

What are you look at when you train? Where is your attention? Where is your focus? Lots of studies are out telling you that high-reps are good or high-reps are bad or that ICT or HIIT is best for weight loss. Miasma and distraction. I want to see a study that shows the difference between focused and aware athletes vs. undisciplined, distracted weekend warriors who go to the gym and ogle the cardio bunnies reading their magazines. Forget talent, forget technique for one brief moment. They're important, critically so, but not as much as you. Whether you're training for an Ironman, mountain climbing, weight loss, muscle gain, martial arts or the military, you should be in training for your life. Your life should have passion, desire, direction. Do you bring your awareness to your goals, to your life or does it seem just too far away? Are you now distracted and looking here and there, eyes glassy, glazed?

Everyone needs to train their eyes. Unfortunately, I'm young and inexperienced so forgive me. The only training I know is by doing. Set goals. Adjust goals. Sometimes I set them too low. Earlier this year, I set out with the goal of writing 1,000 pages. I handled that task easily. I've been averaging up to 35 pages a week compared with the 20 I aimed for. Next year, I think I'll aim to write 2,000 pages. Sometimes I'm too ambitious. I also aimed to finish a Half-Ironman and halve my marathon time and get under the 4 hour mark. I feel confident in finishing under 5 but a 4 hour marathon seems impossibly far beyond my reach as I write a day and a quarter before the race. Actually, I don't even expect to beat my Oprah's time. Adjust and come at it again. Learn by doing.

And soon, before I know it, the far away goal that I've been aiming for will be long past.

Action

Grinders win, period. I don't care how perfect your program is, how ambitious your goals are, who your parents are, where you grew up, or any other reason why you feel you "deserve" to be successful — if you don't take action, you will not have the type of success you hope for. As a wise man once said, you can dream in one hand and shit in the other, but all you'll be left with is a handful of shit. 

excerpted from 7 NFL Training Principles on T-Nation

Growth

Let me talk about muscles for a moment. How do muscles grow? First, there's the pain. You run. Or push. Or pull. Or swim. Or anything. You tear your muscles. You wound them in a million ways. At this moment you are weak. Run 15 miles. Legs shake, vision blurs, chest heaves. You are weak. You are not strong. Growth requires you to be weak. Growth requires you to hurt.

But then you give your body what your body needs. 

Food. Proteins. From many sources. 

Fats. Good ones. Clean ones.

Rest. Much of it. In many ways.

Then what happens? A soma-spiritual, psycho-biological miracle.

Your muscles adapt.

Change.

Strength. 

Growth.

You have more strength, more capacity. You do what you previously considered impossible. You withstand what formerly brought you to your knees. And soon, you do this easily.

My legs don't wake up until I've run about 5 or 6 miles. There was a time I could not run 3 miles. Running 3 miles used to make me ache and moan for a day or so. Running 3 miles at my absolute hardest now leaves me out of breath for no more than 10 minutes. I won't be satisfied with my day unless I fit in another workout that evening. My work capacity increases. No isolated phenomenon -- it's been repeated trillions times. You can do this yourself. Destroy a part of yourself. Provide yourself with nurture and rest. Watch as you grow and become stronger. Watch as you change.

Is your spirit so different?

You've been hurt. Heartbreak. I have a friend who supports his family. 6 people living on 2 incomes. The other income is a parent who makes less than half his paycheck. He's 2 years into a 30-year mortgage. It's not his home. He's his family's bailout package. He lost his job. You've been hurt. The crutch you've leaned on to find yourself snapped. And of course it snapped. You're a 320 lb. soul leaning on a costume cane.  Expecting that support to last would be to indulge yourself in a stupendous delusion. You've fallen. But you can get up. That's up to you.

You've experienced the pain. Will you give yourself the nutrition and nurture you need to grow, to change? Or will you wallow in your spiritual wrack longer?

Run. Run because it hurts. When my heart last broke, I thanked God for the hill behind my house. 3 blocks long and steep. I ran sprints up and down that hill until I fell to my knees and puked. I ran sprints until my body hurt more than my soul. And then I drank my protein. I slept off the aches. And my body grew strong. I realized that my body was getting stronger and my soul must pull its own weight in return. So I sought discipline, dispassionate intelligence and openness of heart, innocence in my optimism and wisdom in my judgment. I grew. I changed.

I can still grow. I can still change. 

I will always have room to grow. I will always have room to change.

So yeah. I'm talking about muscles. And a little more.

Mental Training

My legs shook. I dropped down onto the cold concrete steps, my labored breathing painful.

"Mind, you've been the one holding me back all this time."

1 hour 15 minutes. That was my best time on this particular run by nearly 20 minutes. I still had much, much more left in the tank.

I said, in sum and substance, the same thing to a new friend I made during the 5k this past Saturday. I explained my rationale to her this way:

"The body is capable of so much more than a normal person's mind is willing to give it credit for. When you're tired, it's not your body that's weak. It's your mind. What word do we use for people with weak minds? Feeble-minded. That completely changes the conversation. People laugh it off and are OK with being called pudgy or lazy or tired. I don't know anyone who's OK with being called feeble-minded."

Feeble-minded.

What other term should we use for the undisciplined, for comfort addiction, for effort-aversion?

Feeble-minded.

It's what I see staring back at me when I read down my training log. What I've done this year does not reflect the passion, the heart and courage that I aim to have. So what do I do? I just get stronger. If weakness is the problem then strength must be the solution. Physical strength, when I'm lacking. Mental strength, when I'm lacking.

I wrote about this several times (to my memory) in Purgatory but this passage bears repeating. Mark Twight wrote it on the Gym Jones website and his words have not only spurred me on in my pursuit of greater physical achievements but also in the nature of what I'm achieving. What was I really after in my training? I had a body that was visually satisfying to me, maybe 85% of the time. Did the other 15% of the time merit so much effort? No. What I really wanted was to change. I was satisfied with my body but I had not yet become satisfied with my soul. Nor do I believe, should I ever. Will I ever lack for a deeper depth to plunge or a greater height to ascend? I hope not. Will I ever have enough courage, imagination, creativity, willpower, determination or resourcefulness? I don't think so.

...without predators or self-imposed challenges of similar magnitude it is easy to become soft, to regard health and fitness as unnecessary anachronisms. The modern world values intellectual horsepower and the "spirit" in complete disassociation from the physical body. Athletes are "entertainers" rather than examples of mankind's potential...

...Mishima believed in the correspondence between the flesh and spirit, "... feeble emotions, it seemed to me, corresponded to flaccid muscles, sentimentality to a sagging stomach, and over-impressionability to an oversensitive, white skin. Bulging muscles, a taut stomach, and a tough skin, I reasoned, would correspond respectively to an intrepid fighting spirit, the power of dispassionate intellectual judgment, and a robust disposition." ...

What I want is my own transformation. Our bodies follow our souls. This is what I call "soul-lag." Think of the obese, unathletic victim of the modern world for a moment. His sagging flesh, his decrepit body simply followed where the mind led. "It's too hard to get out of bed to run in the morning." "I've had a hard day. I'm going to eat cheesecake for dinner." "I deserve to watch T.V. because I'm tired and exercise is hard." What word did we previously use for mental impotence again?

Your body follows your mind. Change your mind and your body will follow. I'll finish by pasting this e-mail that I received in one of the newsletters I read. It expresses what I want to say very well.

I saw a movie on Showtime a few months ago called "Reversal of Fortune".
The documentary film makers followed a homeless man around for a week or so. At the end of the week - they gave him $100,000.
For a homeless man - living under a bridge - this is clearly a life changing sum. They even paid for a financial counselor.
Within six months he had less than $5000 left. Within nine months he was back on the streets - homeless.
Owing more money than before.
The morale of the story I suppose is that the homeless man's attitude to money didn't change. You need to invest that money - or at least continue to make money - or look to budget.
The difference between this man living on the streets and not living on the streets was his attitude, choices and behaviors - not just the $100K.
Fitness and your health can be a lot like this also.
Imagine if you woke up tomorrow - with your ideal body... looking and feeling exactly how you want...
What would you do differently to maintain it?
Maybe what you would do differently might involve changing your exercise habits, or your eating habits.
Then why not start doing that now? Make the changes in behavior first...

Laurels

I just realized that I am among the 1% most fit persons on Earth. Surprised? So was I. So am I.

Given my combination of physical abilities, the current status of my energy systems (the level of both the anaerobic and aerobic systems) as well as my ability to produce force and the period of time for which I can sustain that production is in nothing short of rare in the human population.

Let me put this in context. I've currently maxed out at 25 pullups, a deadlift over 400 lbs., a squat over 350, and a bench press over 300. This is middle-of-the-road average for a lot of powerlifting forums I've frequented. I'm still getting stronger as we speak. For America, the average is 0 pullups, what's a deadlift?, I can't squat to depth., and a bench press of around 100 lbs. if I'm feeling generous.

I've done a half-Ironman and placed in the 47th percentile for my age group -- below, but nearly average. By all means unremarkable. 47%? I believe I still have tremendous room for growth. I will grow. I will get much better. But the fact remains, I've done it.

To say that I am below the top 1% of all humans currently alive is the same as saying there are 68 million people who have simultaneously more strength and stamina than myself. A country of 68 million persons, would be the 19th most populous country in the world ranking ahead of the U.K., France, Thailand, South Korea, South Africa, Italy and 200 others. 68 million is roughly twice the population of Canada.

I do not believe there are 68 million human beings alive who are at the same time stronger and more resilient than myself.

By my definition of fitness, a measurement of physical capacity that tests both strength and ability to maintain strength over time, I am in the top 1%. Actually, I am probably in the top 0.1%. I think there might possibly be 6.8 million more human beings who are more fit than myself.

Why am I saying these things?

I'm saying them because I have heroes, or perhaps role models might be a more appropriate term and my accomplishments would be as remarkable as an insect's before their own. I want to know what it would take to get where they are because I want to go there.

I'm still not satisfied. There's a dizzying height above me.

Remember, I'm only 47% for my age group in long-course triathlons. What does it feel like to be 50, 60, 70 or 99% I can do 25 pull-ups. What kind of strength lies in the body of those who can do 60?

The great fall because of complacency.

The Soulforge

I've been drawn to fitness for a number of reasons over the years. There was a time I just didn't want to be 320 lbs. and pre-diabetic. Then when I achieved that goal, I wanted to look really good. These days what really drives my training and fitness is the desire to know and create myself.

"We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit."

Credit often goes to Aristotle for that quote. I read somewhere that attribution lacks accuracy. I don't care. I believe in its verity. If a person accustoms themself to sitting at a desk, eating cheetos and playing video games because leveling up in a fantasy world is easier than caring about their life, then they will reap what they sow. That's my own testimony and life story. Some of you knew me back in high school and college. You remember the fat slob. You know that I speak from experience.

You would also know that my life today doesn't reflect those habits. But I'm not where I want to be either. I want to experience real dedication and commitment. I want to create a courageous, daring soul that dives fearlessly into risks and continuously challenges himself to rise above adversity. By no means do I believe I have achieved anything more than the tithe of that glorious goal. I pursue fitness because I want to summon forth all that is heroic.

No doubt, I am influenced by Mark Twight's writing here. For years, the words "intrepid fighting spirit, the power of dispassionate intellectual judgment, and a robust disposition" have haunted me. I know myself better than any human alive. I know what I lack. And I know what I need. I've seen people quit and peace out when the going gets tough. I've seen fathers bail out, mothers turn to the bottle, older brothers and sisters turning their backs and migrating to greener pastures, teachers who didn't give a damn and bosses who are just whittling time. In my own personal value system, few actions disgust me more than surrender to difficulty, and I know how often I've given in to challenges.

But not only do I know my shortcomings, I also know the way out. The only way out is through. If I want a soul that doesn't back down from challenges, I must keep pressing through these challenges. And where do these challenges come from? I must create them. I can go to the gym and do 3 sets of 12 reps of bench press like the other normal people, talk about sports and women in the locker room and then coast through life on my better than average physique, smug and content like a normal person. I could do that, but I have no intention of rotting in the cage of a normal existence.

I want the best that this world has to offer. I want to have an amazing soul that pushes the limits of what a human can feel. I want to meet an amazing woman with a similarly resplendent soul whose character and brilliance shines from afar. I want to meet other like-minded souls and together light the path out of Mediocrity's cave. Are you happy with just what you have right now? Or does your soul hunger over my words? Do your eyes glow with ambition as you read?

That's the hard and ugly of the Soulforge.

There's also terrific beauty and grace.

"It would have to be beautiful and hard as steel, and make people ashamed of their existence."

Roquentin's thoughts about the novel that he seeks to write also apply to the soul that I wish to forge. Seeing the physical beauty doesn't take a genius. The men and women in this video have what I would say are some of the most superb physiques I've seen in a long time. Perfect body composition. Lean. Strong. Enduring. But what does a beautiful, a graceful soul look like? I believe beauty and grace refers to the rare and uncommon. Look around you. In the cubicle next to yours. In the other cars as you pass them on the highway. Down the aisles of your supermarkets. Look at the beleagured masses compromising with their lives.

A beautiful soul, a graceful spirit is above compromise. When you tell people about your workouts, some people will blink, laugh, and say "Oh, I'm so proud of you. I could never do that. That's just too difficult for me." That's right. What's difficult for them is ordinary for you. You've risen to the challenges you've set for yourself time and time again. Your eyes are always looking up at the next foothold, the next hand hold that you'll use to climb higher. Their eyes are always looking up at how high the walls that ring in their lives loom. In fact, you both gaze at the same sheer cliffs. It's the perception that's changed. I've lost the metaphor, but I hope you haven't lost my message.

This is the Soulforge. This is what I want to create.