What about Bob?
For my debut competition, I selected the NAS Sanctioned Allegheny Valley’s Strongest Man. I began seriously training for this competition in March of 2008; in July, I won the Master’s Class.
I typically train by myself, in my own home gym. The garage is filled with weights and equipment; tires, kegs, Fingals Finger, Conan’s Wheel litter the driveway. I’m pretty content with the solo training thing; like anything, there’s pluses and minuses, but I think my success shows that you don’t need to train with a group.  That doesn’t mean solo training is for everybody; there’s definitely a group dynamic I miss.  If I was healthier, and able to train with more “intensity” on a regular basis, I think that being part of a crew would be a help.
Looking back
In a broader context: Â I’ve always found release and growth in lifting. Â I lifted as much as I could in high school, given that the school I attended had only a multi-station Universal machine. Â When I was threatened with being banned from the gym, because I steroids for sale was lifting during a girl’s basketball practice, I took matters into my own hands. Â There was a room off the main gym which was filled with basically junk; it was stuff that nobody had used in 5 years or more.
I cleared out that room, and took the Universal machine apart, carried it piece by piece into the small room, and re-assembled it. Â Then, I was able to lift without catching sight of a girl, and making the girls feel uncomfortable. Â Sure, that’s fair – but whatever. Â It’s the way the world works.
Suddenly, that little room became pretty popular. Â Since now the guys were able to lift all the time, there was an actual possibility of a strength program that would help team sports.
As time carried on, I trained as I could. Â In the late 80s and early 90s I trained hard and often, and in 1994 I put together my first home gym, because we lived in a rural area and finding a gym was hard. Â I actually like the gym scene quite a bit, and missed it: Â I had made many friends there, and enjoyed being in the company of other lifters.
As I devoted more time to career, I lifted less. Â Finally, by 2004, I was commuting via 737 on a weekly basis; a regular work week was 80 hours.
Overcoming
In fall 2005, I realized that I had to make some changes. My waist was 52-54″; I weighed in the 340lb range; it was becoming increasingly difficult to hike or to do virtually any physical activity. I began simply, eliminating the worst food from my diet, and made a commitment that I would start to lift weights and do some cardio again. So, in November 2005, I started.
In May of 2006, I was diagnosed with a spinal disease (DISH), as well as severely degenerated discs, and spinal and hip arthritis and arthrosis. After researching my disease and my options, I decided that the best strategy was to aggressively work on strengthening my back muscles, developing as much flexibility as possible, and losing bodyfat.
One thing became clear: Â nobody really knows much about this disease. Â Essentially, all my connective tissue is turning to bone. Â It can’t be stopped; it can’t be reversed. Â The most I can hope for is that some of the things I do will slow the progress of the disease.
But here’s the rub: Â the disease is primarily of the disease of the elderly, diagnosed what is tren
secondarily when other symptoms can’t be ignored. Â A typical scenario: Â suddenly, grandpa can’t swallow his food. Â A lot of tests are run, and finally x-rays are taken, and it’s discovered that DISH has created so much excess bone that it interferes with swallowing.
So nobody knows how fast the disease will progress. Â There are no markers. Â Everything is a guess.
As I write this, in 2014, all we can do is predict that within 7 years, those secondary symptoms will define my life.
The standard AMA course of treatment for the disease is to engage in minimal activity and to take anti-inflammatories. Â Which sort of makes sense if you’re talking about a 70 or 80 year old person.
But it doesn’t make as much sense for a 50 year old.
So, for better buy anavar online or worse, I took the approach of saying “Fuck it, I’m maxing out.” Â I want to enjoy my life while I can, not do nothing while waiting for the chance to do nothing.
Having this disease has shaped my training: Â it’s a constant struggle to understand what is changing in my body. Â I have no mobility in the thoracic region, because my spinal ligaments in the thoracic region are now bone. Â That has consequences in every motion: Â from simple walking to overhead pressing, my body moves differently, defying conventional wisdom.
This compensatory motion has consequences: Â as my lumbar region moves in order to compensate for a frozen thoracic region, nerves are impinged. Â As nerves are impinged, muscles in my lower body stop working.
As muscles stop working, other muscles take over, resulting in more compensatory motion. Â The cycle continues.
This has given me a unique perspective: Â since a large part of my training is focused on understanding how to train, it’s as though I am in perpetual rehab mode.
The result is that I’m getting a lot better at understanding what rehab mode is all about; how to best use it; how to structure rehab blocks for best results; and how to read body language and cues to determine what the body is actually doing – I never approach a body with a pre-conceived ideal kinematic model. Â This enables me to see an athlete’s movement patterns in a new light.
Find opportunity. Â Don’t acknowledge defeat. Â Keep pushing.
The Rehabilitation Process:
I know. Â That’s a controversial statement.
Let me begin in the trenches. Â A top-ranked USAPL/IPF heavyweight skyrockets to the top of the charts. Â He’s known for his deadlift. Â Suddenly, he stops setting those PRs. Â Without a doubt, he’s still one of the strongest men in powerlifting. Â But meet after meet, training cycle after training cycle, his deadlift is at best stalled. Â He has some minor tweaks.
He consults with me. Â I go over his training, and recommend that he take time off from lifting – that he needs to do a rehabilitation cycle. Â We talk it through, and he finally agrees. Â He hates its. Â He notes, repeatedly, in his training log, that he’s frustrated, that he wants to dianabol pills for sale lift heavy. Â To his credit, he sticks to the plan.
He comes back to full-bore training, and shatters personal records. Â He sets new world records.
A lifter who is a much sought after coach has a lifelong dream of getting stronger. Â Everytime he tries, although he has an excellent coach, he experiences an injury in his lower back. Â He works with his coach for months, and finally decides that he’s going to give up on his dream. Â He’s consulted with doctors, physical therapists, ART specialists – nobody has helped. Â His coach has him consult with me as a last resort.
I watch his deadlifting and squat videos – the good ones, the bad ones. Â I ask for more videos, from different angles. Â I think I see what the problem is. Â We talk on the phone. Â A pattern begins to emerge. Â I have him spend a couple weeks doing just a few exercises, very low key. Â More data is collected.
Finally, we start to form a picture of the issue, and talk it through. Â He goes to a physical therapist with my thoughts, and sure enough, deep in his upper back musculature, there is a large adhesion. Â This adhesion is causing him to have a limited range of motion; the limited ROM is causing too much stress to be placed on the low back.
The medical professionals start to work on the adhesion, and I prescribe a 6 week course of rehab exercises, working with his full time coach, to make sure that we’re on the same page and progressing to the athlete’s goal.
After 4 weeks, the athlete is able to start moving heavier weight, and feels like for the first time in years, he’s back on track.
This starts to hint at how I approach a problem:  first, we – the athlete, his coach, and myself – go through a data collection process.  I analyze how the athlete  is moving.  I identify weaknesses, limits, and start to appreciate the problem.  I encourage the athlete to get a medical diagnosis; I’m not a doctor, a PT, and what I do can’t be substituted for sound medical advice  This process can take a while, but it’s nothing compared to what the athlete will go through later.
I then put together an appropriate exercise program to help address these limitations. Â Again, this is discussed and integrated into the athlete’s current training and schedule. Â Unless there is a complete inability to train, I don’t want to completely disrupt progress.
The athlete has the hard part: Â (s)he has to work the plan, and report back.
Working the plan is no fun. Â It often means backing off the weight, so as to not aggravate the existing condition. Â I tell athletes – and I believe this – that this is the hardest thing they will ever have to do. Â It’s up to them – they can blow it off, half-ass it, and end up right back where they started, or worse.
It takes a certain kind of strength to accept this challenge, to see the opportunity for improvement, and to really apply yourself to getting fixed.
A beginning powerlifter suffers a spinal ligament injury – medically diagnosed. Â He’s having a great of trouble figuring out what to do, how to move forward. Â This is, after all, a potentially devastating injury. Â If that ligament doesn’t heal properly, recent research shows that he’ll be prone to arthritic conditions in the spine later in life. Â As the kids say “This shit is real.”
We review his form. Â I watch video after video. Â I identify several issues with his form. Â We work on correcting those issues. Â Curiously enough, a couple of the movements he thought were problematic actually look fine, and are fine. Â We talk through getting on, and sticking with, a program that emphasizes form and technique over weight. Â This fits in with his medical recommendations; everything we discuss is cleared through his PT and doc.
Most importantly: Â he has a process, and a way to measure progress. Â This is key.
As athletes, we’re all goal-driven. Â How many times do you think “If I’m not hitting my goals, I’m moving backwards”?
To tell a motivated athlete that they have to do rehab, and to not give them a process whereby they can set and achieve goals, is just committing that athlete to failure. Â The athlete will fail to comply. Â The injury will not properly heal. Â Suddenly, that one injury has turned into a string of injuries lasting a year or more – all because of compensatory movement patterns being setup and practiced.
Proper rehab is the single most challenging phase an athlete will have to go through. Â It’s also the single most important phase to get right, as doing otherwise destroys the athlete’s foundation, and sets them up for future failure.
One of the tools I employ through the rehab process testosterone for sale is autoregulation. Â Normally, as lifters, we think of autoregulation as being a way to manage intensity through the perceived difficulty of moving a given weight. Â We manage volume (stress) using autoregulation by tracking total fatigue.
However, we can also use autoregulation as a means to evaluate our pain, our technique, our form, or any number of other variables that we encounter in the training process. Â By employing autoregulation in a rehab setting, we make sure that the athlete stays within bounds for proper healing and recovery, but yet we have a measure that provides the athlete with a goal.
Having found a way to make the process goal oriented is a significant part of the battle. Â However, it’s key to recognize that this is a difficult time psychologically as well. Â I encourage the athletes with whom I work to view this period as an opportunity. Â How many times in their career will they presented with the opportunity to practice technique and form, and to learn more about their bodies? Â The lessons which can be learned during rehab are priceless. Â Learn them well, take them to heart, and you will make more progress as a lifter later in your career.
For more information on how I structure the rehab process, drop me an email, and request the “Oz presentation.”