Every Time I Train

Every time I train, the voice that tells me that I can’t gets weaker.

 

First sub-six minute mile in months today, achieved while my fellow students were eating lunch. 5:39, prepare to be wrecked.

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Chinese Economy Project and The Mile I Will Beat

Right now I’m in that awkward limbo of waiting until dinner is done so I can start on my homework again… I’m so unproductive when I’m hungry. I’m gonna be so boned if we ever go into a famine. 

Lately I’ve been reading about China’s economy and the issues it faces for an economics project. One of the problems is that the population is going to be old as butt in the middle of this century, which is a problem because it means that younger workers have to start carrying the elderly’s weight within the economical system. It’s funny, the kind of dilemma this presents: if we have less children, we help out in keeping the population stable but risk the population’s transformation into an older demographic, but if we have a lot more children to counterbalance this, then we have the problem of providing for more people on this planet. So somehow, China has to provide a way for keeping older people in the work force, according to my research. 

Well, good luck with that China. I have no idea how you’re going to do that. I believe though.

In other news, I have decided that I will beat my 8th grade mile PR before I graduate this year. It is a worthy goal… it’s been a while since I’ve consistently ran 5:40 miles. But 5:39, that’s the number to beat. 5:30 is a nice round number to aim for. I’ll have to get pretty conditioned for it. I plan on strengthening my legs with lifting weights and uphill running. Leg strength I’ve noticed, is really important, particularly in the last leg of a race. It’s crazy. I’ll also have to practice running strategy as well. Currently I’ve been working out during lunch, with a warm-up mile and then a workout mile. I just added another lap to the main workout meal today… so after another week I’ll probably throw in another lap. I’m also going to mix it up with some sprints. 

This is going to be fun. 🙂

A Little More Praise For My Keyboard And Whether Or Not I’m Still An Athlete

This thing is called a “gaming keyboard,” and it really does feel good while gaming, but honestly, all keyboards were meant to be typed on. And typing on the K70 is probably the nicest experience I’ve had with a computer. Feels more intimate for some reason. Probably because I get so much tactile feedback in return. Oh yes, did I mention the clacking? Hehe.

So yes, blogging, let’s do this. By the way if you blog on the daily, look into getting a mechanical keyboard and look into the different types of switches (Lifehacker has a nice article, I recommend starting there).

Anyway, so I guess I’ll talk about my life.

I’ve started working out again. I’ve just been doing some running around school and lifting weights for leg strength. I got frustrated this Thursday though because I found out that I couldn’t use the squat bar with my messed up ulnar collateral ligament. I was so sad. I was waiting for a while to be able to use the squat rack but they were taken the last few days before. I got all pumped up to use it that time, and my elbow says, “lol nope get outta here bro,” so I had to do squats while holding dumbbells instead. Those aren’t the same though. However, I got a nice suggestion to try front squats to circumvent this problem. Not sure when and how I’m going to learn how to front squat though… and that lift looks like it needs serious flexibility, so the learning curve might be a little ridonk, I’m not sure.

But there you are, the frustrations of an athlete.

Am I even an athlete anymore? Hehe, I’m not even doing a sport right now. I guess if I work out enough I’ll be considered “athletic,” at the very least. But being an athlete is so much more than that. Being an athlete’s not just about working out, it’s about competing too. My main competition is myself right now… I suppose I am still an athlete after all.

What do you think? What defines an athlete for you?

Combat Lust and Angst

Today we had our final league meet. We lost, but the team made a statement. It just came down to the other team having more guys than we did, so they filled in more weight classes to collect the forfeit points. Oh well. We definitely handed it to them though when we did have matches against the other team. It was awesome. The team has such young talent… they will all grow to insane heights, I’m excited for them, truly.

I can not dwell on their possibilities though.

My own possibilities are my priority.

Sitting on the side watching the team wrestle like that… it was so thrilling. But having to sit there stirred up some of my bloodthirst as well. My combat lust has shot through the roof. I give my elbow dirty looks now and then. It’s not to blame… I still can’t believe that I invested a ligament into a guy who ended up quitting on the team when three weeks were left in the season. That ass, he said that he wanted to focus on baseball. Screw you dude, I invested an elbow ligament into improving you as a wrestler, and this is how you repay me? Good job for focusing on proving yourself to be a dumbass. It’s not like you didn’t know what you were signing up for.

Anyway, I’ll keep this post brief, for I don’t want to pound on my elbow too much… it’s crazy how we use it for EVERYTHING we do. I needed to blow some steam off though. I tend to get heated the most just before bed because that’s when I lay down and it’s all quiet and my mind can carry me away to things that piss me off.

Now… I will dream of the day when I can find absolution through my art. I dream of the day when I can prowl the resilite again.

Dem Frustrations and Other Things

Elbow injuries blow. You use your arms for so much stuff, even for leg exercises. I was just on the elliptical yesterday and my right elbow hurt from the bouncing, even though I didn’t use the arm… pumping things… I don’t know what the arm components of an elliptical are called, don’t judge. Even though I work out a ton, I don’t really know all of the engineering behind the machines I work out on. Should I? I kinda feel guilty about it right now… but not guilty enough to start Googling about it.

Nay, instead, I am here to fulfill my obligation of a weekly post. Besides… I want to be a writer someday, I think it would be awesome. Perfect for my introverted self. Introversion might be considered a curse by others, but it’s truly not. Introversion means that you’re more likely to know yourself compared to the other people who roam about constantly getting into each others’ business. Though I’m not all vain about that advantage either, as my social skills are pretty lacking sometimes. I still say the wrong things during normal every day talk. Example:

Other person: “Hey, it’s nice to see you!”

Me: “Yeah.”

And then I move on. But I don’t reciprocate it properly. It’s so frustrating because every time I realize I’ve done this, the other person’s gone and it’s too late to remedy my mistake. Fffffuuuu-

Back to my bitch-ass elbow. I can’t believe I injured it doing a move during wrestling practice that I’ve done for the majority of my career. Like, lolwut, I hyperextended it in an awkward direction? I didn’t even know that risk was there, I’ve done the ankle pick so many times, how could I have even thought about it? Only the biggest dumbass of the kinesthetic sense could have done it, yet, here I am. Oh man. I go crazy when I have to go on the elliptical for so long. I break several times during the two hours that I have to be on it to come back to the wrestling room, to feel the resilite at my fingertips once more. And to make sure that my back’s doing okay.

Goddamn, the back. It only does everything. Screw that up and you’re screwed until your back decides to get better again. My back gave out about a month or month and a half ago. Nothing specific was being done, it just decided to spasm one day. Luckily I got a VERY cool chiropractor who helped me get back into the action. In retrospect, after going through that back episode, I realized how overrated core training is for back health. Yes, the stomach is very important for the back, but the back needs to be trained too.

In fact, the back rehab exercises I had to do made me into a better athlete. They worked my hamstrings and glutes, making my legs stronger, giving my body that much more support. It was awesome how quickly my booty evolved to become more amazing. Chicks, if you’re reading this and want to shape your butt… pelvic tilts and Supermans. That is all. You’ll have an even better butt than before.

And I say “even better butt” because it’s really hard to have a butt that doesn’t appeal to me. I have weird tastes. I think it’s a guy thing. Because honestly, it’s like, I recognize the butt as a chick’s butt so I’m like, “Hoohoo.” But if the butt is like, especially good, then I’m like, “HooHOOHOO.” Know what I’m saying? Probably not.

Anyway… there’s some guy on the wrestling team who thinks I use my injuries to get away from practice. It’s so annoying. I yelled at him after I couldn’t take it anymore and he hasn’t really given me a lot of direct crap about it, but today he was implying the same BS again. We were doing sprints though, so I couldn’t explain. Doesn’t really matter much now though. If I wanted to get out of wrestling, I’d be out already. Nothing rubs me the wrong way like being accused of skipping out on one of the things I love most. There’s a magic to the sport that outsiders don’t see. 

Most people think wrestling is gay because of the singlets, or because it’s two guys sweating on a mat together, or whatever. You could probably find something “gay” about other sports, to be honest. I still remember this one basketball drill I saw one day because I was waiting for wrestling practice to start… oh my. And football is arguably “gay” because, well, you’re dog-piling over a ball. Before you get all offended, I’m not saying that I actually believe in any of those thoughts. I’m just saying if you used the same logic as the same person who thinks of wrestling as “gay,” then you’d have to say that every other sport is “gay” to some extent.

There is a special magic to one-on-one combat with another person. It’s even more thrilling when you practice with the same person who can challenge you to try and take your varsity spot one day. It’s personal. It’s an intimacy you experience with no other kind of person. And for me… well, it’s the thrill of the hunt. After my first year of wrestling, I realized subconsciously that a “victory” wasn’t defined by the points on the scoreboard or by the referee who slaps his hand on the mat to call the pin. I “won” matches but could still have an empty feeling afterwards, no sense of accomplishment. It all depended upon the hunt: did I have to scramble furiously to get every point, were my techniques crisp and aesthetically pleasing to watch (when you execute a move so well, you just KNOW that it had to be the sexiest thing that a spectator could possibly have seen from the stiff-butt-inducing bleachers), did I feel amazing after the match? Or, in a nutshell: was it my best?

It became about the hunt and that’s what continues to be the case today. It’s the thrill of the chase for me. I did swimming last year and I loved it, it’s just about as hard as wrestling (if not a little harder because you’re in the water and if you’re tired you can get psychologically messed with because people aren’t supposed to be breathing water) and there was a stronger sense of a team element in it (the team element I’ll discuss in another post)… but it wasn’t the same. You can’t kick the water’s ass, you can’t shape its life, the stakes don’t quite feel as high. Swimming is more of a zen-mode sport. Wrestling’s a rage-mode sport, at least for me. I get to go a little crazy during wrestling, maybe even borderline psychotic as I pump myself up to get bloodthirsty, to get ready to wreck some kid who steps in the ring with me. And if he beats me by points, then I’ll have beaten him mentally in some way by making him so gassed out in the end. As for swimming… well, good luck swimming the shit out of that water, which really couldn’t be bothered by you at all. It would probably drown your annoying, sorry ass.