“If you hold a cat by the tail, you learn things you cannot learn any other way.”

-Mark Twain

I’ve got this little scar, arching front to back over the tip of my right finger. I can never really forget about it - every single touch is a cue. It’s been healed for years, but all those tiny little nerves were smashed to pieces.  Forever numb. When I look closely, I can still see the full extent of the original damage. Like a gnarled, dried-out river bed full of evidence of extinct rapids.

As with all scars, there’s a story.

In the fall of 2002, I was a junior in college. Like most of my peers, I thought I had it all figured out. I finally knew what my major was going to be. All classes were accounted for. My internship was lined up. There was nothing to stop me from coasting on to graduation, then on to a well paying job doing…well…who knows what. The “what” was just a trifling little detail.  After all, I was going to have a college degree, and that’s what you needed to get those type jobs, right? The truth is that the only thing I had figured out at this point in my life was how to survive solely on a diet of peanut butter protein bars and Tab soda. 

Workout recovery drink of the year, 2002. 

I spent my internship hours working in the University’s Human Performance Lab. I was studying Health and Sports Science, loved research, and wanted to learn as much as possible. This was the perfect place for me at the time. But make no mistake, this was a shit-eating job - as are all jobs which include know-it-all undergraduates. My duties were pretty simple. Show up every day on time. Take care of all the menial research duties, like weighing subjects or getting the place set up. Don’t break shit. And try, if you can, not to be stupid.

The professors were not around much for the day to day operations, so most of the time I worked with the lab’s two graduate students. Let’s call them Bruce and Po. Bruce was working on his doctorate at the time, and just happened to be a huge Bruce Springsteen fan. Po, who was completing his Masters, was a big Asian guy with a striking resemblance to Kung-Fu Panda (I call him a panda now, I called him one then. No hard feelings). Both were accomplished Olympic weightlifters, and brilliant researchers. I could not have asked for better mentors.

At the time, our lab served two purposes. By day, it was used for science. By night, it was our training hall. We had all the equipment you could ask for. There were power racks, platforms, benches…Plenty of weights. One late afternoon, Bruce and Po were just finishing up a long training session, after an even longer day of work. I was still attending to my menial duties.

“Hey. We’re out of here.” Bruce said, walking out the door.

“OK. I’ll see you guys tomorrow. I still have some things to take care of.”

Curious, Po turned around. “Are you training tonight?”

“Yeah, but nothing too heavy...”

“Well, just do me a favor…try not to kill yourself,” he said leaving. “Oh, and make sure to lock up when you’re done!”

I decided to do some Good Morning Squats. I’m not sure why. I had never tried these before, and for a damn good reason. Well, how should I put this? When you put a barbell across your back, bend all the way over, then squat all the way down to the ground – effectively turning your body into a little ball – the risk of a scatological accident is quite high (ie, you are just about guaranteed to shit yourself!).

I worked up to around 500 pounds, which wasn’t that hard, but it did leave me a bit light headed. Dazed, I rushed the barbell back in to the rack, dropping it down into the abrasive safety hooks. The immediate relief was followed by a distinct thought of, “Oh, shit!” This was the same feeling that comes immediately after a car wreck. In an instant your brain recognizes what has happened, goes off and does the math, then comes back with the realization that you are, indeed, completely fucked. The slowly building crescendo of pain directed my attention down to my right finger, now pinned under the barbell. With a quick heave, I lifted the barbell just enough to pull the digit out. How surreal…It looked just like an exploded hotdog…microwaved on high for one minute too long.

I staggered around the lab, aimlessly looking for my car keys. I had to get to the emergency room as soon as possible. This was no time for cleaning, that much was certain. I also knew where I had go to. You see, I was actually already supposed to be at the hospital. Unfortunately, my mother had undergone emergency open heart surgery just days before. I had been over to see her every evening at the same time, so she was expecting me. I called her room an hour or so later, while I was getting my finger sewed back together. “Hi, Mom….Yeah, I know I’m late. I’m sorry, I…..What? Where am I? Oh...you know, just hanging out downstairs.”

The next morning, I walked into a complete shit storm. All the professors, the graduate assistants…everyone…was gathered around a conference table waiting on me. Apparently Bruce and Po came to work, as they did every morning, expecting to go about the day’s business. Only today, they stumbled upon an apparent crime scene. There was blood splatter on the wall…Crisscrossing trails of blood leading to larger collecting pools.  It must of looked like a bloody game of Candy Land meets a Jackson Pollock painting. Can you imagine?

Dramatic recreation of the crime scene.

They could have – should have – thrown my ass out of that lab for good. But they didn’t. I was allowed to learn from this crazy ass misadventure. I went on to spend 4 years working in that laboratory; some of the best years of my life. Slowly, I grew from whatever I was in the beginning, into a promising young researcher. That was a great lesson.

If Socrates said, “I know that I am intelligent, because I know that I know nothing,” then maybe I can offer my own version. “I understand how you feel, because I know my own incredible capacity for screwing up.”

There are no mistakes…Only opportunities to learn.

“Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans.” - John Lennon

I was in the middle of my flight, somewhere over the middle of America. Between where I was and where I was trying to go. 

After all this time, It’s not any easier. This is no place for a large man - hopelessly wedged in between fuselage and humanity. My feet were sore. I was sweaty from the pre-flight hustle common to every airport. My right shoulder throbbing with tendonitis - evidence that I pushed recent workouts a little too far.

This is no place for your kind, dear Sir.

The truth is that nothing can make this situation any more tolerable. That, of course, doesn’t stop the stewardess from trying. “Sir, may I offer you a tiny packet containing exactly 5 peanuts?” She asks. “Perhaps a tiny stale cookie the size of an iPod Shuffle?” I wanted to rise up and tell her just where she could stuff those damn peanuts. But then I realized that, yes, I do in fact want them.

“Sure…And can I offer you a beverage?” With my head hung in submissive position, I respond the only way I can. “Yes ma’am. I’ll have a Diet Coke.” “Certainly…here you are. Now, don’t go drinking that too fast. Those 2 ounces of fluid are all you’re going to get on this 5 hour transcontinental flight. You could ask for more, but I don’t think you want to deal with my inexplicable attitude problem. Yes, I hate my job and should just quit, but you and I both know you would be better off just sitting there with your fucking mouth shut. Okay? Have a nice flight, Sir.”

Before getting on that plane, I had everything planned out perfectly. I made sure that my complete itinerary for flight, hotel…everything, was printed out ahead of time. My bags were packed efficiently to minimalist perfection. I got to the airport with nearly two hours to spare - plenty of time to get my mandatory large Americano with cream and an extra espresso shot. I felt like one of those elite class travel all-stars.

Being prepared is common sense, right? Well, I guess that’s something I lacked for a long time. Years ago as a student, I remember flying to Washington D.C. to give a presentation at a conference. It probably had something to do with training or nutrition. Who the hell knows or cares? Prior to that trip, I made sure to pack all of the essentials.

Poorly fitting suit…check.

Some flip flops…check.

Workout apparel. About 45 protein bars. Some book that I have no intention of actually reading, I just want all the other passengers to know how smart I think I am…check.

Etc.

Stepping off the plane I was cool and collected, until I got to the shuttle station. It soon became painfully obvious what I forgot – the name of the damn conference hotel! How did I manage to get on a flight not knowing where the hell I was even going! Ah, the ignorance of youth.

Traveling is just like anything else. You need a plan. And when you plan, everything is supposed to work out. That is, unless it doesn’t. This time around, the self check-in machine still managed to botch my reservation. When the damn thing finally spit out my boarding passes, it graciously informed me that there was a slight change to my schedule. Turns out, my first flight was landing only 16 minutes prior to the departure of my connecting flight!

The effeminate clerk behind the Delta counter recommended I just give up. “I don’t think you’re going to make it.” He says. “You’re probably going to have to catch a flight out the next day.” “Well, are the gates close? Maybe there’s a chance I can make it!” I reply. “How would I know?” he says. “I’ve never been to Salt Lake.”

You can imagine the scene I made a few hours later. Nothing gets attention like a heavily tattooed, panting, three-hundred pound bald guy sprinting full speed down a crowded airport terminal.

...But I made that flight. Eat shit Delta clown!        

I think everyone can relate in some way. We all recognize the value of a plan, sooner or later.  We want to be prepared…To be successful. But a plan alone is not enough. A well written resume will not always get you the job. Your training program and diet may be perfect on paper, but the real world is not. The happiness you moved to that new town to find? It may not be there waiting for you. Things sometimes just don’t go as planned.

OK, so maybe his plans worked out perfectly...

Our response? We are quick to anger. We feel as though the world is against us. That we should get what we want, if we did what was necessary. This is the easy way to feel. The truth is that these are lessons. Moments where life is actually trying teach us something, if we would just shut the hell up and listen for once.

As I write this, I’m preparing for my next trip. This time I’m going to the beach for vacation. I have luring visions of palm trees and ice-cold Tacate with lime dancing in my head.

You know the cool thing about palm trees? While they are not nearly strong or stiff as other trees, they are incredibly flexible. When the strong winds come, and the other stiffer trees snap, palms just sort of roll with the punches. Yet, they remain firmly anchored. Maybe that’s the key. To anchor yourself with preparation, but also remain flexible for when the winds come…And they will.

I guess I have finally learned my lesson. If the plan fails and I can’t make it to the beach, guess what? I can still go get drunk in the pool. 

Disclaimer: This post has little or nothing to do with exercise, or being paleo, or crossfit, or powerlifting, or any of that really. Haven’t you read enough of that shit anyhow? 

“Pleasure is Nature's test, her sign of approval. When man is happy, he is in harmony with himself and his environment.” - Oscar Wilde

You know the difference between me and you? I watched the season finale of Grey’s Anatomy and I’m not afraid to admit it.

Let me explain. With the exception of No Reservations (I want to be Bourdain), I do not watch much TV.  Sitting around watching sitcoms, series, and sports is of little interest to me. There are so many other ways to waste time.

The Grey’s thing is mostly to keep a happy home. While I usually watch it to spend time with my girl, this episode was different. Instead of doctors just having random sex with each other, there was actual suspense. I bit my nails. Had the nervous pee's even.

Apparently, some guy was pissed because the chief of medicine pulled the plug on his brain dead wife – enter crazy man with a gun and pretty decent acting and Mandy Moore with a colostomy bag and unexpectedly crazy violence for a primetime TV series…bingo. I could get used to this.

A main story arc proceeds thusly. One of the male surgeons, Dr. McSteamy Bulge something or other, gets shot right through the side. This guy crawls all over the floor trying to get help, dispatching wide swaths of blood resembling an over the top avant-garde art project. Another surgeon - you know, the handsome one - finds him and throws him up on a conference table for emergency treatment.

With his life slipping away, Dr. Bulge slips into deep contemplation…like total existential stuff, man (that dialogue is the source of this articles title). Eat what you want. Partake in pleasure. Life is short, after all - and in the event that a bat-shit crazy gunman enters your hyper-sexual pseudo-realistic hospital, it can be even shorter.

This show set me to thinking. What do we need more of? How do we extract the optimal amount of pleasure and satisfaction from this life? I submit to you my short list. 

Eat Real Food

Shit food is a saboteur. It can derail your health and fitness goals. Cause disease. Enslave you to the will of pharmaceutical company shareholders. The first step in feeling great and being well is to eat great food. But what is great?

For me, that definition is the absence of excess sugar – the prime suspect in many contemporary disease trends. For all you Paleo folk out there, you understand the argument. Excessive sugar intake can cause insulin resistance, impair immune function, increase inflammation, increase triglyceride levels in the blood, etc. According to a recent study¹, it may also be a leading cause of elevated blood pressure. Yes, it may be ok to throw that crappy salt substitute away and sprinkle a little of the real thing on your food for once.

We are first and foremost human, bred to seek out fatty, protein rich foods. Our culture was founded around a campfire. Food is so incredibly important; we cannot be whole without a satisfying meal. So, eat the real thing. Grill a big fatty steak. Eat bacon and eggs for breakfast. Put real cream in your coffee. For years I needlessly eliminated these types of foods from my diet. All those opportunities for true satisfaction are lost. Who knows how many crappy snack foods I ate trying to make up for it.

When someone offers you great food...eat. 

The perfect snack food.

Be Exuberant

Life can be a grind. You go to work, pay endless bills, clean the house. We need to give our lives balance. How? Have some fun for crissakes!

If life really is so damn short, then we need to have a little perspective. In his book Exuberant Animal², Frank Forencich builds a case for play. Not only is it important for our bodies to be strong and fit, but we need to foster spirit and creativity. What’s so special about getting on a treadmill? Yeah, you burn off those calories you so gluttonously consumed on that all night Little Debbie binge. So what? You hate it. It deadens your soul. You’d rather do taxes than exercise. So don’t exercise! Play.

Let’s redefine training – for the body and mind:

1. Choose challenging, engaging exercises. I have never heard anyone say that they were bored doing power cleans.
2. Identify those exercises that you hate. Now, do you really need them? Is there something more fun that is just as effective? If you really do need the exercise, then change your perspective. Take the time to understand the benefits. Master the technique. Progress slowly. Make it a challenge that needs to be overcome.
3. Spend some time away from any sort of formal training. Play pickup basketball. Go dancing. Walk the dog. Whatever. Just make sure there are no rules. No sets and reps. No time limits. Make it organic.
4. Never stop learning new things. A lot of people only stick to what they know. They watch only certain programs. They read only certain kinds of books…go to only one kind of church. I’ve got news for you. The world is very large and very old. Many people have come and gone. Their lives have provided you with an incredibly broad and deep source of knowledge. Seek it out. I promise, purging yourself of ignorance will be one of the most fulfilling experiences you will ever know.

Embrace Vice

Vice (vīs), noun

1.  Any trivial fault or failing, act of self-indulgence, etc.

You’ve got it all figured out, eh? This right and wrong business. Certain behaviors are wholesome. Others should be avoided at all costs, lest you corrupt your mind and soul.

“Oh my, you shouldn’t be watching that!”

“I can’t go there.”

“You took what?”

“Don’t lick that! You don’t know where it’s been!”

What if this mindset is all bullshit? Is it so bad to embrace our quirky eccentricities? Should every bad habit be abolished? Every flaw medicated away until we’re good little boys and girls? How boring.

Paul Martin discusses this subject in Sex, Drugs and Chocolate: The Science of Pleasure.³ Certainly, our impulses can sometimes be bad. Society seeks to protect us from ourselves. We are told to beware. To feel guilty. Sometimes that may be a good thing, but is it always?

There’s a scientific and cultural basis to say no. Our physiology responds to the novel. We crave new stimuli…experience. The more we see - the more we express ourselves - the larger impact we can have on the world. That’s living.

I say embrace who you are and what you desire. Who cares what other people think? Wear the clothes you want to wear. Say what you need to say. Play the music you love as load as possible. Always eat the worm. Do the dare. Suck, don’t chew. Use a little bit more often.

Be who you are.

References

1. 1. http://www.physorg.com/news193936931.html
   2. http://www.amazon.com/Exuberant-Animal-Health-Joyful-Movement/dp/1425956637/sr=8-1/qid=1158098831?ie=UTF8&s=books
   3. http://www.amazon.co.uk/Sex-Drugs-Chocolate-Science-Pleasure/dp/0007127081

ingredients:
1 pound ground italian sausage
1 pound ground beef, bison, or turkey
1 sweet potato
3 handfuls of almonds 
garlic (i used 4 cloves)
1 red bell pepper
1 green bell pepper
1/2 large onion (i used red onion)
1 egg
1/2 can coconut milk (Native Forest Organic Classic found at Kroger)
organic tomato sauce or favorite pasta sauce (i used roasted garlic and mushroom pasta sauce)
a really big cast iron skillet
olive oil

prep:
wrap sweet potato in foil and bake in oven
3 handfuls of almonds into blender or coffee grinder and make meal.  it's ok if it's still a little chunky.
julienne peppers and onions and saute in skillet with olive oil
after sweet potato is cool enough to handle you can puree in blender with the garlic or just use your hands like me and combine all meat, egg, sweet potato, and minced garlic in large mixing bowl and smash it all together evenly.  i forgot to say you should peel the potato after baking.
make meatballs a little bigger than golf balls and place in skillet on top of peppers on onions
i fit all of them in my skillet.  if you have leftovers bake them on a sheet pan.
cover skillet with foil and put in oven at 400 (even better if your skillet has a lid)
heat up sauce in pan and stir in coconut milk
when meatballs are almost done throw away foil, cover with sauce, and finish in the oven

i steamed cauliflower and broccoli and dipped in the sauce as a side.

Be Nasty, 
 
justin