A big apology and nothing new under the sun?
16 November 2005If you're new here, you may want to subscribe to my RSS feed. Thanks for visiting!
First off: I totally spaced out yesterday and forgot about our 12-noon live on-line chat. Stacy had a horse emergency and had to help her horse mentor take a sick animal to the animal hospital. The required I step in and transport our daughter around to different places and I got so distracted that I forgot it was Tuesday. My apologies to those folks who posted questionsI will try and get to any posted questions in the next day or two.
I am enjoying the self-perpetuating momentum of our little websitemy participation has been lax of late but life has been, to quote the Temptations, A Ball of Confusion. TV cameras invade my home each week, folks now show up three times a week to train under my supervision, I write for four magazines and post a thousand words a day to this site. Im compiling material for a book, working on scripts, answering sixty e-mails a day, working out, hiking the woods and cooking meals for the family. All aboard the Crazy Train. I enjoy the eclectic mix of newcomers, old timers, elite, obese and crazed types we seem to attract. Im getting a bang out of some of the elder readers recalling and retelling tales and exploits of old time lifter/athletes. Old time athletes posted some astounding feats of strength and endurance that still stack up or exceed todays standards particularly impressive when you factor in that performance enhancing drugs and performance enhancing supportive gear did not exist. A visit to Muscle Beach circa 1955 would have been like old home week for a Purposeful Primitive; old school weight trainers using barbells and dumbbells (machines werent invented) worked out alongside hand-balancers and gymnastseveryone peacefully coexistingthe sun, the waves and the active athletic lifestyle. We now know a lot more about nutrition and our food is better and more plentiful thats a plus but the innocence of that era is long gone.
I detect a retro resurgence across the land as pockets of guerilla resistance to the ease, comfort and complexity of modern living seem to be springing up nationwidePavel resurrects kettlebells, Sonnon resurrects weighted clubs, Steve Maxwell up in Philly is subjecting clients to strange and grueling workouts while here in the Catoctin Mountains things are about as politically incorrect as humanly possible. The Old School ways (rooted in hard work, effort, strain, sweat and toil) are seemingly striking a respondent chord amongst a sizeable portion of modern health and fitness adherents. Plenty of folks are repulsed by contemporary trends and tired of being exploited and ripped off by fitness hucksters. Like the blues, Old School fitness will never ever die because its rooted in truth and experience and provides real results for those with true grit willing to pay the toil-price. Old School fitness is practiced in garages, basements and backyards and is the antithesis of slick corporate fitness. An Old School revival seems to be taking place. Back in the days of fitness innocence, a day at Muscle Beach might see Bill Pearl (who won the Mr. America title in 1955) compare notes with a young Paul Anderson visiting from Georgia. Marvin Eder, Dave Sheppard and Gypsy Boots might be training in the pit alongside Zabo and Pudgy Stockton while Jack Delinger, Armand Tanny and Steve Reeves tanned on the beach. Since there was no money to be had the motivation and untainted by crass commercialism. What drew this odd assortment of folks together was a pure love of fitness-related activity. There was camaraderie and kinship and even though the disciplines might have been different there was mutual respect.
I might have a totally different training philosophy from a guy like Maximum Maxwell, but I love his tough approach and respect and recognize his Old School work ethic. He sure as hell aint telling anyone how quick and easy itll be when they stroll into his no frills gym looking for guidance. The Old School guys unlike the new school guys do everything in their power to discourage new clients: I tell folks who want to train under me dont do it! Ive got nothing to offer but brutal workouts, disciplined eating, lung-searing cardio and there is sure to be a certain amount of blood and sweat on the gym floor. We scream and holler, spit and curse, push ourselves past our limits on a continual basis. I suggest to the surface skimmers and poseurs seeking my guidance to drive their Volvo station wagons on over to Ballys (apologies to Lorrie) and sign up with a handsome personal trainer with perfect hair, a tan and a smooth-as-glass rap. Most folks aint up for what Im serving too raw, too retro, too harsh and too unvarnished. Of course certain folks are attracted by this raw approach and these folks are impossible to discourage or scare offlike my Mack Truck factory worker who never lifted weights in his life he was too busy working 12-16 hour shifts. A man of few words he wanted a seat at the table and hes lost forty pounds of fat in forty days. His deadlift went from 95×5 to 275×10 in the same amount of time. Certain types dont scare easy. Sonny Barger once was asked how he picked Hells Angels: We dont pick em we recognize them! And so it is with modern day Old School Retro Adherents.
On a related note pardon me as Ive told this tale before but its so aprs that it must be retold: One day I was at the Muscle Factory in West Haven after a tough training session with Fantano and as was our post-workout custom we sat at the gym counter playing cards. A well heeled business type walked in and had not gotten ten feet inside the door when Fantano looked up from his hand of cards and said, Not for you. The businessman in the $1,000 suit stopped in his tracks. In his world he was treated deferentially and was confused. Pardon me? Ken threw his discard cards on the glass counter. Fat Pat, Danny D and I rounded out the foursome. Fantano got a grim expression, I said NOT FOR YOU! Perplexed, the man with the $100 haircut began to speak, I was told that this was the best facility in town and wanted to discuss joining Ken threw his cards on the counter and stood up. We all involuntarily leaned back. Danny began giggling, This is gonna be great! He whispered. Ken let loose with a string of profanities that would peel paint and began lumbering towards the guy who wisely began backpedaling. Rather than make a $400 sale Ken showed the guy the door. He sat back down and said, Whose play? Ken knew this guy wasnt going to bleed and suffer and he would rather take a street kid who couldnt afford to pay and give him a free membership than let a slickster join who would taint the sacred atmosphere hed worked so long and so hard to create.
Tags:Popularity: 4% [?]
Related Posts:
Sorry, the comment form is closed at this time.
