His feet barely touched the ground
20 October 2006If you're new here, you may want to subscribe to my RSS feed. Thanks for visiting!
I’ve been a little negligent over the past two weeks in terms of the website and wanted to issue myself a blanket pardon: two weeks ago was the DC seminar, which in retrospect turned out near perfect in terms of place, turnout (not too many, not too few) and actual seminar. I was last-minute dubious if we could fill three hours but to the contrary Kirk Karwoski and I found ourselves running out of time and having to move on to the next lift on the seminar menu. Then a wild monkey ride with my Russian comrade. I cannot tell you what a joy it is to periodically cross paths with Tsatsouline: it seems he is maturing and morphing into a new chapter in his life/career/job/passion. He was in DC working with the real Jack CTU Baur(s) in a kettlebell seminar…the Washington Redskin coaches just happened by to check out the K-Bell phenomena and the man who launched a thousand cannon-balls-with-handles. He was so typically dispassionate and detached, I got a team hat out of the deal and promptly passed that along to my wife: when she dawns it she becomes “the coach” and animals, kids and husbands have to do what the coach says. At least that’s the theory. We ate massive steaks at expense-account restaurants on my old neighborhood, Northwest DC, the epi-center of the political world. Staying at the Ritz on 22nd & M put us at the epi-center’s epi-center and you never have seen so many ear pieces and so many security goons. Right down our hallway on the way to the elevator one or two suit wearing earpiece guys would be leaning against a wall in a hallway outside the door. Who were they guarding, I had the perverse urge to “do a Costanza” any bring down a chair from our expensive 9th floor room. Why must they stand and lean? Why no chair? I suppose its “part of the job” but that job, guarding “The Man” whoever the Man might be, looks like one of long periods of immense boredom interspersed with short minutes of excitement; lights, camera, action! So I think I mentioned we ran into Patrick Ewing, who owns a condo at the Ritz, starting price for a one bedroom: $800,000. Ewing had added some weight since ending his decade long career and he was just massive: 7-1 and I would guestimate between 340/370 pounds, shapely and athletic; just a little thicker and fuller than when he ran up and down a BB court all day everyday. Democrat leader Harry Reid owns one of the condos…do you know what we call politics in DC? Show business for ugly people. Limos and uniforms and bustle and noise and movement; light years from my mountains, but it was strangely déjà vu, I once worked in this world and in this very neighborhood and while back then you became used to it, ‘Oh there goes the Presidential motorcade.’ Seeing it all again was oddly familiar. I sat at the bar and had a few Black Bushes with a tanned, immaculately groomed defense contractor who lived on a log cabin on a lake in Myrtle Beach. Lively guy quite sharp. Then the Russian showed up and he sipped a wine and we sat in a rich leather and teak booth and talked and listened to the club pianist. Lots of stories, lots of camaraderie. Back home for a day then off to Richmond, Virginia for three day powerlift fest. I have been negligent in my web-duties on account of crazy travel so bear with me…I’m inputting new data and fresh experience for future ruminations. Lots of interesting ideas and tactics on the Fitness Front. So I’m going to be a little more remiss over the next few days and hope to be back to ‘normal’ by mid-week next week. I bid you adieu!
Tags:Popularity: 2% [?]
Related Posts:
Sorry, the comment form is closed at this time.
