Our Party Is Now Three Strong...

No problem with that.

You ever notice how bad guys in macho action movies are pretty much just into bad stuff, no matter who it happens to? One of my favorite examples is in the film, Point Break (no one beats Swayze for unintentional comedy), when Swayze's character (incidentally, named Bodhi, as in The Bodhisaatva, or the enlightened one, for someone who robs banks, kills people, creates general mayhem--genius) lands in Mexico after a botched banks job. The guy on his team is supposed to pick up the entire gang but he doesn't even inquire about where the rest of the guys are. He and Swayze simply high five, utter some gutteral cretin yelp associated in action films (spring break parties, etc) with male coolness, and drive off into the sunset. "All our friends and colleagues were just killed. Woo-hoo. Doesn't get any better than that. High five!"

The title of this blog is from another film, Drop Zone. Gary Busey's character learns that one of his team has been identified and decided to take him out, which no one else on the team knows. During a jump he runs the guy into some electric wires, which you'd think would seem strange to the rest of their team. But, no. Upon landing they all whoop and high five, and don't even bother inquiring about why they'd eliminate one of their own. Busey then utters, "Our sky diving party is now four strong. No problem with that!" To which they all whoop and high five some more.

Soon after seeing this a group of us were bouldering when one of our group sprains his ankle after falling off a highball boulder problem. Our initial response is to help but one of us realizes how we'd behave if we were cool, turns to intercept us and proclaims, "Our bouldering party is now 3 strong. No problem with that." We all high five, walk to the next problem, and leave our (ex) buddy writhing on the ground in pain.

Macho-ness rocks.

Anyways, we now have three people doing this little round of P90X. All of us are cyclists and ex-climbers--I being the least ex of the bunch. So as I concoct this schedule it will accomodate some riding and, most likely, some climbing.

No problem with that. High five.

My P90X Journey

This isn't going to be a before and after success story but, since I'm about to begin a round of P90x I thought I'd re-record a little history of this project as I am one of only a few people who've seen it from its humble start to becoming the number one fitness program in the country. There used to be an online "scrap book" about its formation but it's been down for a few years. My account will be different, anyways (feeling a bit Deadwood-ish with this 'anyways' insert), since my involvement was more behind the scenes and technical. If you check in over the next 90 days I'll shed some light on its evolution. Besides an account of my suffering as I get back into proper birthday challenge shape, I'll recount a few yarns about the story of P90x. You'll learn a bit about why 90x was formed, why it works the way it does, and some of the stumbling blocks we overcame along the way.

Once again I find myself in terrible shape (this is relative, of course). I have some personal info that will serve as an excuse when it's announced but, excuses or not, this is a pattern that I often fall in to. It's really by choice to a degree. I enjoy the journey of getting back into shape. I also find recovery/rest/lazy phases important for not just body recovery but for mental stimulation as well. Without motivation all endeavors are compromised. My post challenge fallout generally begins feeling listless and ends when my motivation comes back. This year, it's a been a bit longer than normal.

This time, however, I have no huge objective to train for. This mean that my latest round of the X will be less abridged to accommodate my sports specific training than usual. I generally have a huge amount of outside training that I need to do, which changes the X routine. For example, here's my X schedule training for my 2003 birthday challenge:

P90x Training Schedule

This year I'm quite busy so I'm going to focus on recovery, overall body conditioning, and rehab to build myself back up to doing some bigger challenges next year. I still have some nagging injuries from last year's little epics. I have some arthritis in both my hands and feet--common for climbers/untrarunners etc. I have other issues in one knee and one foot. But both are more chronic than acute (though my December "ankle"--actually foot--sprain was worse than I'd originally thought). Anyways (really, if they can say this all the time in a show that wins heaps of writing awards...), the cure for nagging injuiries is to get your body into tip top condition. The fitter you are the more you resist breakdown. Doing sports all the time creates overuse and you become out of balance, muscularly. An intense program like the X brings everything back into balance, or homeostasis. And this gives you more capacity to thrash your body in whatever endeavors you pick up next.

So, okay, that's enough for today. I've a lot to do. I'm going to take before and after photos, which is something that I never do. Frankly, they won't look like too much. I'm out of shape but hardly fat--though I call myself fat constantly. What's really going to change is my performance. This will be huge. So I'm going to subject myself to a fit test today. Ohhhh, and it's going to suck. Bad. I can't believe that just a few months ago I was fit enough to do this:

2007 Birthday Challenge

Don't just train hard; train smart.
Steve

Fit Test

I knew this was going to be ugly as I'm about as un-fit as I've been in some time. Not fat or overweight but, decidedly, not fit. I'm going to post a before pic this week but nothing is going to do this program justice like the test I just took. Here are the vitals.

I almost never weigh myself and don't have a scale so that didn't happen. Frankly, I don't care. Ditto for body fat %. Those scales are wrong anyway. They only matter to tell you if you're going up or down, which you can also tell by pinching your fat areas. I don't expect--nor want it to--my weight to change much. I do expect my body fat to go down. It will. I don't need any stats.

Next up, pull-ups.

15, pretty strict. A bit of swing but no kip. Target at end: 30

Vertical leap, 18". Don't recall measuring this since high school when it was about 30". Also don't care much about it. Still, let's see if I can hit 25"

Toe touch, +4. I would think this will improve.

Push-up, 30. This is terrible. 60 is possible.

Wall squat, 2:30. Since I've never cared about such things, and still don't, I can only suppose this is awful. Doubling it seems reasonable.

Curl, 15 reps of 30 pounds. Don't do a lot of curls and don't care how many I can do.

In & outs, 45. I did this wrong and kept my upper body elevated. I remember doing over a 100 last time I tried. I supposed 120 should be my goal.

My HR was 56 when I began my warm-up. It finished the HR test at 170, counting (not monitor, which would be a bit more due to falling HR during count). Subsequent minutes at 100, 90, 75.

The worst thing is that I'll probably be sore tomorrow. Yikes.

Day 1 coming up. Tomorrow I'll post my schedule. Now I just need to write it.

Performance Enhancing Your Lifestyle

Interesting article on the wires today about doping, and how it's not just for sports but a way of American life. Here's an excerpt:

Delaware senator Joe Biden did in 2004 during a hearing on drugs in sports, "There is something simply un-American about [using PEDs]!"

But it's not un-American. It's entirely American, that search for an edge, that effort to be all you can be, that willingness to push the envelope. That's what Andy Pettitte was doing when he took HGH. That's what Debbie Clemens was doing when she took HGH. That's what male collegiate cheerleaders are doing when they bulk up on anabolic steroids so they can lift more weight, or more female cheerleaders, according to author Kate Torgovnick in her new book, Cheer! That's what a rapper is doing when he receives a package of PEDs at his hotel. That's what Schwarzenegger was doing when he loaded himself with steroids years ago. That's what Kevin and Peggy Hart are doing in the privacy of their bedroom with their HGH and their "test," now as familiar a morning ritual as tea and toast.

And here's a link to the entire article:

Steroids in America: The Real Dope

Million Dollar Body

I have a great job. I was reminded of this last week at our first annual Team Beachbody Million Dollar Body awards show. I'm not a big awards show person. I don't watch them. Don't want to go to them. And even when I've been nominated it's not really the way I like to spend my time. I'm an experience person. In Beachbody's case, a behind the scenes person. I like working with our trainers and members and watching them develop great programs and helping people change their lives. I generally consider awards shows a waste of time because the real awards have already happened.

HOWEVER...

This show was cool. I mean really friggin' cool. You'd have to be one cynical son-of-a-bitch not to be moved by the events last weekend. I've got to say that in all of my years working with health transformations it never gets old listening to our member's stories. And seeing it up in lights with some major production values was pretty amazing, especialy considering that when I began writing for Beachbody we had four employess: Carl, Jon, Heather and Heather (all still here). In fact, I met Jon approaching the venue--the Grove, bathed in spot lights--who noticed my impressed look, glanced up at the splendor, back and me, and laughed. "Who would have thought?" he said.

The awards show was just part of the event. There was also a coaches summit meeting. It was great to finally meet many of the people I've been working with virtually, many for many years. Being out of the office it was also great to see my old colleagues as well. It was cool to see how far MDB has come in just a year (now more than 5,000 coaches) and inspiring to think of ideas on how the summit could improve next year and how we can more readily get information out there to the coaches, who relay it to the world. By the end of the weekend you could see that we're more than just a small fitness company; we're a movement that could actually have a profound effect on the obesity epidemic.

I've got to add that it was also surprising to see how many people actually read this blog. Thanks! You've inspired me to try and do better with its content. I guess I'd better come up with some challenges for this year, too.

For anyone who missed it, you can watch some video at:

Million Dollar Body

I make sure and sign up for next year. I'm already looking forward to it.

See you there!

My New Hero

I don't understand retirement. Why would anyone spend their entire life figuring out what they want to do, getting better at it, and then quit?

I also don't understand slowing down, backing off, or abstaining from the things in life that make you happy. I tell this to people all the time and, generally, they react as if I'm either crazy or lying. My goal all along has been to experience life; find the things I like doing; and then doing those things until I die. Kind of like this guy who, as far as I can tell, has got it all figured out. 101 years old, working, training for races ("in my spare time"), drinking and smoking. I think I'm going to have to find myself a Pimlico Plumbers shirt. Cheers, mate.

http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/20080305/lf_nm_life/britain_marathon_dc

"My doctor told me that if I take perfect care of myself for the rest of my life, I'll get very sick and die." - Rodney Dangerfield

What Could be Cooler Than A...

Birthday Challenge?

The more I see others doing them the more I can answer "nothing". Micah's challenge this weekend was epic. But more than that--because many things qualify as epic these days--it was cool. And fun. And, I'll bet if you ask him, he'd tell you that it was rather meaningful and life altering also.

Here is a slide show from Bob's web site.

Because they're so personal, birthday challenges seem to enable each participant to break through barriers and sort out some meaning about how we amble through life like little else I've seen. Unlike sports, classes, books or self-help seminars, all of which are designed for mass participation, the personal nature of these challenges gives them a uniqueness like little else. They may be ridiculous, serious, silly or extreme but one thing they all share is that they are a reflection of the personality and dreams of an individual. And what could be cooler than that?

Here are two challenge blogs that I posted today.

Micah

Catra

above pic: Catra and friends during 43 hours of running.

Insane Eiger Speed Record

While I'm still sitting on my ass trying to figure out what this year's training objectives--other than a full knee recovery--are going to be other people are still out there gettin' after it. Like this guy. If this wasn't so out-there-friggin' fast I might be inspired. Instead, it just makes me feel fat and ineffectual. No, that's completely untrue. It's totally inspiring. But not in my usual "I can beat that" way but in a "oh-my-God! That is completely otherworldly" kind of way. This is so fast it's completely ridiculous.

Eiger Speed Record

But wait, there's more!

Skinny Fat

So I've been home for a month and am probably in the worst shape I've been in this decade. After a few weeks of nursing some post-challenge injuries I headed off to India where I managed to lose 15 pounds of muscle. This means that I weigh less than I did during my bd challenge but my body fat percentage is higher. Skinny fat; that's what I am. Same thing happened to my friends Trent and Dawn, an uber-fit couple who also shedded a lot of muscle in Nepal. You walk a lot, do pretty much no intense exercise, eat bad food, breathe polluted air, and battle dysentary. The result: skinny fat.

However, I've been back a month. Long enough to reverse this except for, well, battling some sort of Asian monkey virus that passed to Romney just as I was beating it, which has essentially kept me grounded. I'm finally healed up, completely out of excuses, and find my self with no goals for 2008 except to heal a couple of nagging injuries. Talking to the red capped cashier (thankfully no speedo though) at the Wild Oats last night got me thinking about my rumored retirement (no, damnit, I'm not old) and the words of the late Kingsley "Ned" Zissou, "What's next for Team Zissou?"

(dictated but not read)

pic - our equity partner, Ned

Early Season

"Your muscles are coming back," said Romney last night. And, sure enough, after less than a week of my first real training since my birthday challenge I'm starting to feel normal again. This week I took advantage of the upcoming end of the world and biked and climbed in absurdly warm Feb weather. The first two rides I suffered like a dog. Yesterday I'd already come up a notch and could easily turn a bigger gear. Climbing-wise, last weekend I was falling off of 5.11s that I normally warm up on. Yesterday, I one-hanged the last hard route I did in the fall (okay, not hard by any sort of standard except my current one but, ya know, 12c). It feels good to be training again. Injuries could be a problem, but that's another story.

We also dieted this week. It was an easy diet, relatively, but no diet is truly easy. Otherwise it wouldn't be a diet. The rules were simple: no sugars or grains or junky fats. So all fruits, veggies, meat, and good oil (olive, basically) was on. No other junk. With 5 (aghast!) pounds to lose it was Romney's first diet ever. On day three I received this rather-poetic text:

Our diet has brought me to a near death experience and I'm pretty sure the light at the end of the tunnel is reflecting off of a loaf of warm golden brown bread. You can't stop me. I'm walking towards it.

Goodbye cruel, grainless world. Goodbye.

I was excited that she'd given up because it meant that I could, too. But, alas, it was all a rouse a we met a bit later for some salad. After Romney nearly passed out at her uber-Gym Jones-ian workout Thursday we did say good-bye to the grainless world for the weekend. Next week will be round two.

With no goals of my own this year, Ben has roped me into a climbing pyramid. If we complete it I'll redpoint my hardest route in a decade this year. While that seems light years away at the moment, I'm keen to have a go since we can do this all without having to drive more than an hour. Living in Utah rocks.

Bike n' Booze: For A Long Healthy Life

This may be the best news I've ever heard.

Maybe Bikes & Booze Do Mix



If you enjoy a post-ride beer you may be increasing the heart-healthy benefits of cycling.

A study in Denmark, biking capital of the world, has found that drinking alcohol in moderation seems to have benefits similar to exercise. This research, reported in Time's Feb. 4 issue, is significant in that it was conducted on 12,000 people over a 20-year period.

It was found that exercise and drinking alcohol each had an independent beneficial effect on the heart. Mainly, an increase in good cholesterol (HDL) and the removal of fatty deposits created by bad cholesterol (LDL) in blood vessel walls.

The study also determined that drinking and exercise combine to have a greater health benefit than either alone. The Danish researchers defined four categories and found that . . .

people who never drink and don't exercise had the highest risk of heart disease.

people who never drink but do exercise had a 30% lower risk.

people who drink moderately but never exercise had a 30% lower risk.

people who drink moderately and exercise had a 50% lower risk.

Now, before you swap your Endurox for a 6-pack of Pabst, here are the caveats:

A research team spokesman, Dr. Morten Gronbaek of Denmark's National Institute of Public Health, says the benefits of alcohol don't kick in until you're at the age -- 45 to 50 -- where heart disease becomes an appreciable risk.

"There's absolutely no proof of a preventative and protective effect before age 45," Gronbaek told Time. Further, alcohol consumption is related to an increase in breast cancer among women, and anyone who has a family history of alcoholism should steer clear no matter what their age.

The study imposed a limit of one drink a day for women and two for men. It did not distinguish among beer, wine and liquor. It calls for common sense in determining a "moderate" amount: a 12-oz. beer and a double martini are far different even though they fit in the same size glass.

Good Artificial Sweetener Article

I should be blogging more regularly soon. In the mean time, more and more press from the real world is backing up some stuff that I've been yammering on about for years. This is from yesterday's LA Times.

Researchers think the sweetener blunted lab rats' ability to burn off calories from their regular food portions.

By Denise Gellene, Los Angeles Times Staff Writer
February 11, 2008

Casting doubt on the benefit of low-calorie sweeteners, research released Sunday reported that rats on diets containing saccharin gained more weight than rats given sugary food.

The study in the journal Behavioral Neuroscience found that the calorie-free artificial sweetener appeared to break the physiological connection between sweet tastes and calories, driving the rats to overeat.

Related Stories
- With faux sugars, real suspicion

Lyn M. Steffen, an associate professor of epidemiology at the University of Minnesota, who was not involved in the latest report, said the study offered a possible explanation for the unexpected association between obesity and diet soda found in recent human studies.

Researchers have puzzled over whether diet soda is a marker for poor eating habits or diet soda ingredients cause people to put on pounds, she said. "This rat study suggests a component of the artificial sweetener may be responsible for the weight gain."

Steffen's own recent research has shown that people who drink diet soda have a higher risk of developing metabolic syndrome -- a cluster of symptoms including obesity -- than do people who drink regular soda. Her research was published last month in the American Heart Assn.'s journal Circulation.

An industry group rejected Sunday's report.

"The causes of obesity are multifactorial," said a statement by Beth Hubrich, a dietitian with the Calorie Control Council, which represents low- and reduced-calorie food and beverage marketers. "Although surveys have shown that there has been an increase in the use of 'sugar-free' foods over the years, portion sizes of foods have also increased, physical activity has decreased and overall calorie intake has increased."

The number of Americans who consume soda, yogurt and other products containing sugar-free sweeteners more than doubled to 160 million in 2000 from fewer than 70 million in 1987, according to the report. Over the same period, the incidence of obesity among U.S. adults rose to 30% from 15%.

One interpretation of the trends is that people have been turning to lower-calorie foods to control an increasing problem with weight gain.

An alternative interpretation is that artificial sweeteners lead to biological or behavioral changes that cause people to eat more. This possibility is easier to test in rats than in people because scientists can control the animals' diets and measure exactly what they eat, said the study's lead author, Susan E. Swithers, an associate professor of psychological sciences at Purdue University in Indiana.

In the experiment, funded by the National Institutes of Health and by Purdue, nine rats received yogurt sweetened with saccharin and eight rats received yogurt sweetened with glucose, which is close in composition to table sugar. After receiving their yogurt snack, the animals were given their usual chow.

At the end of five weeks, rats that had been fed sugar-free yogurt gained an average of 88 grams, compared with 72 grams for rats that dined on glucose-sweetened yogurt, a difference of about 20%. Rats fed sugar-free yogurt were consuming more calories and had 5% more body fat.

In a related experiment, scientists gave the two groups of rats a sugary drink and measured changes in the animals' body temperatures. Body temperatures typically rise after a meal because it takes energy to digest food.

The rats in the saccharin group experienced a smaller average temperature increase, scientists said -- a sign that regular consumption of artificial sweeteners had blunted their body's response to sweet foods, making it harder for the animals to burn off their extra calories.

Swithers said that normally, sweet tastes signal that the body is about to receive a lot of calories, and the digestive system prepares to react. When sweet tastes aren't followed by lots of calories, as in the case of artificial sweeteners, the body becomes conditioned against a strong response.

Although the experiment looked only at saccharin, other artificial sweeteners may have the same effect, Swithers said.

A controlled study is needed to determine whether sweeteners have the same effect in people as in rats, she said, but some epidemiological studies have been consistent with her findings.

Swithers' next step, she said, will be to determine whether dietary changes could reverse the rats' physiological responses.

Adam Drewnowski, director of the nutrition sciences program at the University of Washington, cautioned against interpreting the results broadly.

"It is unreasonable to claim that results obtained studying saccharin in rats translate to every sweetener in humans," said Drewnowski, who has received research funding from the beverage industry in the past.

He added: "We now have studies showing that sugar calories are associated with obesity and the absence of sugar is associated with obesity. Pity those people trying to do something about obesity."

Super Bowl Sunday

I used to play football but now I could not care about it less. I haven't watched an NFL game in years and don't plan to begin today. The only thing I like about Super Bowl Sunday is that there are less people playing outdoors...

But this video is the best thing about the NFL I've seen this year, if not ever. It almost makes me want to watch the game, if just to think about how Hitler might be reacting. I do follow headlines enough to know that Tom Brady is injured, which I think is what those looks at the end are about. This (except for the 5th grade spelling errors) is incredibly well done.

A Few Words On Sir Edmund Hillary

Sir Edmund Hillary, the man who made the first ascent of Sagarmatha (Mt. Everest) with Sherpa Tenzing Norgay, died today. Here is what I wrote to the Nacirema Drinking Society:

This is so strange. This is a man who was profoundly influential on my life. The first thing that inspired me to climb was the book High in the Thin Cold Air, by Ed Hillary. On the cover was Amadablam, the mountain that inspired me to climb mountains. In fact, I was writing a blog on this topic, still unfinished, just this morning. I read everything that Hillary had written prior to ever lacing up a pair of boots. Hillary always reminded me of my dad. And here I am, in Nepal, Hillary's true home (he was the New Zealand ambassador and did a ton of work on the schools here) and most likely even drinking Everest beer, with Tenzing on the label, when he dies. Life can be poetic in the oddest sense.

I would recommend Chang as drink of the month but am afraid I'd be the only one who could procure some. In lieu of anything else particularly Hillary-esqe, I'll second a Beefeater martini and I'll find myself a few later this evening. After all, he was knighted by the Queen.

"I don't remember much about those seven days (stuck in a snow storm on Cho Oyu) except that somewhere around day 4 or 5 George (Lowe, Kiwi not ours) came over, stuck his head inside my tent and said, 'You know, Ed, some people wouldn't think this was fun. (sic)"

This is from memory from one reading of his first autobiography, Nothing Venture, Nothing Win (now out of print and nearly impossible to find), back in the early 80s. Influential is no exaggeration.

So tonight raise a glass to one of the most important people in my life who, at least, is directly responsible for me spending a good portion of my life in the thin cold air.

Cheers Ed. Ya done good, mate.

Everest View

I’m not sure if I’ll ever travel again without at least some sort of athletic agenda. No matter what I’m distracted by, I spend most of my travel time wanting to be active. Conversely, I think the only way that I can relax and actually enjoy my new experiences is if I’ve been able to placate those demons that keep demanding that I push my body to the wall.

Yesterday I finally got a free day in Nepal and needed to do something that would hurt. I’d inquired with some trekking companies but they didn’t seem to understand my needs. The major treks from this area were all too long (15 days to Everest Base Camp) to be seriously contemplated in a day. The minor ones all seemed way too easy.

One of the minor treks visited an “Everest view point” in the range outside of town. It involved a two hour drive to the start and a pick up at the end. None of this sat well with me. However, looking at the course on the map I could see how it might be good on a mtn bike. So I decided to have a go at it.

I found a shop that rented mountain bikes and began going over their stock. I felt like an old west gunslinger picking a weapon as I brushed aside the sales clerk and began rifling through the bikes. I looked at components, tires, condition of each bike before choosing one. I gave it a quick once over, inflated the tires to the proper pressure, then rode it out the door, down the steps, did a bunny hop turn in the hallway and rode back in. The entire process had taken me about one minute. “I’ll take it.”

They gave me a map and inquired about an itinerary. “Nagarkot viewing platform,” I said. His reply was to ask me how many days I needed the bike. “What time do you close?” He tried to tell me what I was trying was “not possible” so I just said “maybe I’ll go somewhere else then. See you before 5,” and was off.

I hadn’t been on a bike in a month and it felt so good I can’t even describe it. I rode into the crowded streets of Thamel and began what was, essentially, a trials ride (for me) through the traffic. Out of the inner city I hit commuter traffic, which was a hoot. Driving in Asia is rather crazy. There seem to be no rules at all. But, as I’ve said before, a survivalist world is one that I thrive in and I’m quit certain that I was the fastest moving vehicle in Kathmandu yesterday. I bobbed and weaved my way through carts, busses, autos, motorcycles, and trucks. This “Sega game”, a term made up by some French guys who we’ve been hanging with who travel around on motor bikes continued for about an hour until I reached the tourist town of Baktapur.



Outside of town thing began to slowly change. I gradually moved up out of the smog and into open countryside. My breathing, which has been erratic and clunky for most to the trip, began to normalize. I stopped coughing for the first time in weeks. As I gained elevation I became more and more at ease and soon my body felt like it was reaching a state of homeostasis for the first time since I’d been in Asia.





My bike, a low-range Giant mtn bike, was perfect. It made me again realize how much money we waste on the highest grade of components and other silly stuff. This bike probably costs less than my friend Dustin spends for monthly upgrades on his race bike. And it was fine. It was reasonably light, well tuned, shifted and brakes well, and the pedals turned without interference. Sure, I’d be a touch faster on something else but no amount of money could heighten the experience I was having.

My first break was when I crested the hillside and got my first fairly close view of the Himalaya. It was breathtaking. A bus of Bulgarian tourists stopped and spoiled my solace, but it at least offered a chance to get a photo with me in it. One of the women looked around and asked, “are you alone?” After my affirmative and that my destination was “wherever the road ended” she added “you don’t mind being up here not knowing where you’ll sleep?” Man, haven’t any of these people ever heard of the Tour de France? I was probably only 30 or so kilometers and 3,000’ above Kathmandu. You’d have thought I was in Tibet.



The final climb up to the viewing tower had some seriously steep pitches and my legs were getting wobbly. It took actual effort to ride it non-stop, which was exactly what I wanted. Unfortunately, the clouds were rolling in and my Everest views were a bit skewed. The place was trashed, literally, and kind of depressing. But you could still see the majesty of the range—and this was a range I’d been reading about since I was a kid. I was okay with the downside.

On my descent I explored some dirt roads and found some off swanky hotels with Himalayan views that were filled with rich-looking tourists sipping cocktails or something. I’m not sure why but this blew my buzz. It all seemed so… Imperialist or something. So I headed down.



The ride home kinda sucked. Dropping back into the pollution was pretty miserable. It made me want to go home to my mountains. I was just wearing normal trousers and had decent saddle sores, which weren’t helping. I also hadn’t eaten and had a little bonk going. I only perked up once I got back to my bike messenger-esque riding through traffic where I felt it my duty to remain the fastest vehicle on the road.

I turned the bike in at 4:30. The guy asked where I rode. I told him but am pretty sure he didn’t believe me.

The Sound of Infinity

In my youth I read a lot about India, almost all of which centered on the spiritual. Stories of Imperialists were often rousing good fun but it was the sacred side of India that captivated me. The side the read the Upanishads, the place where Buddha become enlightened, where Maughm’s character from The Razor’s Edge finally exorcised “polite” society to discover the truth in life.

The India I finally arrived in was slightly different. A cacophony of sounds and smells perhaps unlike anywhere else on earth. If India is the spiritual center of the universe it must be because it’s so difficult to be spiritual here. Ones entire existence can easily be filled with nothing but distraction. Driving is more hazardous than a demolition derby. A simple walk can have you literally shaking beggars off your limbs. Your clothes become so dirty that you either wash them daily or just stop caring. For the average westerner, it’s a full scale assault on every one of your senses.

I spent my first week or so in one place and, soon enough, was rolling with it. India just became another place where anything was possible. It had good things, bad things, stuff I loved and stuff I loathed. By the time I was to leave Kolkata, I’d declared it my favorite polluted city on earth.

But touring was different. Kolkata, while mad and crazy and frantic seemed real. Out on the tourist’s path the assault was direct intervention. It was calculated. It was boring—a bit like Disneyland gone apocalyptic. I hate tourists and I never wanted to be one. Now I was.

Christmas at the Taj

Still, seeing the Taj Mahal seemed worth a sacrifice. This monumental expression of love was something it would be hard to be in striking distance of and ignore. Sure, the story may have involved some less than stellar people exploiting thousands of others for their selfish, over-the-top lifestyle, but who was I to judge a life that happened centuries ago? I wanted to experience it for myself.

But the idea of viewing it with thousands of others didn’t appeal to me. Night tours were said to be unpopular so I was hoping to catch one but, apparently, they were so unpopular that they were no longer an option. Then I heard about the sound of infinity.

The Taj is flawlessly constructed and the main chamber is said to be acoustically perfect. However, given there are hoards of people in it virtually every second its open experiencing this is difficult to do. Apparently if you do get yourself some time alone you can experience something called “the sound of infinity,” which is a subtle “whoosing” sound made when air circulates through the chamber. This sounded like it could evoke something of spiritual India. Now I just needed to figure a way to make it happen.

Our guide would pick us up at 6am, which I’d heard was when the Taj opened. Being India, the freest country in the world, I knew it would open whenever someone with a key was motivated to let people in. So I told everyone I’d see them there, then got up around 4 and went for a run.

I was surprised to see people on the streets at this hour. And even more surprised to pass a few runners. By the time I approached the Taj things were already bustling. At the gate my heart sank when I saw a short line of people being let inside.

With no other option I bought my ticket and kept running. The main viewing/photo op area was a zoo of people setting up for the sunrise. Beyond this, I was alone. I checked my shoes and found my way up to the main chamber. I couldn’t hear a sound as I stepped through the entrance. And then, “Please sir, I am guide.”

I politely refused but the guy wasn’t having any. He kept talking. His voice echoed beautifully off the ceiling but I that’s not why I was there. When I finally got him to quiet down someone else walked in. I moved around to the back and was still as possible and tried to hear through them. The sound in this room was incredible. The guide chanted “om” towards the ceiling and it was the most moving om I’d heard. But it wasn’t why I was there. I stood totally still and quiet and waited. Then they both walked out. I was alone.

It took a while for the sound to stop reverberating off of the walls. When it finally did, there was still a sound. A faint whoosh filled the chamber: the sound of infinity. Subtle, beautiful; it constantly changed based on any movement. I closed my eyes and tried to empty my head for a second. It was magic. It was also strangely familiar.

It dawned on me that I’ve heard this sound before; in the mountains. It’s almost the exact sound of standing alone on a summit on a clear quiet day. The subtleties were different but everything else felt the same. I could see why this was so moving to people. Most never see, or feel, a summit. And others the do are rarely alone. In my life, I get to hear the sound of infinity constantly. Perhaps it’s why John Muir described the first ascent of Cathedral Peak as “the first time I’ve been to church”. The mountains were my cathedrals. No human could rebuild them. A moment later the guide was back with another client, chatting incessantly.

I walked outside and ran into Jayda, a girl I’d met in Delhi who was traveling through Asia alone. I told her about the “sound” but when we went back in the crowds had gathered. The chance was lost until closing. We then found my family. They’d missed it too. Though they didn’t really understand they seemed genuinely happy that I’d done whatever I was attempting.

The crowds intensified—loud, obnoxious; more worried about how they looked in photos than trying to experience the grandeur of the monument. My sister’s boyfriend, a photographer, shared stories of the sunrise photo madness where an American—“of course”—had placed himself in front of everyone and refused to even crouch so others could get photos—his is overt disdain for anyone else’s problems only placated by a guard wielding a shotgun. I had enough of the crowds and, without a word, I slipped away.

Walking back to the hotel I was approached by a rickshaw. “Please sir, nobody is allowed to walk in India. Get in.”

“What about Gandhi,” I countered. “Didn’t he walk everywhere?”

The kid looked disgusted and with a wave of his hand was off. Yep, India had changed. But amongst the madness I found my moment of magic. It would have to be enough.

Facing Demons & My Year End Report

playing an imperialist at the calcutta club, kolkata, india

I almost wrote this prior to leaving to India but knew spending the holiday season half way around the world would add more than a footnote to my recap. Ironically, though sitting in a Raj era hotel in Kolkata that is famous for housing writers, chronicling my own insignificant life isn’t coming easy. Given, however, that this is my blog I will attempt to do so nonetheless.

I’ve written a lot on this trip but am happy with almost none of it. India is an assault on the senses. So much so that describing it promotes a tendency towards hyperbole. Though most of my trip is over it feels as though my adventures here have just begun—I’m family now. Therefore, save for the anecdote below, I’ll leave this part of my life alone pending further contemplation.

2007 was another year of transition. Though ending it in Asia, I’ve become a full time resident of Utah. I love the mountains and the place I call home. For the first time in my travels—at least that I can recall—I’m actually looking forward to my return. “Not kicking and screaming this time?” asked my friend Lisa echoing my general sentiments on ending any travel. And, oddly enough, my answer was an affirmative.

The big news of the year has been Beachbody; my primary employer and, thus, my default responsibility. I had cut back my hours to work towards my PhD but was called back into full-time action, most serendipitously, as more of our products took off. Primarily responsible for this was P90X and, for those of you who’ve known me for a while will attest, this is a reward for a lot passion and hard work. We spent years developing this program only to find it tough to fit into the market. Perhaps it’s no coincidence that, along with its success, the obesity rate in the US has leveled off for the first time in four decades. Go us.

Most of my other projects have thus been flat. Wall Rats did find a home. Then, in a Hollywood-esque scene right out of The Big Picture, lost it. Then found one again. I think it’s being released at the end of Jan. The long-time California guide book is also near completion—well, volume one anyway. My two other books ideas are being worked on but still not ready to shop around. Hopefully that will happen this year.

Athletically, not much happened though I was about as active as ever. Living in such an amazing playground it’s quite hard to focus on one thing. Ben Ditto, who moved to Utah as a young talented climber in order to further his aspirations put it perfectly when he told me, “I quit climbing so much when I moved here because it just seemed wrong not to experience everything the Wasatch has to offer.” So I ran, rode, raced, skied, snowshoed, scrambled, climbed, explored, and tried to punctuate it with a decent birthday challenge. At the premier of the new Warren Miller film, the best segment was about Utah, which opened with glowing descriptions of the many variations of Gobsmacking scenery you will encounter and the line, “It’s a place where you can wake up in summer and drive into winter,” then segued into a bunch of crazy ski tricks into powder before finishing with “don’t try this at home, people, unless your home happens to be Utah.”

Yep. That’s where I live.

In closing, I’ll leave you with a short tale from India. Happy New Year!

Today I was chased by my demons. On a walk to an ancient mountain top fort I was, as usual, way ahead of everyone else when stir craziness hit me like it never has before. I couldn’t look at another tourist, another “guide”, beggar, peddler, or place filled with the masses living vicariously through things that had happened before them (not that there’s anything wrong with this, but I digress). So I took off, running, across the large plateau the fort is located on, through many of the old remains not inhabited, and then down into the most likely location to spot tigers in the wild on the planet.


with my dad


mom and brian at the victoria memorial

Following my brother’s wedding, I had acquiesced to travel with my family around India. Now I love my family. I love spending time with them. But a Griswald-like holiday trip with six grown people was an absurd thing for me to take part in. While we’re all seasoned travelers, I’m different. I’m different than almost everyone. I’m restless. I move fast. I often lose track of this fact because I’ve surrounded myself with others like me but faced with the masses it starkly apparent how different I am. My family knows this and gives me space. Unfortunately, on this trip there was little space to be had.


some indian jazz bar

So I ran. Into the depths of Rontambhore National Park. At this point, I would have preferred to be killed by a tiger than to endure any more tourism. I’m not a good tourist. When I travel I attempt to disappear into a culture and have no interest in sightseeing or hanging around people from back home. I can’t deal with tourists, and generally avoid them, but this trip had faced me with an onslaught. Nothing mattered, at all, except to get far away from people. I’d made it this far. I only had to endure one more day and then I could travel on my own. But the fear had gripped my throat and was strangling the life out of me. I had to escape its clutches. I ran until all traces of recent human activity were far out of sight and mind. It was only then that I became a bit worried about tigers.

I’ve dealt with plenty of animals in the wild, alone. But tigers scare me. I’ve met them face to face in controlled situations and never felt too comfortable. I don’t have the same rapport with cats as other mammals. In spite of this, I kept going. I needed to. I broke a branch off a tree and fashioned it into a gun, knowing tigers in populated areas are generally scared of guns. It helped. I continued until, jumping off a rock I turned my ankle on a rock hidden in the grass.

I knew it was pretty bad because I had to concentrate in order not to vomit. It wasn’t that bad, but I knew it was going to swell and I’d better turn around because it was going to slow me way down. And, oddly enough, being forced into even the slightest state of survival mode changed my mindset. I was at peace again; living life the way it feels right. I was born to live in a survivalist state. Instead of spending my life trying to make the word healthier, I should welcome its demise and hope for the apocalypse because that’s the society I would thrive in. But I don’t. I try to combat my demons in order to understand them. And thus, until recently, my life had been a series of failed attempts to somehow fit in.

I could no longer run but I could walk pretty fast, so I opted to explore a different path back to the fort. I found an old stone wall (apparently the fort was once surrounded by a seven kilometer wall) and traversed it back towards the tourist area where I encountered my next obstacle.

In my way were a group of large monkeys sitting in a two-tiered court area right in front of me. It was too far to backtrack (not really, but I didn’t want to) and the walls under me were probably 25’ so I couldn’t jump. I approached to monkeys wondering if they’d let me pass. As I got close I knew this option wasn’t going to fly as they were agitated. I found a place amongst them where the wall was lower, about 15’. I could jump, provided I could get there. The first monkey let me pass. The second bared his teeth to threaten me, and then the rest all followed suit and now I was surrounded by a menacing pack, with more right above me. I needed first one that threatened me to move. I didn’t want to be aggressive towards him (a hit or miss monkey tactic that seemed a poor gamble as the group could tear me to shreds). So I looked at him stoically, looked down where I intended to jump, and said “don’t worry, buddy, I’m just going down there” and pointed. He looked down, back at me, and then backed up a step and let me jump.

I limped home.

Icing my ankle gave me an excuse to miss the afternoon safari where the rest of my family would be treated to some great tiger viewing. Telling my brother that, more than my ankle I just couldn’t endure any more tourists; he captured my feelings with a quote from the film Repo Man that was also used in a profile written about me by my friend Bob. “Look at those poor assholes over there. Ordinary fuckin’ people. I hate ‘em.”

I don’t really hate them. I don’t hate anybody. But I do feel better when they’re not around.

Guru's Dream Gym

Watching people exercise in India is like watching a film from the 70’s. They still do standard calisthenics, bounce when they stretch, don’t warm-up or cool-down thoroughly, or complete a myriad of other “must dos” as deemed by the modern fitness world. But, hey, hardly any of them are fat. They must be doing something right.


the national passtime

Many trainers in the US promote one type of training above all else. Wild proclamations such as “that won’t work,” “you’ll get injured if (insert any type of exercise they don’t teach,” “your body can’t digest (any type of food they don’t subscribe to)”, and so on, fill the health wires. But if we really had all of these answers, and there was really only one right way to train or to eat, why are we still getting fatter? It seems that even the most altruistic of us have become self protectorate. It’s our way or the highway, or else we won’t get your business. But when it comes to diet and exercise this couldn’t be further from the truth. Our bodies simply need exercise and decent food. Other than that, it’s all nitpicking. The latest technology comes into play when we’re training athletes, where a 1% improvement in performance is the difference between a Gold medal and not qualifying for the race. But for the average person 1% is nothing. Obesity rates have tripled; body masses indexes are up nearly 30%. If we simple swapped out the time we spent bickering about the “right” way to exercise into actually doing any kind of exercise, we’d slash these figures by double digits.


"there's a new sheriff in town."

“Guru” over at Guru’s Dream Gym seems to know this. Ashna, my brother’s fiancé, couldn’t help but walk in and, in with John-Wayne-covered-in-a-saree-esque swagger, announce that there was a new sheriff in town. She got his card and, while we haven’t had our fitness knowledge high noon showdown yet, I did manage to check out his facility. It’s filled with a lot of equipment that reminds me of my high school gym. It was also packed with people, most of them getting after it pretty good. Other than Hindi push-ups I didn’t see a lot of “trendy” first world technology being applied. No functional movements, no pilates, ergometers, or “power” yoga. Just good old fashioned exercise. And while it wasn’t World Gym in Venice Beach, nobody was fat either. Maybe there’s a lesson there. I think the Guru and I will agree on the one.


with food like this how come everyone isn't fat? ok, there's no food in the pic but if you saw it you'd know what i mean.

The Fitness Yogi

I’m in India for my brother Brian’s wedding. He lives in England but is marrying an Indian girl. I’ve always wanted to see India but, since I began traveling, have rarely been to destinations that didn’t include climbing as part of the itinerary. This was a good excuse to finally get there.



My favorite way to get acquainted with a new place is to go for a run. You can’t get the lay of the land, nor a feel for its people, from a car or, to some degree, even public transportation. You need to go where the people go in their daily lives. In most countries, this is done on foot. And when you’re running, you can cover a lot of a city in very little time.

Traffic in India is crazy. It’s also kind of fun—a bit like Mr. Toad’s Wild Run with diesel engines. You zip around dodging rickshaws, dogs, goats, bussed, trolleys, goats, cows, etc. At each stop you’re accosted by just about any form of beggar, all using some sort of tact, talent, or tidbit to help them stand out from the crowd. It’s an experience not to be missed but, if it’s your only mode of transport, will ensure that you’re missing out on a lot. So each day, I take to the streets on foot.



It’s very rare to see another runner here. When you do it’s generally in a park or stadium. I’ve yet to see one on the streets. You do see plenty of other modes of human transport. The once ubiquitous human powered rickshaw is now outlawed, though you’ll find plenty in the heart of downtown (laws being more like suggestions), but velo-shaws are everywhere. In fact, anything you might want to cart around town you’ll find attached to a bike. All of them are single speed, meaning that you’ll want to size up your driver before hiring one. But hardly anyone runs for exercise, especially on the streets.




A two hour run/tour had my local area (oddly enough called Salt Lake) pretty well sussed. By the end of the run Kolkata no longer seemed crazy. It was just a city, with wild parts and serene parts. I also learned that Bengalis are big on character. And their definition of what gives character is different the what is standard in the west.

Things here are often run down, and that’s how people seem to like it. Even nice things. It’s funny to see something that you can tell a lot of work went into building—which is still in good condition structurally—that is allowed to dilapidate to a great degree. This was never more apparent than at the Salt Lake stadium, which is supposed to be the largest stadium in Asia, or at least southern Asia. Running around its perimeter my first thought was that it might be condemned. Shanties were built in and around it. It was locked up but not well. You could just walk in. But the grass was in fine shape and, in the subsequent days, things seemed to be going on inside on most of them. Around the perimeter many people engaged in sport, usually cricket or soccer, but many other variants as well. The odd thing was that they choose little patched of dirt or abandoned building sites for this activity, yet there were large empty manicured football pitches and cricket fields right near by. According to Ashna, “If it doesn’t have dirt, Bengalis don’t want anything to do with it.”



Armed with this knowledge I found my training facility of choice for this trip. It’s a beat up police training obstacle course, which will allow me to do P90x type circuits. It even has ropes to climb and traverse (so Tony would be psyched). I also found a very nice abandoned climbing wall. It’s looked creaky and a little scary and only one side had any holds. I climbed as high as I dared, which wasn’t too high since the holds weren’t stable. It was amazing. This wall must have cost $100,000 to build. It was nice. And abandoned. Next time I come I’ll consider bringing climbing gear and holds.



I get a lot of odd looks, waves, and occasional chides on my run. And, while most people look absolutely confused, the reactions are overwhelmingly positive. Because I’ve been running in an orange shirt, Brian has suspected that perhaps they see me as some type of fitness yogi. Orange, I’ve learned, is only worn by men who’ve become enlightened. This has added some fuel to the credence of Ashna’s idea that I would have an almost instantaneous cult following if I were to move here and champion exercise as a way to enlightenment.



I may have added to this allure by getting into an impromptu race with some velo-shaws. I generally pass these without any notice. On one long stretch, a guy I passed came back around me. I didn’t react until he passed another, which sped up to stay ahead of me. This caused a chain reaction until the rickshaw traffic on the entire street was much more spirited than normal. I speed up to watch the action, then decided to see if I could catch them. I passed them all until I caught the original driver. He put in another surge, with no reaction towards me at all, and we raced back and forth until we hit my final roundabout in a dead heat. With neither of us giving away the we were racing, all we did was exchange a subtle but knowing look. Me, happy because it forced me into a better workout. He satisfied, no doubt, because he held off the charge of an enlightened fitness yogi.

The Fattening of America

Not too many days go by when I don’t ponder, to some degree, the question of why America became so fat? We’re a country blessed with advantages, technology, information, equipment, and open space. Yet we continue to expand horizontally and our health continues to plummet, even with incredible advances being made in medicine. The capitalist in me tells me to stop questioning and enjoy the job security. The humanist in me would gladly change careers in order to help the planet. My competitive American spirit is simply pissed off. When did we become the problem rather than the solution?

Nothing brings this to light more than traveling. The first time in traveled to Europe, some 30 years ago, the world was a completely different place. The difference between the USA and, pretty much, any country in Europe was apparent without leaving the airport. America was clean, modern, spiffy. Europe was old, quaint, and in need of repair. Today this has flip-flopped. American airports are over-crowded, stressful, the entire system in need of an overhaul. Conversely, European airports are now clean, modern, and spiffy.

The biggest difference though, by far, is the people. 30 years ago nobody was fat anywhere, at least not that you’d notice in a crowded place. Nowadays, American airports have become a catwalk for what our society has become. I got a text from a friend returning from a long trip to Asia. It stated, simply, “In Denver. Americans are fat.”

My recent trip abroad didn’t cite to me any improvement whatsoever. I landed on a hop to Denver and was greeted by an alarming scene. The entire airports attention seemed diverted to TV screens placed around the airport. My first thoughts were of 9/11. We’d been attacked again or, perhaps, were at war somewhere else. Certainly something major must be happening. The answer, however, shed a bit of light on our obesity problem. These people were focused on the “breaking news” over steroids in baseball.

First off, as an athlete, steroids have been around for 40 years and pretty much readily available. 30 years ago, on the trip to Europe, I knew athletes taking steroids in high school. It may be news to the general public, or our President, but this is not breaking news to athletes. And it’s not important news, or shouldn’t be, to anyone. But it is important in an allegorical sense as it perfectly identifies how we’ve become fat. We’ve become a country that lives vicariously instead of doing things ourselves. Secondly, even though we realize that the media manipulates us, we allow them to do so without a simple squawk. Thirdly, we’ve lost focus on issues that really matter to us.

Taking the third part last, another news story on the day everyone’s world was rocked because “The Rocket” may have been a cheater, was that our country was solely responsible for holding up the world summit on climate change. Now here is a subject that affects each of us every single day. Yet all we seem to care about is whether or not Barry Bonds should have an asterisk next to his records.

All this apathy towards things that really matter allows our corporations to have their way with us. We’ll work longer hours, for less money, with no health care, and no vacation plan, for little retirement, just so long as the Yankees can win another pennant. During the time Roger Clemens has been pitching, we’ve seen the discrepancy between rich on poor in our country widen to the point that we’re, statistically, a third world nation. Our minimum wage has only raised a fraction and is current half of all other first world countries. Our president told a woman who spoke of working three jobs in order to just feed her kids that her situation was “uniquely American”. We’re grown too tired, too busy, too broke, too distracted to even bother with the basic things that we know keep us healthy. When did this happen? It’s not the America I grew up in.

But the real problem isn’t George Bush, the media, or the Enron’s of the world. The problem is us. As a society, we just don’t care enough anymore about what really matters. We need to wake up and take back our lives.

And, literally, that’s all it will take. Sure, the corporate stranglehold and statistical disadvantages won’t change over night. But your health will. And no matter how broke or busy we are become no can still eat better food and find thirty minutes a day to exercise. It’s really as simple as watching less baseball.