Another Smash HIIT!

I didn’t eat particularly well over the weekend.  And due to a few family and work interruptions, my workouts last week weren’t anything to write home about.  So on Monday, I was angry.  And to paraphrase a famous green dude with big muscles, “you wouldn’t want to see me (workout) when I’m angry.”

I normally do my chest and legs on Monday, but since I hadn’t really done any of my body parts sufficiently well, nor had I gotten much cardio in, I really wasn’t sure what I was going to work on.  As is often the case, though, I decided on my drive over to the gym.

HIIT! High Intensity Interval Training Read more of this post

Gas for the trip

Stop getting just "Gas for the Trip"

My wife goes to the gas station and, instead of filling up, will put $20 in her tank.  It drives me crazy.  After fifteen years together, it’s one of a very short list of items that she does that bugs me.  Her list for me, by the way, is much longer.  In fact, I think she’s hired a consultant to build a database around it.

But this affliction is very, very prevalent.  We all suffer from it in one way or another.  It affects us personally, as well as professionally; emotionally and even physically.  It may very well be one of the main barriers toward sustainable success in our lives.  Taking shortcuts, it should come to no surprise, is as destructive to growth as any other actions or thoughts we have. Read more of this post

One Shining Moment

We all have (at least) "One Shining Moment"

I decided to work out early on Monday so I could go home right after work.  My family and I had carpooled, so I couldn’t have gone to the gym later anyway. I had to pick them all up and get my butt home.  The NCAA National Championship game, a matchup of dog mascots (UConn’s Huskies and the Butler University Bulldogs), was on soon and I wanted to make sure I watched at least part of it.  This had been one of the craziest postseason’s the country had seen in a while.  Upsets and nail-biters had been the norm throughout, culminating in the first Final Four that had no number one or number two seeds.  (It was also only the third time no number one seeds had made the Final Four.)

In case you can’t tell, I love sports!  The competition.  The teamwork.  The hard work and determination.  Underdogs given no chance to win.  And dynasties with targets on their back as everyone tries to knock them off their throne.  All of it.  I love all of it. Read more of this post

127 Hours LATER

Early this week (or last week, depending on when you are reading this), Julie Manriquez, one of my esteemed guest posters, wrote a fantastic post, called One Hour or 127 Hours: BE in Every Moment.  Julie is a deep thinker, dedicated to daily work toward personal growth and enlightenment, as well as humble (she’s much more talented in so many areas than she’ll ever admit) service to others.  And like is often the case, her message was one that was needed.  Not only by me, but by many others, evidenced by the tremendous response and appreciation she received from other readers.

Her message was pretty simple.  Be in every moment.  Stop making excuses not to fully participate in life. Stop asking for a “hall pass” so you can skip the learning lesson that goes on every day of your life if you’ll just reach out to those who are more than happy to teach.  She went so far as to even dare us to be an active participant in our lives. And if you know me, I never saw a dare I didn’t like. Read more of this post

One Hour or 127 Hours: BE in Every Moment

In Bikram Yoga last Friday I practiced for ninety minutes in 111 degree heat and humidity that could rival the slums of Bombay at high noon. A young, fit Hispanic man practiced next to me and it took about 35 minutes before I noticed that he was positioning himself into the Hatha postures without a left hand and only a partial forearm. I thought about his obvious drive and perseverance as sweat soaked my yoga mat and towel. He didn’t alert the teacher to his disability, and he simply tackled tough two-handed postures like pada hastasana (hand to feet pose) and dhanurasana (floor bow) with a thin fabric band that he fashioned around his forearm and then his foot to secure holds worthy of the ancient discipline. Class was packed, warm rain outside, and I didn’t run into him on my way out as I’d hoped. I would have told him that he inspired me and humbled me and made me vow to never again curse the stubborn postures that haunted and challenged me. I wouldn’t have been able to do this without tears or without pure, embarrassing awe, so chances are I would never have spoken those words that day. I hope to be granted another chance and the courage to speak. Read more of this post