Scotlands Favorite Son - Rabbie Burns

In the theme of Scottish things here on the blog, This Friday (Jan 25th) is the traditional Burns Night Supper to celebrate the life and work of one of Scotlands most famous poets, Robert Burns.

You might know him best on New Years Eve, as he is the person who penned Auld Lang Syne.

The Husband and I are going to be heading to a local restaurant, FEAST, that is having a Burns Night special. Most cities and places will have something similar, so I highly suggest that if you can, find a Burns Night supper in your area and attend!  Haggis is actually really quite yummy AND you get to wear your kilt! 

The traditional night includes lots of toasts, whiskey and the Piping of the Haggis followed by the slicing of the Haggis while reciting the Burns "Address to a Haggis".

Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,
Great chieftain o' the puddin-race!
Aboon them a' ye tak your place,
Painch, tripe, or thairm:
Weel are ye wordy o' a grace
As lang's my arm.

The groaning trencher there ye fill,
Your hurdies like a distant hill,
Your pin wad help to mend a mill
In time o' need,
While thro' your pores the dews distil
Like amber bead.

Then, horn for horn, they stretch an' strive:
Deil tak the hindmaist! on they drive,
Till a' their weel-swall'd kytes belyve,
Are bent like drums;
Then auld Guidman, maist like to rive,
"Bethankit" hums.
Is there that o're his French ragout
Or olio that wad staw a sow,
Or fricassee wad mak her spew
Wi' perfect scunner,
Looks down wi' sneering, scornfu' view
On sic a dinner?

Poor devil! see him ower his trash,
As feckless as a wither'd rash,
His spindle shank, a guid whip-lash,
His nieve a nit;
Thro' bloody flood or field to dash,
O how unfit!
But mark the Rustic, haggis fed,
The trembling earth resounds his tread.
Clap in his wallie nieve a blade,
He'll mak it whistle;
An' legs an' arms, an' heads will sned,
Like taps o' thristle.

Ye Pow'rs wha mak mankind your care,
And dish them out their bill o' fare,
Auld Scotland wants nae skinkin ware
That jaups in luggies;
But, if ye wish her gratefu' prayer,
Gie her a haggis!

Starting Lifting after Surgery

HELLO out there. Friendly Neighborhood Tammy posting after a long break.

Tuesday this week I had my first session back from hernia surgery (October last year). Mine was a hiatal hernia, not a lower abdominal hernia, but recovery from any intestinal surgery was significantly more difficult then I had imagined.  

3 x 5 reps of front squats – bar only (45lbs)

3 x 5 reps of bench press – 65lbs

Mildly pathetic, but you have to start back somewhere.

I’ve also been focusing on weight loss for the last 5 months. Now that I’m 40+lbs down since I last was lifting, my body is moving very differently.  chiefly, I’m weak as a newborn foal, and about as wobbly.  I’m actually a little worried that I’m going to have trouble with my events in the highland games now that everything is so much smaller.   Not a bad problem to have, but, worrisome.

I had talked about goal-setting with Brittney, but since life has seriously been getting in the way of enjoyment for the last 8 months, and currently no break on the horizon (we are selling our house and will have to move this year), I don’t have much energy left for any serious commitments to a training schedule that involves "regular like" practicing of my throwing.

Such is life. 

I have most of the basics down. My technique is often poor, ham-handed, and more BF&I (brute force and ignorance) than finesse, but I manage to get through, and damn it, I have a good time doing it.  So my goals this year are pretty basic:

1. Lift weights twice a week
2. Get on my bike three times a week
3. Walk the dog and enjoy what bright spots I can between working, cleaning, and (fingers crossed) packing and moving. Most of those bright spots will be weekends in the wilds of Texas on a large flat grassy spaces, with the  enjoyable people of the Highland Games, and their spouses, friends, and pets.

With that said, I’m currently printing off my first entry of the year – North Texas Kickoff Games.  Feb 23^rd in Fort Worth, TX at the excellent Zoo fields.  A fantastic day and I can’t wait to go out and give this new/old/repaired body a run around, visit with the great people of the games, and who knows, maybe even get a sheaf PR.

I Tried The Kool-Aid

To say that I am hesitant to write about my latest “gym” experience on this particular site is a wild understatement, but it happened, so here it is. As part of my holiday gifts and festivities I ended up with a short term membership to a local CrossFit. Being an open minded kid, I thought, it can’t be as bad as the press it gets from the strength community, so I will give it a shot.

After a few classes I can say I get the appeal to the masses. The attitude is one of acceptance, and as positive as a muppet covered in rainbows. The class times work with my schedule most days. The format is simple enough to
follow, and instructors/trainers are thick on the ground to help with any questions. This particular location offers oly lifting twice a week, and the instructor has some cred. (Caleb Ward) One of the other trainers has done voice work as both Batman and Superman, lemme say that can be a bit of a laugh during workouts. The folks that attend are friendly, welcoming and helpful, for the majority. We all know every gym has a fair share of jerks, but they are the exception not the rule.

Like all workouts, you get out of it what you put into it. Trust me when I say, I get a sweat going and am fully winded by the end of the sessions. The drawback to that is simply that the sessions are too short for me to feel like I have done a full workout.

With all that in mind, why won’t I be sticking around for all the kipping and WODs I can stand? The limitations of the facility and the workouts. I need more lifting time in a week than they offer to make my goals this season.
Not to mention the cost, 250 a month at this box, and that is without one-on-one training or the oly classes. It is Resolutionist Season, and they place is
packed, so learning names and faces is tough on the staff, I get it. However, after a few weeks I am DONE explaining to these folks that “No, as a matter of fact, that isn’t too heavy for me to start with.” There isn’t a slam ball in the facility that is too heavy for me to get through the whole WOD, so hush darling, mama is working here.

Would I do it again? You bet, it was fun! I always left with a smile on my face.

Would I let it be the only method I used to get to my particular goals? Not a chance.

Will I steal whole-sale some of the WODs and use them as warm-ups or replacement cardio? Regularly.

Would I recommend it to others? Depends on their end goals.

Humble Pie... tasty!

Humble pie, two servings, one fork, please! While the deload was full of lessons, it seems my education has just begun. Thank goodness for patient coaches and loud music.

This week the strength training begins in earnest. In an effort to get it kicked off right, I took the opportunity to indulge my curiosity about the power factor. For the few folks that don't know what this little gizmo is, it is a tool to measure the speed at which you move the implement. The trick is to move it at a meter per second. This may not sound particularly fast, until you try it. Gave this a go on pulls and pushes and discovered numerous flaws, both with my perceptions and my lifting form. Getting those corrected was serving one of humble pie. Thanks Duncan! Not sure if it was generosity or his sadistic side that prompted Duncs to loan me this toy until I get the feel of proper speed, but it is set up in the garage awaiting tonight's lifts. Weee!

The whip cream on that particular serving of humble pie: attempting to learn to do pull-ups. Having never done a single dead-hang pull-up in my life, this was more than a touch hilarious. (yet another exercise that is not aided by my laughing at my failures) Still haven't managed it, hooray for being bottom heavy, but now have the tools I need to get there. Bonus: lots of my pulling has been done with my back of late, and it shows.

Second serving of tasty humility came last night when the Doctore prescribed some large sets to max for squats. To say this is below expectations would be a WILD (like lions on the savannah, wild) understatement. I am ganna call this fuel for the fire and just get down to it from here on out. The amount of clanging, banging and swearing did prompt a minor rearrangement of gear in the gym, so future sessions should be a bit more down to business and less tripping over my own feet. Time to meet the coach's goals and mine.

The carmel drizzle on this piece of mortification munchies: an hour of barre work and partner stretching at the dance studio, followed by thirty minutes of floor work (leaps, jumps, turns, spins, tucks ...) Evil dance instructor remains the Queen of all things Surprisingly and Subtly Painful. Today I am singing her praises, as I am not presently a single block of ache.

Much to be done before next season.

Gorillas!

With all the kindness of a typical 400lb gorilla, several of my training partners informed me that I needed a break. It may have been implied that if I didn't take one they might just have to give me one, though the choice was mine on which arm. Thus, there was a deload. That particular word remains something of a mystery to me, since it seems to imply something different to everyone. My take? A pause in all training for a brief period.

Day to day I changed my mind on how I felt about it. Started my "Deload" on Saturday the 17th. It was odd trying to find out what to do with all my time, until my body decided for me. Sleep was the answer, lots of sleep and right now, if you please. Falling asleep at the merest mention of a soft surface was a new experience that lasted for the first 3-4 days. Between sleep and naps (one particularly memorable unplanned nap in the tub) I was clocking about 10-11 hours of sleep a day.  Clearly the gorillas had been right, and I needed some rest.

What else was I to do with all this spare time once the narcolepsy passed? Oh, let's see if I still like trashy food. Pizza? Nope. Enchiladas? Nope. Queso? Nope. Frou-frou coffee? Nope. Found myself longing for salad and fish, perhaps a grapefruit. Huh, odd, you mean to say that my brain has been lying to me all this time telling me how much I miss this trashy stuff, but now it tastes awful, or worse bland?  Sheesh, the gorillas were right again!

Follow that up with a Thanksgiving full of family, friends, feasting and folderol.  By the weekend I was chomping at the bit for something to do, so decided to try a few lifts with some of the kids from Full Throttle who were prepping for a strong man. Having not gone heavy in the gym since the summer off season, I was sure this would be more of a laughable hang out session than a true work session.  A sudden onset of giggles while under the yoke was the only laughable situation all day. As it turns out that I matched my PRs in a few lifts for reps, and still rode my bike home. You guessed it, gorillas 3, short-stack 0.

Lesson learned! No chest thumping necessary, my gorillas, deloads will become a regular part of the program. It seems that all-go-no-quit made for a very cranky and mostly useless me. This break offered me the clarity and rest to reset some goals and expectations, and start afresh. Now, to go get my calluses back!

 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             

 

Austin, there is no place like home...

 If I clicked my ruby slippers (or cleats) three times and hopefully whispered the phrase, there is no place like home, the winds of Oz would send me right back to central Texas. Growing up just down the highway from Austin, this festival always feels a bit like going home again, and not just because it is the most likely event for my family to attend. The music, the people and the over all feel of Austin Celtic Festival reminds me of all the small town festivals attended in my youth.

http://www.austincelticfestival.com/

This year the fest expanded to include a few other Celtic athletic events, Gaelic Football and Hurling, in addition to Highland Games and dance. Who in their great and powerful wisdom decided that more flying monkeys were needed for this show, I don't know, but I certainly approve. It was nice to get a quick chance to support the other styles of athletics out there.

This show offers plenty of vendors and historical displays, complete with a viking camp, or as I like to call it, Munchkin Land. Food is second to none with more than a dozen different shops to chose from. Guinness, Strongbow, Fireman's 4, Smithwick's, Shakespeare Stout and at least a handful of others can be found on tap at the two large bar areas. Don't miss out on the kettle corn and the fresh squeezed lemonade!

The highland games field is fairly close to the main music stage, so we are provided with an all day ebb and flow of music. The true highlight is when the Wizard behind the curtain of this show, Mike Baab, picks up a mic and starts riffing on all the throwers.

Saturday saw 27 throwers on the field, Open Class, Women's Class and Masters. Sunday would see the same setup with different faces. With so many throwers and limited space, it is only a six event day; weights, stones, cabers and wob. All six of the women that threw on Saturday had a strong showing, from our fresh faced newbie Blare to the champ of the day Liv. Spencer Tyler laid out a personal best with LWFD at something along the lines of 89 feet. Baab always has a herd of newbies, and they bring a lot of enthusiasm to the game.

Yours truly had a fair-to-middling game throwing right about par. The highlight of the day was getting to wrangle with a 17 foot 90lb caber. Qualifier moved me on to the women's caber, which then moved me onto this gnarly beast. A springy cedar caber that had a wicked roll, first attempt ended up in a bail, second attempt ended up in about a 20 degree throw off just four fingers, and the final attempt was a nice easy pick with only a final 60 degree. *sigh* I will face off against it again this weekend in Salado!

The Story of The Shorts!

"What are you wearing under your kilt?”
This is usually when I flash some thigh to the crowd and display my ruffled undershorts. Cue laughter.

Rumba butt bloomers are not part of the typical gamer's uniform, and they generate a lot of questions at most Celtic festivals. Here is the story
behind my "signature short".

I found highland games via the Ren Faire where I was a performer as part of the cast. Think of it as one of the guys dressed as Mickey or the girls that play the Princesses at Disney, we are there as part of the scenery to make folks interact and laugh. We did a demo show twice a day of the highland games, in all our ren faire garb. The theatre geek is strong with this one, no doubt. Never one to miss the chance to accessorize, I snagged a pair of "petty pants" for my first games. During that game I fell more than once, being made of grace as I am. My comment "If you are ganna flash your ass at the crowd all day, might as well make sure it looks good."


These days I don't fall down much, but I do work the crowd. Ruffles and lace are a fast way to snag any little girls attention, it shows a softer side to the
games. Dressing the part and playing to the crowd is part of the gig. One must always remember, we throw rocks and sticks for fun, never take it too seriously.