more than one way to

A little while back, I plugged CrossFit’s Workout-of-the-Day as the best approach I’d found for high-level athletic training. I still think it is. And I’m even more impressed that they put up their WotD for free. So, to support them, I recently subscribed to their monthly journal, which talks through some of the theoretical underpinnings of their approach.

The latest issue, which I received yesterday, is all about gymnastics, about how great gymnastics movements are for developing general fitness. And, in the journal, they suggest that CrossFitters add a gymnastics stunt to their warm-ups, to learn them one at a time. Looking over their list for one to add in, I noticed they included ‘skin the cat’, which I remember hating, hating, hating when I last did gymnastics, at seven or eight years old. So, naturally, ‘skin the cat’ was the first one I tried.

For those who’ve never seen it, skinning the cat looks like this. Basically, you start in a regular pullup position, lift yourself into an inverted pullup position (where your legs are pointed up at the ceiling – the first frame in the photo), then keep rotating through. If your shoulders are flexible enough, you can roll all the way forward to an eagle grip (the last frame in the photo); if your shoulders are strong enough, you can then reverse the movement from that eagle grip position and flip back through the motion in the opposite direction to end up in a regular pullup again.

And, in short: Holy crap, I can totally do it! I can do it repeatedly! I could totally kick seven-year old me’s ass!

terrorized

In a letter to his wife, a Civil War soldier described war as 90 percent boredom and 10 percent sheer terror.

Making movies seems to follow that same mix; a lot of ‘hurry up and wait’, interspersed with brief stretches of ulcer-inducing frenetic action.

I’m starting to realize, though, that I greatly prefer the sheer terror part. So, really, if starting a distribution company while juggling a slew of films at different stages all at once pushes the sheer terror part to, say, 40 percent, though I should probably consequently be spending my days lying curled in the fetal position in the corner, sobbing softly from the stress of it all, instead, perversely enough, I’m thrilled.

getting it out of the way

Since, if I don’t write something about it, I’m going to get about fifty emails asking:

The second date was even better than the first.

[Further details once I figure out what to say that won’t come across like a thirteen-year old girl’s gushing IM’s to her friends.]