Robert Lang's TED Talk. Excellent. Also on TED, Bruno Bowden folds while Rufus Cappadocia plays (actually, Rufus upstages the folding, I'll have to hunt down his CD).
NSCA reports on an interesting study suggesting you can greatly reduce ankle sprain risk with stability pad training (PDF), especially if you're in the high risk groups (overweight, and/or previous sprains).
FitnessFixation has a good, forthright post up, Why You May Never Have a Six-Pack. But as much as I enjoyed the post, and as much as I think genetics play a role, I do feel genetics can, in many cases, be overcome. There's the Larry Bird argument, of course (he never seemed to me overburdened with tremendously athletic genes, although he was tall). And it's true that no matter how much I train my arms, and how hard I flap, I'll never be able to fly like a bird. But I don't think having the body that you want quite falls into the same category as the true immutables.
Or, to quote the greatest animated movie ever, The Iron Giant, "you are who you choose to be. Choose."
(That said, I wouldn't obsess over the six-pack quest, and if thinking it's impossible helps you not obsess, go right ahead and think that. And FF might be right, I certainly haven't studied this stuff.)
This is something I've touched on in a few other posts, but I thought it was worth calling out on it's own.
It feels like I've often heard sentiments like "do it for 3 weeks and it will get easier" or "six weeks is the magic number, and after that it's a habit."
Hogwash.
I have an exercise habit now, but looking back I think it took me roughly TWO YEARS to cultivate. Two years of forcing myself to do it. Sure, it got gradually easier over time, but there were many days, weeks, even months where it took just as much effort to force myself into the gym as it did in the first few weeks. As for diet, I'm over three months into this "no sugar" thing, and I'm certain the bulk of the journey is still ahead of me. Again, the Leptin stuff is interesting). Plus, if you plotted me on The Big Bell Curve of American Fitness when I started all this a few years ago, I was already in pretty good shape! I was an athlete turned weekend warrior striving to reclaim my dormant (but not lost) athleticism. And it was still damn hard to form the habits. Imagine if I spent my first 30 years on the couch instead?
Anyway, I'm sure the intentions behind the whole "it'll get easier in a few weeks" claims are good; you want to encourage people by giving them a light at the end of the tunnel. But what happens in a few weeks, when it's still bloody hard? Discouragement, backsliding, plan abandonment. I say, tell 'em it's going to take years of hard work, and then maybe, if you're lucky, it'll be a habit. If nothing else, it's the truth.
Another great issue of The Huddle is up, this one on footwork. Here's a basic thing from Chris Talarico's entry that struck me:
As for individual footwork "moves," one that can help make cuts sharper is planting off your inside foot instead of your outside foot (or a cross-over step). For example, say you're setting up a cut to the left by heading to your right. When you're ready to change direction, the typical move is to jab your right foot out to plant and push off to the left. Try this instead: place your last step with your left foot under your center of gravity, or more to the right of where it would land if you were running straight ahead. Rotate your hips hard to the left, and swing your right leg around to make your next step roughly 90 degrees from your original path. It will also help to get low and dip your left shoulder as you make the move. You should see that this will allow you to change direction quicker than with a jab step.
I can't believe this has never occurred to me. I've always been a "plant-and-push off the outside foot" guy. You'd think all those years of cleats blown on the outside seam would have been a tip-off.
Anyway, I had to take this idea for a test drive. I laced up my cleats, warmed up, and ran a three-cone drill my old way. Scored my usual pathetic time. Then I ran it the new way and took off a half-second. On my first try. While actually having to *think* about where to put my feet. Cool.
So I went back and read my old turning post, and rewatched the Jackie Battle combine YouTube video, replaying his three-cone bit over and over. Sure enough, his turns drive entirely off the inner foot. It really looks like his outer foot just taps down. I should have noticed that earlier.
I just noticed this really cool workout that I WON'T be doing anytime soon from the T-Nation Third World Workouts article:
Underwater rock runs
Our boats would be anchored about 100 yards off the beach, in around 18 feet of water. We generally used these as the markers, but the workout can be performed just as easily if you run parallel to a beach. You can also use the deep end of a pool. (Just check with the lifeguards first so you don't cause an incident.)
Each two-man team picks a large rock and races to the boat with it. The first man carries the rock while the second man swims above him on the surface. Then they switch. Once they reach the boat, a mooring line is dropped in the water and the rock must be carried up the line onto the deck of the boat. From here, knock out 50 pushups, throw the rock back into the water (check for swimmers first), and return it to the beach.
18 feet deep!? I think by the time I got down there I'd have to come right back up. I also get water up my nose no matter what I do, so I can't imagine this is the workout for me, but man it sounds like fun if you can swim. How the heck one climbs a mooring line while carrying a heavy rock though, I have no idea.
My wife found this browsing The Onion's back catalog (from last year, posted about a month after the tour concluded): Non-Doping Cyclists Finish Tour de France. Hysterical. I won't ruin it by posting any of the funny bits here, but wait until you get to quote that comes right AFTER this bit:
"It became most difficult for us on the 7th stage, which was almost 200 kilometers and the first stage through the mountains," Kvistik said while accepting the non-doping victor's 100-franc check from his stretcher.
On the serious side, today Mark Sisson reposted on his site his piece, Should We Allow Drugs in Sports? I linked to it before when it was hosted on Art De Vany's site, but it's worth the re-link. Whether you agree with the conclusions or not, it's a must-read. Very thought-provoking.
Cooking for Eggheads by Patricia Gadsby:
"Cooking eggs is really a question of temperature, not time," says This. To make the point, he switches on a small oven, sets the thermostat at 65°C, or 149°F, takes four eggs straight from the box, and unceremoniously places them inside. "I use an oven in the lab; it's easier. But if the oven in your kitchen is not accurate, cook eggs in plenty of water, using a good thermometer." About an hour later--timing isn't critical, and the eggs can stay in the oven for hours or even overnight--he retrieves the first egg and carefully shells it. "The 65-degree egg!" he announces. The egg is unlike any I've eaten. The white is as delicately set and smooth as custard, and the yolk is still orange and soft. It's not hard to see why l'oeuf à soixante-cinq degrés is becoming the rage with chefs in France. (Salmonella can't survive more than a few minutes at 60°C, or 140°F, so a 65-degree egg cooked for an hour should be quite safe.)
Next, This turns up the oven thermostat to 67°C, or 153°F, and after waiting a while for the eggs inside to reach that temperature--again, he's casual about the timing--he retrieves a second one: "The 67-degree egg!" At this temperature the yolk has just started thickening up--some of its proteins have coagulated, but the majority have not. "Look, you can mold it," he says, scooping out the yolk and manipulating the pliable orangey-yellow ball like fresh Play-Doh. He tries to mold a heart, then settles for a cube.
From DNA is not Destiny by Ethan Watters (emphasis added):
In recent years, epigenetics researchers have made great strides in understanding the many molecular sequences and patterns that determine which genes can be turned on and off. Their work has made it increasingly clear that for all the popular attention devoted to genome-sequencing projects, the epigenome is just as critical as DNA to the healthy development of organisms, humans included. Jirtle and Waterland's experiment was a benchmark demonstration that the epigenome is sensitive to cues from the environment. More and more, researchers are finding that an extra bit of a vitamin, a brief exposure to a toxin, even an added dose of mothering can tweak the epigenome--and thereby alter the software of our genes--in ways that affect an individual's body and brain for life.
The even greater surprise is the recent discovery that epigenetic signals from the environment can be passed on from one generation to the next, sometimes for several generations, without changing a single gene sequence. It's well established, of course, that environmental effects like radiation, which alter the genetic sequences in a sex cell's DNA, can leave a mark on subsequent generations. Likewise, it's known that the environment in a mother's womb can alter the development of a fetus. What's eye-opening is a growing body of evidence suggesting that the epigenetic changes wrought by one's diet, behavior, or surroundings can work their way into the germ line and echo far into the future. Put simply, and as bizarre as it may sound, what you eat or smoke today could affect the health and behavior of your great-grandchildren.
From The Olfactory Lives of Primates by Robert M. Sapolsky (Virginia Quarterly Review, not online):
For sensory systems, how many steps does it take to get from the eye, ear, or path of skin to that emotional limbic system. Roughly ten steps. Take vision. First there's a layer of neurons in the cortex that breaks the visual scene into dots, then a next layer turning the dots into lines, then collections of lines, on and on. Finally, an Ice Age later, by a neuron's temporal standard, visual information trickles to the limbic system, and you activate an emotional response appropriate to seeing the face of someone intent on, say, seducing you or ethnically cleansing you. All of the sensory systems, that is, except olfaction. How many steps from smelling something to the limbic system? Just one.
See also: NY Times article on smell.