Given that I’ve been drinking the Kool-Aid for quite some time now, I’m approached by eagar souls looking to dive in to a world of fasting and feasting without boundaries.

But beware: This could be costly. You have to set yourself up with realistic expectations, and avoid common newbie mistakes.

Here are some mistakes you probably are making, followed by some suggestions for improvement.

1. You Still Eat Garbage

“I struggle with fat loss.” That’s the most common email I get by far.

“Tell me about your nutrition.” That’s always my reply.

“Well…it could be better.” That’s the reply I get back…83.4% (precise estimate) of the time.

Now, I eat like Goku and build muscle without getting fat with Chaos Nutrition principles, but the fact remains: nothing (chaos, intermittent fasting) makes up for crappy nutrition. You have to have a decent idea of what to eat.

You don’t know what to eat. Am I right? What’s good? What’s bad?

It’s legitimately tough to consistently over eat on wholesome foods, and it’s no coincidence that those that complain about body composition often reach for overly processed foods, like chips, candy, cake, and crackers. An even greater faux pas is drinking a ton of calories through sweetened beverages, like sweet teas, soda, and other sugary madness.

If you’re eating pancakes and drinking chocolate milk for breakfast, you have work to do.

The best beginner heuristic: focus on game and ground, each of which in their most unprocessed state. (This might sound “paleo,” but I prefer the least processed game and ground label (albeit a long tongue twister), as the “paleo” mindset tends to neglect the reality of evolutionary biology.)

• Game being just about any and all meats and fish.
• Ground being things that pop out of the ground, like vegetables.

That’s not to say you have to eliminate processed stuff completely, or that it will kill you instantly. Fun fact: I ate bread when I first beat skinny-fat syndrome. (And I eat a lot of white rice now.) But the further backwards you work in the chain of food processing, the more chance the food has to become FUBAR. It’s like the old game of telephone. Tell one person who tells the next who tells the next, and by the time the message comes full circle, it doesn’t resemble the original message in the slightest.

Transfer this over to the beverage realm. If you’re drinking anything other than water, unsweetened teas, and unsweetened coffee, you have no business complaining about not being able to lose fat. And you shouldn’t be seeking anything more advanced.

2. You Don’t Keep Busy

What happens when someone tells you to keep a secret? You want to run off and tell a zillion people, right? What do you think happens when you think about not eating food? You want to eat everything in sight.

As I mentioned in How to Start Intermittent Fasting:

The day of my first ever 24+ hour fast went like this: I slept in, golfed, lifted, and then went to batting practice. It was 7:00PM before I even thought about food. A cup of herbal tea went down the hatch, a few episodes of The Office entertained my brain, my head hit the pillow, and food never glitched my radar.

When you’re just diving into fasting, you can’t have idle hands. Schedule something where you simply won’t be around food. If it’s not there, you won’t be tempted. Also, don’t hang out with others eating. Avoid the break room and the free donuts on the table.

3. You Abuse Stimulants

Intermittent fasters usually drink coffee in place of breakfast. The usual recommendation is to down a cup or two, as it helps fight hunger (and is also said to increase fat metabolism).

In other words, it’s not uncommon to turn the first part of the day into a caffeinated euphoria. A few cups of coffee are fine, but don’t get so hooked onto coffee that it becomes a food in itself. Personally, I think drinking coffee after 12:00PM  is a bad idea for just about everyone. That’s just me though.

Coffee is common enough in the “real world” where people eat garbage, so don’t feel bad if you enjoy the sweet elixir on a regular basis. But don’t abuse it.

4. You Start Too Ambitious

Right now, I eat one meal per day and abide by Chaos Nutrition principles. But it didn’t start like this. It took me a long time to be able to cope with hunger. To be honest, I don’t know if I would have ever gotten into intermittent fasting if I didn’t break my foot and have to survive without a morning meal.

Don’t be too hard on yourself at first, and don’t be too ambitious. Going from frequent eating (especially junk food) to one meal per day is a relatively extreme drop. In fact, I don’t really recommend one meal per day to anyone unless they only want to eat once per day. My progression took years:

• 6 meals per day – Summer 2006
• 4 meals per day – Summer 2010
• 3-4 meals, 2 snacks per day – Fall 2010
• 2-3 meals per day – Winter 2011 (broken foot)
• 2 meals per day – Fall 2011
• 2 meals per day, sometimes 1 meal per day – Winter 2011
• 1 meal per day – Late 2012

So this has been cultivating for years. And that’s how most of my knowledge blossoms: through years of trials, tribulations, and failures.

If you want to get started, I have two suggestions:

• Toy around with a Leangains inspired 16/8 scheme, breaking the fast at noon. In other words, “accidentally” set your alarm to intentionally wake up late. And then you can’t cook breakfast.
• Do one Brain Pilon inspired Eat Stop Eat 24 hour fast per week. It’s a tougher entry, being 24 hours  long (that’s 5PM one day to 5PM the next, for example, so you never really go an entire day without food), but it’s only once per week. In other words, “accidentally” set your alarm to be intentionally wake up late. And then “accidentally” forget to pack a lunch.

5. You’re Perpetually Afraid of Hunger

Hunger is a totally normal and natural part of life. Your muscles won’t waste away. You will not die from fasting for 16-20 hours. You body can survive extreme conditions. Some studies even show that going through stints without food can benefit health.

Short term deprivation doesn’t cause the body to break down muscle and go into “freak out” mode and gobble up muscle tissue. Long term deprivation on the other hand…

I’m more muscular than I’ve ever been in my life, and I only eat once per day. My performance hasn’t dropped one bit (not surprising considering the evidence from Ramadan athletes). I’ve even fasted post workout—foregoing the fabled post workout window—in the name of self experimentation, as mentioned in 7 Senzu Bean Recovery Methods (not that I’d recommend this).

In short, don’t be afraid of casual hunger.

6. You Think That More = Better

Intermittent fasting is cool…why not fast for 48 hours? 72 hours?

Sadly, as Brad Pilon talks about in Eat Stop Eat, most fasting benefits dwindle after 20ish hours.

Rules can change here depending on how big your last meal before a fast actually is, but suffice to say, more isn’t always better. If you find yourself extending fasting beyond 20 hours on a regular basis, you should reconsider your direction. There’s a fine line between fasting and starving.

7. You’re Not Embracing the Chaos

Intermittent fasting is silently predicated on negative feedback loops, as Ori Hofmekler talks about in his wonderful book, Maximum Muscle, Minimum Fat.

Negative feedback loops, for all intents and purposes, are chaos incarnate. By making nutrient intake less predictable, you make nutrient intake more powerful.

In other words, part of its effectiveness comes from short term deprivation. For best results, you have to learn how to embrace this.

How?

Simply by understanding that short term deprivation can be a very good thing…a very powerful thing — just like training. Fasting is a stress that the body must cope with.

8. You’re Obsessing Over the Clock

Even more than the clock: embrace a relaxed lifestyle. People get so strung up on things. One of the most popular articles on my site, 9 Things You Should Know Before Intermittent Fasting, depicts the way most people go about intermittent fasting.

They obsess over the clock and think that one minute is going to ruin the totality of their progress.

What’s totally ironic about this: the majority of intermittent fasters hark on the free lifestyle it affords, especially after jumping from the six-meal-per-day ship. Yet they are completely ruled by the clock via fasting windows.

I generally eat once meal most days. This is my “dinner.” Sometimes it comes at 3PM. Other times 8PM. I don’t worry. I eat when I’m ready to eat, and I eat when the time is most convenient. If I’m extremely hungry and it’s not dinner time, I’ll munch on raw vegetables. No stress. No hassle. All freedom. (If I’m in New York, this “dinner” might include a waffle ice cream sundae, or donut ice cream sandwich at 4AM…followed by feelings of euphoria and debauchery.)

9. You’re Focusing on the Sum of the Parts

If there’s one concept I’d wish most people would respect more, it’d be that the whole is greater than the sum of the parts in a complex dynamic system.

No matter how much you try to understand each individual piece, you’ll never understand how those pieces ultimately work when they’re all intertwined.

A lot of people want to focus on the pieces. They want to know whether one tablespoon of cream in their coffee is going to ruin their life. They want to know if 16/8 is going to be better than 16.1/7.9.

Yet, more often than not, there’s always something more pertinent to worry about. A bit of heavy cream in your coffee is the last thing I’d worry about.

• What about your food selection?
• What about your training?
• Are you eating the right amount for your goals?
• Are you getting enough protein?
• Enough veggies?
• Enough fats?

Here’s the sum of intermittent fasting: spend part of your day in an underfed/unfed state, then spend a small part of your day in a fed state. There’s two pieces to this, each of which depends on you.

• The level of your “fed” state, which depends on your goals. More fed = more muscle. Less fed = less fat.
• The frequency in which you decide to fast: Daily. Weekly. Whatever.

That’s the sum. Do what you will with the parts. Just know that the more trivial your parts, the less  they probably matter.

It’s inevitable. Things seem perfect. You’re making huge progress. You’re getting stronger, building muscle, losing fat, or doing whatever it is you want to do…like a champion.

“I can just do this forever!”

But then “it” hits.

And when “it” hits, “it” hits hard. You blink a few times, just to make sure the world isn’t ending.

You stalled. You hit the dreaded plateau. All of that progress…all of that “forever” talk…gone…all gone.

The truth?

Things will never be the same. What worked so well in the past will never work quite so well again in the future.

Here’s what you need to know so you don’t repeatedly bash your head against the wall trying to relive your glory days.

Two facts about chaos you need to know

First fact: when you first start, just about anything works.

Second fact: when “just about anything” stops working, “just about anything” will never work as good as it did when “just about anything” worked, and if you try to make “just about anything” rework, you’re ignoring biology. Thank chaos.

Chaos—a certain level of unpredictability—has recently captivated my heart. I’m so in love with chaos that I named my nutrition resources—The Chaos Bulk and Fractal Fat Loss—after chaotic concepts when I realized that, realistically, I was doing nothing more than purposely making nutrition unpredictable. (Something which has led to amazing results.)

Sadly, chaos (or any other advanced biological concept, for that matter) isn’t something most “trainers” know about. I went to school for “fitness” for a total of 5.5 years, coming out with a Masters degree, and we never touched chaos. But, given the chance, chaos could single handedly explain 99% of the “problems” people have in the world of physical transformation and performance.

Let’s give it that chance.

Why your science is wrong

The science you know best lives under a linear umbrella. For brevity’s sake, let’s just say linear means predictable. Think back to algebra class and plotting things on graphs. The equation ( y = mx + b ) allows you to predict where you’ll end up on a graph given any one set of values.

This is all fine and dandy for simple systems. Scientists have long been using these linear methods to study, analyze, and predict performance, behavior, psychology, physiology, and every other element of the human condition.

Too bad humans aren’t simple systems. We don’t follow linear rules. (This puts an asterisk on most “fitness” research, but I’ll save that tangent for another day.) We’re a complex system. And the more complex a system gets, the less linear (predictable) it becomes.

Less predictable doesn’t jive well in the “fitness” world. I touched on this in my post on antifragility, but we use a lot of linear-esque ideas to predict what we need.

We use calorie calculators. Plug in your height, weight, and (perhaps, but not likely) body fat percentage (an estimation that is most certainly wrong), and out pops the magical number of calories needed to sustain your body weight. This is essentially saying that two people of the same height, weight, and body fat will have identical metabolic rates, regardless of job, race, socioeconomic status, means, etc.

But we can reroute to the antifragile post again here, and how Dr. Sapolsky mentioned grand master chess players churning through an absurd amount of calories doing nothing more than sitting in a chair and thinking about whether or not to move a pawn two inches forward.

Examples of using linear logic to understand complex human behavior are aplenty. Just about everything we do is based on the simple idea that our body is going to function identical on a daily basis.

This is a problem.

Why you’ll never be the same again

Beginners often see linear gains, be it losing a certain amount of weight regularly, or gaining a certain amount of strength regularly. Starting Strength, one of the most popular basic barbell programs, is all about adding a predictable amount of weight to the bar every session.

This works very well.

Until it doesn’t.

At some point, predictable linear increases stop. Most would call this a stall.

This happens with fat loss too. Things seem perfect, and then you just stop progressing. Nothing changed on the exterior. You’re still doing what brought you success in the past. But you have nothing to show for it.

The answer as to why this happens is, of course, a function of chaos. We’re linear…to a point. Once you cross the linear barrier, things will never be the same.

You need to understand this analogy

We’re going into analogy mode, so hold your pants up. The classic analogy for understanding a chaotic system appears in James Gleick’s book, Chaos: Making a New Science. (This book is about the birth of chaos. It’s worth the read, even though I admittedly couldn’t comprehend 94.6% of the book. But the comprehended 5.4% changed my life.)

Think of a water wheel (pictured above). It’s fully possible to have a predictable water wheel by closely controlling the amount and rate of water dripped into the buckets. But as the flow increases, the system becomes increasingly less linear. The speed of rotation:

• Depends on the amount of water in the bucket.
• Determines how much water fills each bucket.

When the wheel is rotating slowly, more water fills the buckets. More water in the buckets creates a faster rotation.

When the flow increases, the wheel rotates faster. The buckets exposed to the fast flow first fill more (because they were exposed when the rotation was slow) than the buckets at the end, as the buckets at the end are exposed to the flow at a much higher rotational speed (it increased because of how full the preceding buckets now are).

We’re left with some buckets filled more than others, and an all around systematic debacle. Make sure you reread this section until you understand it, as it’s critical to your future.

The important pieces of chaos

Beginners are “drippers.” They can’t create a heavy flow of water, so the system behaves rather linearly.

Let’s make a few more analogies to flesh this out a bit more:

• Water flow = training stressor. Naturally, the stronger you get, the more stress you impose upon yourself.
• Bucket capacity = your ability to recover. Bucket capacity is important because the smaller your water capacity, the faster the system has a potential to get out of control.

Bucket capacity is determined by genetics and environment. Some people naturally have bigger buckets for the adaptations they’re looking to improve. Someone with thick wrists will have greater potential for upper body strength than someone with thin wrists. (Bones are an important part of strength training, and are often neglected. Perhaps I should write about this soon. What say you?)

But genetics aren’t everything. If I wanted to make this more chaotic, I’d say that after genetics, bucket size depends on butterfly effects. Butterfly effects are minuscule happenings with potential catastrophic effects.

Are butterfly effects ruining your progress?

We usually ignore butterfly effects. For instance, the common prescription for prolonging strength gains is to eat everything in the house to ensure nutrition isn’t a limiting factor in recovery. But nutrition is only one butterfly effect. There’s stress, sleep, extra activity, natural personality inclination (someone more laid back will recover better than someone high strung), etc.

There are a lot of small things—things we often neglect—that go into sustaining drip-like progress. This is why some people do well on linear strength progressions, and why others don’t do quite-so-well. Some people linearly work up to 300+ pound squats. Others stall before hitting 200 pounds. It has nothing to do with the program, and everything to do with genetics and butterfly effects.

Every seemingly small event in your life factors into how well you recover, and then how well you can progress. Most of them are so subtle that they go unnoticed. Nutrition gets pegged because it’s an easily controllable target.

Drip progress doesn’t last forever. With every increase in ability, the flow becomes heavier. At some point, dripping becomes a splash. Splashes become streams.

Once the flow becomes large enough, you enter a world of chaos. As mentioned earlier:

When the flow increases, the wheel rotates faster. The buckets exposed to the fast flow first fill more (because they were exposed when the rotation was slow) than the buckets at the end, as the buckets at the end were exposed to the flow at a much higher rotational speed (from how full the preceding buckets are).

The wheel doesn’t spin at a steady speed. Buckets end up with varying levels of water.

You are no longer linear. Say hello to the dreaded stall.

Some like to “reset” (deload) when this happens. They empty the buckets, trying to get back to drip-like progress. Wiping the slate clean like this might help for a little bit, but you’ll always return to a state where the flow creates a chaotic system. That is, at least, provided you’re actually improving.

Must take-home lessons from chaos

So what do we do? Given that chaos ruins steady and predictable progress, do we just give up hope?

Quite the contrary. Understanding chaos sets us up for the best progress possible, and also uncovers realistic expectations.

1. Reap linear progress while you can, ideally with a method best suited to your bucket size. I love Starting Strength for those looking for general (and more powerliftingcentric) strength, but I don’t put my skinny-fat clients on Starting Strength. They still use linear progression. But not the linear progression within Starting Strength (and the lifts are different too). Why? They need something better suited to their genetically inherent bucket size.

2. Don’t forego predictable progress after linear progress. Linear progression (the way the word is used in the strength world), usually means making progress every training day. We all hit a point where this becomes impossible. But more often than not, we can still have predictable progress. Maybe progress once per week? Every other week?

In other words, now that your water flow is faster and stronger, you can adjust how frequently you “turn it on,” which can then better regulate the flow. (And thus, making it a bit more predictable.) This is the basis of the progression within the athletic-aesthetic resource I’m working on, which is basically the next step of progression up from The Skinny-Fat Solution.

3. Absolve expectations. This is going to totally dishearten you, but you need to hear it. I often recommend that most people past their linear prime (and not using performance enhancing drugs) should expect to gain around one pound of muscle per month.

Brad Pilon, who I respect a bunch, (and who recently wrote a blog post that is essentially Chaos Nutrition Ethos 101) put out a Facebook update not long ago, dismantling my recommended one pound gain per month.

Think about it. If you trained for 10 years, and gained a solid pound of muscle per month, you’d likely be a 250-300 pound brick house. At those initial numbers, that’s basically gaining 112 pounds of solid muscle. Alas, this just doesn’t happen…forever.

4. Embrace chaos. When your progress is more linear, your gains are more linear. That means, yes, probably can gain one pound of muscle per month (probably more, actually) when you’re a beginner. But over time, the gains become increasingly chaotic. Same with strength, fat loss, or anything else for that matter.

There comes a point when things aren’t going to be nice and easy. This is something you have to accept. Don’t bash your head into a wall and force linear behavior. Be proud that you aren’t behaving linearly anymore—it’s a sign that you’ve improved. The answer here is to play to the hands of chaos, not go against it.

5. Learn from the linear days. Counting calories is stupid. Gaining a predictable amount of weight in a certain time frame is stupid. Making your body behave linearly is stupid.

And yet these are all things that you’ll likely benefit from in the early linear days. This is a time when making things a bit more controlled and predictable works. It’s almost as if this more calculated time is a rite of passage for more laxity in the ever-increasing chaotic future.

6. Understand the genetic component to chaos and progress. I have a saying about nutrition: the worse your genetics are, the more chaotic your nutrition should be. This applies to training too. The worse your genetics are, the more chaos you’ll encounter in your training. Someone with a naturally big water bucket will be able to go a longer ways before things go haywire. And even then, they’ll be able to better control the flow.

This is why so many superstars get away with terrible programs. And it’s also why you probably won’t find the same fate.

7. Keep an eye on butterfly effects. The thing about butterfly effects is that they aren’t really noticeable, yet they can produce profound results. Are you an sympathetic nervous system idler? Won’t help you. This article I wrote for T-Nation, 12 Tips to Tune the Nervous System, may help in the butterfly effect realm.

The chaos conclusion

The chaotic days may seem dark and dreary, but floating in them myself, I can fully say that they are rather reinvigorating. Things become less immediate and less high stakes. You get to fully appreciate your body for the marvel that it is.

If you’re not quite at the chaos cliff, embrace your linear progress. There’s no reason not to. It’s the fastest way from A to B. But don’t freak out when things don’t come as easily. It means you’re getting better, and getting better is always a good thing.

Photo credit: chess, butterfly, on off

Shall we play a game?

Let’s.

Stand up, feet shoulder-width apart, and arms by your side. Dip down a bit, jump in the air, and spin 360 degrees before landing.

Hopefully you’ll stick the landing after rotating full circle. If you don’t, all the better. But remember how this feels.

We’ll come back to this. For now, let’s push forward.

Why box jumps are jokes

There’s a problem brewing. When I was a young trickster padawan, and I was introduced to strength training, I sought most of my movement answers in the barbell. I thought squatting until I cried blood was the way to somehow become a better trickster.

Looking back, especially after having “strength and conditioning” experience, I’ve come to see that most of the people in barbell land share a different view of athleticism than I do. This “strength and conditioning” world is a place where box jumps are seen as athletic. And thus, a lot of the great so-called athletic programs are a bunch of  barbell exercises with the inclusion of box jumps. 

Jumping on a stationary box.

Compare that to flinging your body in the air, spinning a few times, losing temporal awareness, forfeiting all faculties, and living to talk about it. (Or you can just break your foot…hey, I never said I was any good at these things.)

The sad truth is that many “strength” folk know little about movement. Anyone over 5” with legs is capable of a 20” box jump, even with only jumping 1” in the air as the height of the “box jump” is largely bent on being able to tuck your knees to your chest rapidly. Not so much jumping power in itself.

And back squats? While certainly a useful exercise, I think one-too-many people think they are the sole responsibility for athletic greatness. Back squats make movement more powerful, but they don’t do anything for learning complex-dynamic non-linear motor skills.

Even worse is the, “Do a dumbbell lunge with a side step and rotation to work in the transverse abductional supramittent plane.”  This stuff makes me wonder if these people have ever really moved in their life, as I’m sure any true mover will tell you that such methods won’t do much…other than make you look like you haven’t a clue about movement.

Movement, flow, self dominance—these things aren’t learned with pre-programmed faux-athletic motor tasks. Jumping on top of a 50” box is nice (kind of, but not really), but can you jump 10”, spin full circle, and stick the landing comfortably? I’d rather see the latter than the former.

Proof squats aren’t all that athletic…and twisting your Schwartz

A perfect example as to why box jumps or back squats don’t help you learn complex tasks takes us back to our initial game. At the start of this article, you jumped and spun 360 degrees. I didn’t specify a direction, so you likely spun to the side you’re most comfortable with.

Now I want you to jump and spin 360 degrees to the opposite side.

Feels different, doesn’t it? So different, in fact, that you probably didn’t make the full rotation…and landed rather uneasily.

That’s because no amount of non-specific work will ever be specific to a complex task. Writing print won’t make you a better cursive writer.

Saying squats increase athleticism is saying that squats will help you learn how to better jump and spin 360 to your non-dominant side. This is something I’m considering permanently calling Schwartz Twisting. Don’t twist your Schwarts, kids.

Don’t mash meathead with movement. Both have their purpose, but once you start doing one for the other, problems arise.

Don’t squat to become a better athlete. Squat to make your legs stronger, and then let strong legs do what they may to your athletic skills.

These ideas proliferate from our attempts to categorize the idea of “athleticism.” I can go on a long spiel about our faulty categorical minds (and intend to in the future), but I think Lynn Swann (a great athlete that took ballet) was able to see something most everyone else can’t: movement mastery isn’t meathead mastery.

Why gymnastics is the part of the answer

It’s only a matter of time before gymnastics takes over the world. If I ever open up a gym, it would be a combination of free weights and gymnastics equipment. There’d be a plyo floor, mats, a foam pit, rings, parallel bars, uneven pars, pommel horses, squat racks, barbells, dumbbells, and oh-so much more.

Perhaps we should take a page out of Georges St-Pierre’s playbook. His training is considered “unique,” which is a problem. It should be the norm.

Not a training day goes by when I don’t do some kind of acro-gymnastics, be it handstands, kip-ups, macaccos, or whathaveyou. (I wrote about this a bit in my post about unconventional athleticism.)

If you want to train like this, there’s hope for you yet.

How to combine athletics and aesthetics

This all isn’t to say back squats are no good. I love squats. I think everyone should do them. But they should be done for the right reasons. Remember, meathead isn’t movement.

One of the more frequent questions I get is how to merge barbell training, bodyweight training, and acrobatics into a program that also plays hand to creating an “X” physique.

This combination is what I’ve been tinkering with my entire life. Ever since being glued to the TV when watching Dragon Ball Z, I wanted to be a combination of muscle and movement.

It’s taken me a while to get to where I am, largely because of this tinkering. The only reason I have a vendetta against meathead methods for movement mastery is because I’ve tried to glue the two together so many times, and each time has ended in failure.

If you’ve tried this for yourself, I’m sure you know what I’m talking about. In fact, you’ve probably done a bunch of things to combine the two without actually doing much of anything for movement. If you’re wondering whether squats or deadlifts are going to bring you success, you’ve already lost.

Alas, it’s about time that I create my ethos on combining meathead and movement methods. None of those “athletic training” shenanigans that really aren’t all that athletic. You know what I’m talking about: “Get this ripped athletic bod” garbage.

I’m talking about how to introduce acrobatics and body weight training into a routine, how movement really works, and how to continue strength training for the good of  an “X” physiqued mankind. In other words, if you just want an athletic body, and not the movement skills, go home. We don’t want you here.

Basically, if you want to look and perform like Georges St-Pierre, this is for you. Outside of forming energy balls and flying, you’re basically becoming a Saiyan with this kind of training.

Until then, I ask you a question:

Is your Schwartz Twisted?

If so, I invite you to ask me anything about meathead movement, be it about specific bodyweight skills, how to get started with tricking, how to jump higher, anything you can think of.

Just drop them in the comments.

You know I always respond.

I was given one rule: make it aesthetic. Knowing Frank, I wasn’t surprised. And since Frank was kind enough to vomit +3000 words into this interview twice (funny story: we went back and forth through Facebook, and then Frank’s account got deleted for many violations [rather unsurprising], which deleted the entire first interview), I’ve made the following accommodations:

• I busted out my WACOM tablet and sketched Frank for the header to this post. (Not that this sketch would indicate, but I was one inch away from going to school for art. It’s been years since I’ve done anything remotely artistic though, so cut me some slack.)
• I eliminated my questions from the interview, forcing you to create your own interpretation of the original question asked.
• I bolded the first gleaming thought of Frank’s replies.

If you couldn’t tell, the Frank I’m referring to is none other than Frank Yang. If you know of him, sit back and enjoy. If you don’t know of him, prepare yourself…on many levels.

Why Frank Yang?

I first found out about Frank when he released his rather famous (shall I say, infamous?) training mixtape on YouTube. The video drew quite a buzz. Many bashed Frank’s technique and antics. Others loved his eccentric personality. One thing was for sure: he was pretty damn strong for his size, and pretty damn explosive too.

Frank continues churning out regular videos on his YouTube page, often mixing his thoughts on training, psychology, philosophy, biology, and aesthetics, all while showcasing his subversive shenanigans.

Although I’m personally more reserved (I wouldn’t deadlift naked, have to apologize on national television for clowning a monk, or drink a gallon of milk  and eat twenty bananas while doing suicides), I’ve always shared common ground with Frank as we both — as Frank puts it — are all about exploring the infinite possibilities of consciousness/brain/mind-body connection. (Hence lucid dreaming.)

Frank Yang’s Thoughts

All those different activities that I engage in — music, weightlifting, bodybuilding, philosophy, trolling, art, film making — are all just different manifestations of a very simple idea: to take the mind to extreme places and explore what it means to be human by playing with the one organ that makes us who and what we are.

The whole idea of “mindfucking” is that when your mind is blown away, it means that somebody or something gave a little push to your normal state of consciousness, shifting it to a different zone. I think these moments of epiphany, big or small, are the defining characteristics of what it means to be human. Because the brain is the most complex system in the known universe, and because ultimately it is the tool and weapon for our survival and the success of our species, much like the speed of cheetahs or the jumping ability of grasshoppers.

It is almost a human right to experiment with this organ and explore its endless possibilities. I think the desire to want to experience different modes of consciousness is as innate as the desire for love and sex. I mean even the feeling of love itself is simply a manifestation of very unique state of mind.

Athletes like Kobe Bryant and Muhammad Ali are the kings at doing this. To me, they are the ultimate mindfuckers: the way they visualize their performances beforehand, making plays or moves happen in their heads, bringing them into reality the way they envisioned, and the way they intrude their opponents and fan’s mental spaces by making them witness superhuman performances.

Their bodies are merely vehicles for their extreme states of minds. Think of a runner’s high, the way lifters psych themselves up and how they celebrate after they complete the lifts, or the mental focus of a sprinter before the blocks. They could all be said to be “in the zone.” And this “zone” is this extreme state of consciousness that I keep referring to. An artist experiences this, and so does an athlete.

Relative strength is EVERYTHING when it comes to vertical jump. Or should I say, 2 legged, standing vertical jump without steps or a running start, which by its strict definition, is the only movement that can be labeled a “vertical jump”. When you see basketball players running and jumping off of 2 feet, they aren’t performing a vertical jump. And usually 1 legged jumps don’t depend so much on relative strength and power inputs as the true 2 legged vertical jump.

Like being right or left brain dominated, people are usually divided into 1 legged jumpers or 2 legged jumpers, based on bone and muscular structures, and it’s very rare to see an athlete who can perform both because being good at one side usually means suppressing the other. In a nutshell, 1 legged jumpers are usually the “bouncy” and “springy” jumpers who rely more on reactive strength, elasticity, and genetics. 2 legged jumpers are more or less “power” jumpers who rely more on strength and power. When you see someone taking off with 1 feet after a good running start, it’s usually a very graceful movement.

Anthony’s note: I have also jumped 40″, and I’m a bilateral jumper. I jump highest with a coast into a bilateral jump, rather than unilateral. For whatever reason, this surprises people as they think jumping off of one leg would get you higher (likely because that’s what most NBA folk do…never mind that they are seven foot tall…

On the other hand, power jumpers usually rip the floor off at the take off because the power in and output are so immense. And because relative strength plays more of a role in 2 legged jumps, it is easier in theory to improve one’s standing vertical jump. The reason why relative strength is important is simple science: power = speed x strength, and the vertical jump is one of the purest expressions of power a human being can produce.

The speed part of the equation is harder to improve because it relies on reaction time and CNS efficiency (how fast your central nervous system fires and how many muscle fibers they can recruit), and such attributes are mostly determined by genetics. The strength part of the equation, however, is much easier to improve. Even not-so-quick and not-so-athletic humans can improve their strength by adding more weight onto the bar in the squat rack consistently and with the right training. So in theory, and perhaps potentially, relative strength is important because the stronger you are relative to your body weight, the higher you can jump and the faster you can run because your power output is higher.

A 150 pound person who can squat 400 pounds is definitely going to jump higher and sprint faster than a 300 pound person who can squat 400 pounds (insert my favorite car analogy by replacing your Corolla’s engine with a truck’s to see how much faster it would go from 0 – 60) given that they both worked on the correct technique. However, having strength is not the only story.

I have seen light weight powerlifters who can move a ton of weight, yet can’t jump for shit. Why is this? Their CNS isn’t efficient enough to command the muscles. They have the basic material to jump high and run fast (strength), yet they don’t have the neural efficiency and reactive ability to transfer and convert that strength quickly enough to turn it into power.

The 1RM squat or deadlift isn’t a power movement because it doesn’t really take a lot of speed to squeeze out all that strength in your body to lift up that weight. In a vertical jump, however, speed is a crucial part of the equation because jumping itself is a very quick movement. If you can’t “turn on,” “collect,” and “use” your strength during that 0.7 second that takes you to complete a jump, all that base strength is useless!

Relative strength is a must in a movement like a vertical jump. But it isn’t the only attribute one has to have in order to jump high, or sprint fast. So the best way to train the vertical jump is to take care of both the speed and the strength side of the equation.

To train your strength: lift heavy weights and try to become stronger by increasing your 1 RM in the squat and deadlift.

To train speed: focus on movements that train the nervous system to “fire” your muscles as quickly and as efficiently as it can by performing shock training.

Put the 2 together, and you have a big vertical jump.

My best lifts: 405 pound squat, 500 pound deadlift, and 300 pound bench press (all done at around 160-165 bodyweight). Vertical jump: 40 inches. Forty yard dash: 4.5 seconds.

Eric Cressey was a great coach. He made my vertical and strength go up with nothing but words of wisdom (he coached me online), although I did not perform Olympic lifts under his guidance. He felt that Olympic lifts were too technical to perfect, to get anything out of them with less than good form would be a waste of time.

Even though Olympic lifts CAN and DO increase explosiveness, and the fact that Olympic lifters are often very explosive, they are not the only lifts that can increase speed and vertical jumps. The two Olympic lifts – the clean and jerk and  the snatch are power movements that fall in the middle of the speed-strength continuum. Doing only those 2 lifts can get you some explosiveness, but they do not cover the extreme ends of this continuum.

The two exercises that I talked about earlier, the squat and the depth jump (shock training) are, however, the best and most extreme examples of the opposite ends of the speed-strength continuum. What I am trying to say is that squats and depth jumps are much easier to learn in terms of techniques, and getting stronger at the squat and getting more explosive/quicker at the depth jump will be enough to cover the entire spectrum of the speed-strength continuum to increase the power of the athlete.

I’m not saying that one shouldn’t do Olympic lifts at all. It might be very beneficial to throw in a few sets of power cleans in your routine. What I’m saying is that the time it takes to perfect these lifts can be spent on other things like hitting squat PRs and doing balls-to-wall deadlifts. In a nutshell, you don’t NEED the Olympic lifts to become explosive. If you want to throw in explosive lifts into your routine, I would recommend speed deadlifts and speed box squat with chains or bands.

Anthony’s note: If you’re looking for an incredibly long, mildly informative guide as to whether or not Olympic lifts should anchor your training program, I just happened to write one. It’s similar to Frank’s thoughts, so check it out here.

In terms of movements that don’t exactly mimic a vertical jump, or the fact that deceleration in certain lifts such as a speed deadlift are said to “slow you down”…I don’t really buy that idea.

No movement you perform at the gym is going to look or feel anything like what you do away from the gym, whether you are jumping, sprinting, or sparring. You are trying to build strength and muscles at the gym – tools that will have carry over to your practical movements on the field. This does not mean that you should literally “imitate” the particular movement that you are trying to improve.

I see guys doing half squats at the gym and when I ask them why they don’t go all the way down, their replies are always something along the lines of: “I’m a basketball player and I’m training for my vertical. You never go down that low when you jump or play ball anyway.”

That is a false mindset.

When you squat, you should always go down deep not because you are trying to mimic the jumping motion with the squat, but because deep squats build muscles that are important to a movement like the vertical jump. As long as you practice the movement itself (if you want to be good at sprinting, you gotta SPRINT; If you want to jump higher, you gotta practice JUMPING), the weight exercises themselves aren’t really going to have an effect on your movements outside of the gym. For instance, the walking lunge is one of the best exercise to do to increase the vertical jump, one that looks nothing like the vertical jump itself.

The squat: the king of all exercises. This one hits all the major muscle groups for sprinting and is a great way to train the nervous system to recruit muscle fibers when doing it heavy.

The deadlift: the difference between a deadlift and a squat can simply be the difference in where the weight is. In the squat it’s on your back, and in the deadlift its in your hands. So I find deadlift a crucial exercise in developing lower body strength, because it allows you to get stronger while taking the bar off of your back once in a while.

The bulgarian split squat: the BEST unilateral strength exercise and for me the most painful exercise ever! I always get the most sore after this exercise, and sometimes for days, especially in the arse. Which is a great feeling when you go to the toilet because you know those gluteus are getting hammered each time you perform them.

The glute ham raise: if you have a glut ham raise machine, use it after every leg work out. I used to do them under all variations – explosively, with bands, with weights, high reps to failure. Unlike the leg curls, where the hamstrings are worked out in isolation, the glute ham raise allows the hamstring to be activated and stimulated in synchrony with the glutes and low back in a continuous and functional movement.

The one legged squat: if the pull up is the exercise to test out your relative strength for the upper body, the 1 legged squat is the ultimate tester to see where your relative strength, conditioning, and flexibility levels are. Most so called “athletes” can’t even perform 5 strict reps of unassisted 1 legged squats.

Other than what I mention before about pushing the limits of the mind to experience altered state of consciousness, reductively speaking, from a biological standpoint, they are all just means to get laid! I outlined some of my thoughts on this subject in this article.

Whether you are trying to get stronger at the gym, to become a better basketball player, a better orator, physicist, painter, sculptor, musician, etc, at the end of the day your goal, consciously or subconsciously is to turn on women and convincing them that you more genetically fit than other male competitors. Since females, by their biological design, have only 1 precious egg a month vs the millions of sperms a male can produce on a daily basis, they are the more selective sex when it comes to courting. This explains why males are the more “accomplished” sex in the arts and sciences, and why not a lot of people care about female athletics.

Now, obviously not all of us literally think about pussy every time we lift or paint. What I’m talking about here is that as carriers of genes that have to find their way to the next host/generation via offspring at all costs, we designed, over millions of years of natural selection, to have bodies and brains that automatically find certain things pleasurable: sex, food, and of course, success and glory.

You could say that there really is no difference, for me, between playing a violin concert and getting an aesthetic physique. Mastering the arts is as much of an indication of good genes as having a great body.

While the men who fall under the category of “alphas” usually belong to athletic crowds, great artists and musicians, thinkers and writers should also be labeled alpha because having a good brain is equally important. Humans are, after all, a pretty weak species physically, and can really only rely on brain power to survive. With that said, it goes without saying that acquiring an aesthetic mind is equally important, if not more important than building an aesthetic body.

Making art and playing music have also helped me cultivate my imagination, a key factor in athletic performance.

I always tell people that if I my mom never made me play the violin when I was 5, I would never have a 40 inch vertical jump! Other than discipline and the perseverance, playing the violin taught me how to visualize movements down to their last details.

Having a good imagination is an important key to athletic success. The ability to visualize motor skills and physical actions clearly and distinctively in your mind is essential because when you actually perform and carry out these actions in reality, your neurons are already primed to do so. Kelly Baggett mentioned that most explosive athletes are right brain dominated…in other words they are good visualizers and imaginers who can hold clear images of what they wish to create or become in their minds. They have practiced their movements over and over again in their minds so that their neurons are already firing and connecting before the movements were actualized in reality.

There really is little difference between making sculptures and jumping. Both endeavors are creative in nature, as both are acts of transferring what you visualize in your mind into reality. The better you are at generating and manipulating these images in your head, the better your “products” in reality will turn out to be. In sculpture, the products are of course, the sculptures themselves. But in lifting and in jumping, the product is the body performing the movements primed by the mind.

I did coach a few of my friends over the years. They weren’t official my client, they were more like my training partners who weren’t as experienced or as strong as I was and needed my guidance. They also helped me out a great deal by challenging to surpass me at all times, and of course, loading my plates and putting my weights back. But over the years, I have seen many of my training buddies become stronger and stronger.

The most important thing I gave them is the importance of training “smart”. When I met most of them, none of them did any leg work other than quarter squatting on the smith machine. What I am proud to say now is that even though most of my training partners don’t train with me anymore, years later, no matter what their goals are, they are still squatting ass to grass year round!

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Want more of Frank? You can connect with him on his Facebook Page or YouTube Page.

All photo credit goes to Frank Yang.

Before we talk about building an “X” physique, sending salutation to stubborn body fat, and surmounting skinny-fat syndrome forever with my freshly released resource, The Skinny-Fat Solution, you need to know some things about me…things most people would keep secret if they were in my shoes…things most people would call scars and would most certainly be embarrassed of.

Early emotional scars

Pepperoni grease glided down my throat as I tore open a package of Pop-Tarts. My gaze was fixed beyond the full wall glass window pane and onto an open field of grass. Open grass fields are an opportunistic safe haven for tricksters. Much like an artist paints on canvas, backyard tricksters paint on fresh green grass fields with an array of flips, twists, and kicks. And it was a place I called home for four years.

Ah, yes. Four years ago. That was when two girls whispered back and forth a few desks ahead of me in Algebra class, peering scantily in my direction. It was one of the few times in my adolescent life that I mustered the stones to talk to a female. And the end result was likely why I chose to neglect female interaction prior.

“You have girl boobs.”

Music to my ears.

The last few crumbs of the deliciously processed carbohydrates rode down my esophagus like a surfer, likely using the pepperoni grease as a wave. But I was still hungry. The pizza (Penn State has good pizza, I recall) and Pop-Tarts didn’t cut it. My mind was telling me to buy another bag of Pop-Tarts. So was my stomach. But my eyes were focused on the green grass field.

My past—my life—was slowly fading in and out. I remembered the Algebra incident, the self confidence issues, the stretch marks. And just as I was going to get a second bag of Pop-Tarts, the realization materialized.

What the hell am I doing?

Moving into physical scars (stretch marks)

For years I struggled to cope with the mirror’s truth: my skinny-fat body. And I was shoving Pop-Tarts down my throat? It had been my dream to turn my skinny-fat body into something…better…ever since religiously watching Dragon Ball Z. The show shaped my desire to build an “X” physique—a body proportion that was opposite of mine.

Where I had string bean arms, a sunken upper chest, dilapidated deltoids, and cheerio sized wrists (consider the propensity to sew satchels of fat around the waistline “whipped topping”), Dragon Ball Z characters had broad shoulders that funneled into a smaller waist with no excess body fat.

My body belonged to a menopausal woman, not a strapping young lad. Ironically enough, I came to this conclusion as I was uncontrollably eating Hot Fries and chugging Mountain Dew Code Red.

(Geeky aside: For example, I was set on looking like Super Saiyan Broly, rather than Bio Broly. It’s all about proportion – one of the many things The Skinny-Fat Solution addresses with the “X” physique training program and upper chest guide. It’s totally rational to base your physique and existence on cartoon characters, by the way.)

This is all very important for two reasons:

First, I know what you’re going through. Unlike others in this field, I wasn’t born with a Mr. Miyagi family member that “taught me the ways” when I was five years old. And I didn’t learn how train during my “high school football days.”  (My high school days consisted of Dragon Ball Z, Runescape, Super Smash Brothers, Zelda, Star Wars, and other assorted video games and animes.) I’m not a physical wunderkind. I didn’t play any sports for my high school. While I have credentials, I’m proud not to spout them. I enjoyed working with NFL athletes, and I enjoy writing for magazines, but my garage is my gym, and my backyard is my “home field.”

A good friend of mine trains professional athletes. We joked about how relatively weak I am compared to a lot of hardcore strength folk. He mentioned taking steroids, which was undoubtedly followed by, “Scared money don’t make none.” I told him I didn’t know the first thing about steroids, really. Since he works with athletes, he has to know about them, else he loses credibility. (I worked in a college setting, not private setting, which eliminated the PED need-to-know.) But being “natural” and “normal” has always something I’ve been proud to hinge myself on.

Second, time wasted is time lost. That picture below? That’s my lower back and shoulder.

I started tricking in 2002ish. I was motivated enough to trick, but not so motivation to work on body composition. And in 2006, I was still skinny-fat. Still miserable. For four years I let my body get further “damaged.” I not only allowed stretch marks grow, but also facilitated their growth. They’re still there to this day. I don’t pay them mention. But they’re there.

Which brings me to The Skinny-Fat Solution.

The Down Low on The Skinny-Fat Solution

Contrary to popular belief, the Solution to skinny-fat syndrome isn’t just a program. It’s not just schlepping down a fancy table with exercises, sets, and reps and creating a PDF’ed training routine. I mean, it’s partly that. You need to train. But it’s more so embracing a journey. It’s about how skinny-fat syndrome affects your life — no one talks about the why of it all. Why is skinny-fat syndrome such a big deal?

• The mental issues of being out of proportion.
• The social issues of getting picked on (in my case, being told I had “girl boobs”).
• Being called “skinny” and “lanky,” but feeling puffy and fat. (This is honestly what ate at me the most.)

For me (and probably for you) fixing your physical self is a gateway to a better life. And this is something I want you to realize for yourself. People are surprised when I personally respond to their emails, but it’s the least I can do. I want to see you break free. (My email address is at the end of this post. Feel free to say hello.)

I want you to be smarter than everyone else out there. (Those that read my blog are 49.4% smarter than everyone else, recent research suggests, so we’re getting somewhere.) I don’t want you to fall for eight week solutions. I don’t want you to buy miracle pills. I want to see you succeed in the long term.

I’m not going to sit here and pretend like looking “hawt” is the only thing that matters in the world. Your friends and spouse will like you regardless of how you look. But this isn’t about them. This is about you. This is about how you feel about yourself.

I created The Skinny-Fat Solution specifically for skinny-fat sufferers; everything inside is tailored to those that live like I once did.

Don’t let others tell you what you should want

Here’s the thing: even after I dove into training, I was still skinny-fat askew. Since I’m a mesh of performance and physique, I neglected the physique gig because I let other people tell me what I should want. I neglected biceps curls. I squatted myself to death, even though I was on the verge of depression with chronic knee pain.

I was brainwashed into thinking training for aesthetics was vane and narcissistic — an idea spread by those that get up on stage to showcase physical strength. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that. The bottom line here is that it’s all personal. It’s all about breaking personal barriers, regardless of what you’re improving: strength, physique, performance, etc…)

What you want is unique to you — unique to the events that shaped your life. No one has lived your life, so don’t let anyone tell you what you should want. No one knows your emotional toils. If you want to look seriously well built, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

The Skinny-Fat Solution is the only thing out there made for a skinny-fat sufferer, by a skinny-fat sufferer. And it was designed specifically for conquering skinny-fat demons, be it physical scarring, emotional scarring, or otherwise. I share your scars. And I want you to either prevent them all together, or stop them from growing further.

Looking back, The Skinny-Fat Solution is what I would have handed myself oh-so long ago. Perhaps if it had existed, you wouldn’t been seeing “my scars” here today. Consider it your gain. And check out The Skinny-Fat Solution if this is all something you’re interested in. Regardless, I welcome you to my inbox to say hello. Send me praise, prose, or malice. Pull down your pants and drop a dookie if that’s your style.

anthony.mychal -at- gmail -dot- com

Just remember: every day you dance around your desired dream, you’re potentially creating scars. Now is your time to stop that from happening.

Every one that puts in hard training time get nicked and knacked. We don’t know our bounds of antifragility, and sometimes we fracture ourselves…if only a tiny bit. (Just hope you don’t fracture ferociously, and end up with a seemingly permanent neuroma that hinders even your most basic ability to walk…not that I have any experience with this. Someone save me. Please. )

Everyone needs a Senzu Bean every once in a while. Luckily, Senzu Beans are a totally real and viable solution. They’re mystical, effective, and…green. Word on the street is that they can keep you full for ten days (talk about intermittent fasting magic!). More importantly, Senzu Beans heal even the toughest of physical injuries.

So if you’e feeling beat down, go grab some Senzu Beans from your local Korin Tower. Word has it that they’re rather tough to find though.  So here are seven Senzu Bean recovery methods you can use instead.

1. Sleep…in

The no-brainer simple solution to recovery is sleep. And then more sleep. (Perhaps even more.) While sleep is important, I know we don’t live in fantasy land. Sometimes we have to stay up late. Sometimes we have insomnia. Sometime sleep isn’t as succulent and sweet as we want it to be.

And then we get old(er). (Old enough, at least.) Sleeping in becomes something reserved for lazy prepubescent pimply boys. We take pride our ability to survive and thrive on four hours of sleep — a pride that only shows itself after copious coffee, of course.

“No, I can’t sleep in. I have too much stuff to do…like…watch TV…mow the lawn…shop…because if these things don’t get done, the world might explode…might. My health is so unimportant to me, that I have to mow the law to show everyone how much time I’m willing to waste to maintain my social image and societal expectations in an industrialized society!”

If you’re feeling run down, you need to sleep. Sleep is the greatest Senzu Bean we have. So hark back to your thirteen year old self and sleep the hell in. Don’t set an alarm. Just sleep. If you wake up, go back to sleep. And then do it until you’re really ready to wake up.

2. Light workout, long stretch

Blood heals. That’s why muscles and bones heal faster than ligaments and tendons. Blood heals better than rest, really. Blood delivers nutrients to places and escorts nutrients from places. So if you have damaged tissues (hence the need for Senzu Beans), you need blood flow. Laying around like a slug while you’re intestines stop churning isn’t all that great for circulating blood through out the body.

There are two fixes. First, do your warm-up and then go home. Second, have a long stretching session. Do either. Or both.

I prefer the latter: a long dynamic stretching (this one) session followed by a long static stretching session. Breathe easy during both types of stretching. Move the limbs through the range of motion slowly, even during the dynamic stretching.

Foam roll (or use any other self myofascial release technique) here if you want to. I’m not a huge fan of it myself unless you have a specific problem you need fixing. (An Athlete’s Guide to Chronic Knee Pain, for example, makes use of copious rectus femoris SMR.)

3. Match your training and nutrition

The following might seem remarkably stupid to some, but consider it a revelation on my end: insofar as gaining muscle and losing fat, your nutrition must match your training demands. Let me explain

I gain muscle without body fat using The Chaos Bulk. Chaos Bulking is the long card compared to traditional bulking. Where I gain one pound every one-two months, a traditional bulker gains one pound every week.

Translation: I’m always teetering between giving myself enough food, and not giving myself enough food. Translation part duex: my training progress must be slow cooked, not microwaved.

I was once asked about how I would adapt The Chaos Bulk for someone going on a 20 repetition breathing squat routine. My answer: I wouldn’t. If you go on an intense program (that has an aggressive progression), you can’t risk under delivering nutrients. Else, you’ll crash and burn.

Want to gain as much muscle in eight weeks as humanly possible? Demanding training. Demanding nutrition. (Expect body fat though, but the only way to gain as much muscle as humanly possible is to chronically over deliver nutrients.)

Want to play the slow card? Nutrition isn’t quite as predictable. Neither is training progress.

So this Senzu Bean shakes out as such: if you’re feeling beat, take a look at your training and nutrition. Is your nutrition aggressive or passive? How about your training? Do they “match?”

4. Find nature and walk

Buddy Morris once said that despite all of the revolutionary training means and new age gizmos, there’s one method — one Senzu Bean – that is simply unmatched for recovery: going to a beach, clearing your mind, and walking on the shoreline.

But this isn’t feasible for a lot of us, so use my alternative: go outside whenever the weather is nice, and simply lay in the sun for ten minutes. If you live in an urban area, drive somewhere peaceful once per week. Preferably somewhere without cars. Listen to the birds. The wind. Feel the sun. Soak it in. Appreciate it. Feel the Senzu Bean effects.

5. Control stressors

I can tell you not to stress, but you will anyway…I stress even though I tell you not to stress. The key isn’t to pretend like it doesn’t happen, the key is learn how to manage it. In the grand scheme of things, most of our horrible stressors aren’t all that horrible. Just yesterday, there was a tragedy at the Boston Marathon. Peoples lives are now permanently altered from said event. And there you are, complaining that you forgot to pack a banana for lunch. Or complaining that grandma-behind-the-wheel is driving slow.

Our daytime is usually stress-full. That’s just life. So try to make your nighttime stress-free. What can you do to relax? Can you read a book? Can you meditate? I’d even tell you to play video games, but some video games elicit a stress response that’s wildly remarkable to actually being on the field of battle. (I honestly want to say this is why a lot of video gamers are skinny-fat…they’re going through serious stress response juice, all while doing nothing more than sitting on the couch.)

So the Senzu Bean here: relax. Most things you stress over are stupid. And stressing over stupid things is a recovery killer because it interferes with our ability to create perfect storms.

6. Create perfect storms

I’ve learned (from smart people, mind you), that we’ve got two balancing branches of the nervous system: the sympathetic nervous system and the parasympathetic nervous system. I’ve also learned (from those same smart people), that the two don’t really work their magic simultaneously. When one is kicking, the other is snoozing. So we have the sympathetic nervous system exciting us, and then the parasympathetic nervous system relaxing us.

Another way to look at it: any breakdown that occurs during sympathetic arousal is something to be addressed by future parasympathetic arousal. So a perfect storm is all about:

• Recognizing the adaptations you want to take place (muscle gain, for instance)
• Corresponding activities that provoke said adaptations with high sympathetic arousal
• Leaving the parasympathetic system alone to recover

Most of us train hard. But then we have small stressful events — we have noise. Our parasympathetic goons are working hard in the name of recovery…until mild noisy stressful events shuts them down. And then when the goons restart, they have to then address the noisy baggage that shut them off, which then takes away from the initial event that needed recovering from.

And since I’m nice, I’m going to give you a small glimpse inside of The Skinny-Fat Solution (there’s a free learning course available if you put in your nickname and email address into that website, by the way) and its Stubborn Fat Loss Guide. It’s equally important to avoid sympathetic arousal with situations that carry adaptations we don’t want. For instance, a sympathetically arousing event that uses fat for fuel is no good…even beyond no good.

So the Senzu Bean: create perfect storms so that your body has a rather unidirectional route for recovery. Don’t idle.

7. Train and fast

I’m going to end on a crapshoot. (I like ending on crapshoots. I did in 11 Training Tips for the Skinny-Fat Ectomorph and it turned out to be one of my greatest pieces of advice yet.)

You’re going to call me crazy for this. I’m calling myself crazy for it right now too. But hear me out.

Normally, I have a Goku-sized rice feast post-training. (Protein rice pudding always gets me.) And for those that know my ethos, you know that this is rather normal — I’m a fan of eating beyond-large starchy carbohydrate dense meals post-training upon reaching the solid base. It’s about recovering and kicking in the muscle building process.

But a few weeks ago, I decided to fast post-training.  (I don’t recommend this in The Chaos Bulk. This is just an anecdote…for now.) And since I only eat meal per day, this means that moving into Friday I was approaching 48 hours without food (not to mention, I trained the day prior).

And you know what? Around my normal training time, I felt amazing. The best I’ve felt in the past six months. (This is no exaggeration. I couldn’t believe it.) I felt so good I moved my training session up one day just because I didn’t want to waste the feeling. I then followed this training session with a Super Saiyan sized Goku rice feast.

So let’s answer the obvious question: why would I do such a thing? The accepted theory as of now is that if you don’t fuel your training needs post workout, that your body has the potential to breakdown you muscles and use them for energy.

While this is likely true to some extent, we’ve failed to consider if this is good or bad. It might seem bad from the get-go, but consider that it’s usually the bad proteins that are sacrificed first in a time such as this. And ridding yourself of bad proteins could, perhaps, not be so bad after all.

The Senzu Bean here: don’t be afraid to do some moving if you’re fasting for a long(er) duration. I don’t recommend doing this often, but it’s worth an experiment if you’re into the whole starving yourself gig. (As I somehow manically am.)

I can’t explain it. I won’t try to. But I can’t explain Senzu Beans either. Sometimes it’s just best to chuck ‘em down, and let ‘em work their magic.

Conclusion to the 7

Alright, so it might not be as easy as popping a Senzu Bean, but there are ways to perk up after feeling beat down. And, please, don’t go to the store looking for Senzu Beans. But I would appreciate it if you shared a Senzu Bean of your own below. Maybe you have one not many know about? Or maybe you use one of the above regularly? Either way, I’d love to hear from you.

P.S. If you’re anxious for the release of The Skinny-Fat Solution be sure to check the blog for a special post tomorrow. This is the only hint I’m giving you. 

“FRA-GEE-LAY. It must be Italian!”

“Oh, I think that says ‘fragile,’ honey.”

And not long after, we learn that the beloved leg lamp is indeed very fragile. Broken to bits after falling from a coffee table.

Lucky for us, the human body isn’t so fragile. We not only handle a bit of disorder, but also thrive through a bit of disorder. Training itself is “disorder.” If we were leg lamps, squats would smash us to pieces. Glue us back together, perhaps, but we’d never quite be the same.

We have this unique ability to rebound after disorder—something more known and applicable in the toxicology world by its “official” name: hormesis.

Hormesis is defined by the dose-response relationship. Something at a high dose or concentration may be dangerous, but at a lower dose that same “something” can be beneficial. The prime example of hormesis: vaccinations. Inject a handle-able dose of a disease into the body in order to develop a long term immunity. That same disease in a larger dose would likely kill us.

If we were fragile, no amount of disease would be good. Fragile likes order. Fragile likes predictable. Likes nice. Neat. Color in the lines control.

I dare say we’re built for disorder. Putting on my imaginary paleo goggles, I see primitive folk waking up to an ever changing environment. Overly predicting seems to be an industrial age gig—weather, traffic, sales, etc…

Our body is like silly putty. We’re more fun with disorder, provided we don’t overstep our boundaries. We even enjoy disorder. That’s why nature is beautiful. Nature is anything but orderly in the traditional mathematical sense. There are no straight lines or perfect circles in nature. We often forget that randomness and disorder are normal in nature, let alone “real life.”

A bit of clarification

The idea and inspiration for this article comes from Nassim Taleb’s book, Antifragile. I’ve ranted about fragility enough, so I won’t really talk about the book itself here. (It is a good read though.)

Taleb creates three categories:

• Fragile: things that don’t like disorder. Think of glass. Easy to break, no repair.
• Robust: things that “break even” through disorder. They don’t gain or lose anything, just stay the same.
• Antifragile: things that benefit from disorder. Think of the body getting stronger from lifting weights, or developing immunity to a disease.

After reading Antifragile, I couldn’t help but think that I’ve naturally made my training habits more robust-to-antifragile over time. But we live in a glass world. Making things truly antifragile is tough. Most of our “fixes” will be more on the robust side of things—finding a way to survive and “break even” even in the face of mayhem.

Respecting inherent antifragility

Your body has inherent antifragility. What you can’t do is eliminate this natural antifragility by making yourself fragile. And I don’t mean “breakable,” but rather less receptive to disorder. Remember hormesis. Something bad might be good provided it’s not in excess. We don’t like to think this way. We don’t want to know that the hinges allow the door to swing both ways. We want to know that “x” is good for us, no matter what. Not that “x” might be bad if overdone, yet good if underdone.

Alas, such is the nature of biology. The era of over calculating and over predicting is over. Don’t fight it. Embrace it. Embrace the fact that we aren’t machines with twistable knobs. You wouldn’t be reading this is we were. The worst thing you can do is transform yourself into an overly predictable – overly fragile — creature. Here’s the start of making sure this doesn’t happen:

1. Introduce gradually

“Hey, I just signed up for a marathon. It’s three weeks away, and I haven’t trained in one year. Can you help me?”

“GTFO.”

That’s basically how the email conversation goes.

When introducing anything new, introduce gradually. Just like I mentioned in When to Add Weight to Bodyweight Exercises, too much too soon is a recipe for injury. Injuries are often caused by not respecting this hormetic dose-response relationship. (As opposed to muscular imbalances.) Tissues, muscles get strong over time.

One does not simply walk into Mordor and train like a professional Olympic weightlifter. Even Goku had to gradually increase his supragravitational limit. You’re only antifragile up to a point. You can’t exceed that point, else you’re gonna break.

2. Don’t disrespect physiological chaos.

This means a few things.

First-

Don’t overly predict your nutrition needs. I get a lot of emails about this — people can’t seem to find an accurate “calculator” online that predicts their metabolic rate. But nothing online will  accurately predict how many calories you need.

Dr. Robert Sapolsky says grand master chess players churn through 6,000 – 7,000 calories on match days. If this is true, I won’t fathom what any metabolic calculator would spat out for their needs, considering they’d be categorized as a sedentary “out of shape” people.

There are a million minuscule things that effect your nutrient needs from not only a calorie standpoint, but also from a “how each calorie is used” standpoint — what determines the delegation of each calorie to muscle, fat, or use in other bodily processes. In The Chaos Bulk, I recommend eating a round about level of food every day for a little while to make it easier to gauge your needs. But even then, it’s an understood estimate because the tenant of chaos is being receptive to eating more (most times way more) or less (sometimes way less — to the point of nothing) depending on how any one day (and it’s randomness) shakes out.

Second-

Allow wiggle room in your training. I should say, “don’t use percentages,” but I fear my head would be on a stake by days end.

I think most of us can make tangible and predictable progress for a long time. (This will make sense soon. The Skinny-Fat Solution is soon to launch, as is a separate (and free) program: The Great Eight Exercises for the X Physique.) But this process doesn’t make use of percents. It’s gradually built into over time (hormesis, anyone?) rather linearly. Do a little. Rest. Adapt. Do a little more. Rest. Adapt. Repeat.

Through this, we have “maximum” in mind. And then it’s  matter of trying to either break the maximum, or training “lighter.” You can use percentages for this “lighter” training, but percents form a conception in our mind before any work gets done. We know 75% is going to be around “this” heavy. 90% “that” heavy. We’d probably lift 75% just as well as 70% if we thought the 75% was indeed 70%. But the % artificially creates a certain level of difficulty in our mind.

Percents also don’t allow for wiggle room. 75% won’t always be 75% because your absolute maximum isn’t necessarily representative daily maximum. Sure, you can deadlift 500 pounds after drinking six cups of coffee and sniffing ammonia, but that doesn’t say what your calm, cool, and collected everyday self is capable of.

That’s why I like light days that only make use of the 10′s, 25′s, and 45′s. It’s a cruder gauge. You either have the ability (and desire) to lift 20, 50, or 90 pounds more or you don’t.

Third-

Deprive and indulge.

To finish up the thought from last section, I’ll throw out a concept popularized by Charlie Francis: make your highs higher, and your lows lower. I think most of us are best served either trying to beat our previous maximum, or training light enough so that we’re fresh enough to beat our previous maximum when the time is right. My light deadlifting day consists of snatch grip deadlifts: 5×135, 5×155, 5×185, 5×205, 5×225. That’s all. Never more. It’s easy, yes. But that just means I can go higher on my heavy days.

Deprivation and indulgence is even more relevant in the nutrition world. Nothing is more predictable than eating the same thing in the same quantity and the same time day in and day out. Give yourself some variance. Don’t let the body take nutrients for granted. Let it know that, at times, certain nutrients (food in general too, via fasting) won’t be around. Something tells me this is good in the long run, and does indeed make your body better at making use of whatever it was deprived of — precisely the foundation of The Chaos Bulk.

Yes, this also means your multivitamins are junk. I mean, realistically, how prone were we (this is the imaginary paleo goggles talking) to get an abundance of every single vitamin and mineral on a daily basis? Now, I’m not all that paleo (I eat white rice, which means I’m more Goku than paleo) but I think some ancient ancestral habits still hold worth — deprivation and indulgence being a topic in that conversation.

Factors of fragility

Now that you aren’t making your inherent antifragility fragile, we enter the realm of true fragility. Fragility is caused by anything random that gets in the way of  that which seems “perfect” on paper. There can be many reasons why these events occur, all of which are largely unpredictable. Worrying about their origins is a waste of nervous energy. It’s much better to set your sights on how to thrive despite the randomness.

• Oops, I just read 23546 pages of A Song of Ice and Fire. It’s now 3AM and I have to wake up at 5AM. Lulz. The heavens!
• My friend just called me and told me he needed picked up from the car dealership. But I was supposed to train in five minutes. The heavens! (Thanks Phil.)
• I’m scheduled to max on deadlifts today, but my neck is in shambles from the way I slept. The heavens!
• Just got done training in supragravity. Time to eat a dinner Goku would be proud of, in true Chaos Bulk style. What’s this? The girlfriend just told me we will be going to a bar to meet a friend. Starchy carbs and alcohol don’t mix too well. Do I still eat? Do I forego drinking and look like a social outcast? The heavens!
• Was planning on eating a Goku sized rice feast for dinner, in true Chaos Bulk style, but I got to the gym and pooped out. I didn’t have it. Didn’t get any meaningful work done. What’s the fate of the feast? The heavens!
• An unexpected rain shower spoiled my tricking intentions. The heavens!

You can spend your days cursing to the heavens that life doesn’t conform to your perfect-on-paper training and nutrition plan. Randomness is around us. And I’m starting to think that those that “make it” are those that know how to handle the randomness — how to make things either robust or antifragile.

The thing about randomness: there aren’t any rules (hence randomness). But if you take a look at what prevents you from working your magic on a regular basis, you’ll probably find commonalities. Someone with a wild social life will face different sorts of randomness than someone with three kids.

So here’s what we’re going to do. Since each stumbling block is a case-by-case thing, either a) drop a comment, a b) drop an email about random events that get in the way of your progress — things that you’ve been unable to make robust or antifragile. If the demand is high, perhaps it can be the start of a new antifragile post “series.”

Are you mindlessly following tradition when it comes to adding weight to bodyweight exercises? Are you forced to hit a certain (and highly arbitrary) repetition number without an external load before moving onto an external load?

Here’s what you need to know about adding weight to bodyweight exercise, no tradition attached.

Do you ever do seven reps per set? How about nine? Eleven? Thirteen? Probably not. Most of you probably stick to threes, fives, eights, tens, and other popular numbers.

We stick to tradition.

The numbers are just an example here—as I’m sure some of you purposely do sevens, nines, and elevens to stick it to the man (like me). The point is that we unconsciously follow tradition. (Or consciously disobey tradition. Maybe Vegeta can empathize.)

The tradition of mastering bodyweight exercises looks something like this: you need to hit a certain ability with your body weight before adding an external resistance. In other words, don’t do weighted chin-ups until you can do ten bodyweight chin-ups. Don’t bench press until you can do fifteen push-ups. (The tradition of repetition numbers has some relevance here, as most body weight progression traditions use repetition traditions to reference ability, which means we’re officially traditionally overdosed. Numbers are arbitrary, but this is just another obsessive compulsive quirk of mine.)

Don’t walk before you can crawl, is what it all essentially amounts to. Seems sensible enough. Add weight when the bodyweight version of an exercises gets easy.

But I’m an odd ball. The step-by-step progression never worked for me with bodyweight exercises. I want to say it’s because I didn’t know much about programming back when I first started training these exercises, but a recent handstand incident tells me otherwise.

When I started training, I couldn’t even do one chin-up. I haphazardly built my way up to five reps, but couldn’t break further free.

Despite five repetitions being a bane, three rep sets were a breeze. So I did the only thing that seemed to make sense: weighted chin-ups with three rep sets. I was able to consistently add weight to these, which then drove up my unweighted reps.

More recently, a handstand anecdote. My handstand training has been sporadic (an issue in itself, I know), but I’ve struggled with consistent long duration holds. Then I started doing single repetition free standing negatives, and handstand push-up work against a wall. Both of these made me much “stronger” and more comfortable on my hands.

Looking back, I’ve prematurely — at least, by most standards — added weight to bodyweight exercises with success. Let’s find out why, and whether or not you’re a candidate.

Limiting factors of bodyweight exercises

Bodyweight exercises have two big limiting factors: strength and skill.

Exercises with a strength limiting factor don’t have much of a learning curve, nor are they all that complex. Chin-ups are a great example. Most know how to do a chin-up. There’s no secret: hold on and pull yourself up.

Exercises with a skill limiting factor are generally more complex, and have more “moving parts.” The poster child of exercises handcuffed by skill is the pistol squat. Not being able to do a chin-up is a different animal than not being able to do a pistol. There are a lot more “issues” that arise during the pistol, which is why some very strong people can’t pistol.

Skill is a matter of integrating a multitude of strengths together. With the pistol there’s balance, ankle mobility, strength of the squatting leg, and strength of holding the other leg in the air.

So the first part of determining whether or not to add weight to a bodyweight exercise is determining whether you’re hindered by strength, or whether you’re hindered by skill. The easiest way to find your answer is to think in terms of brute strength. If you’re held back by more than a matter of powering through another repetition, then you might need more than strength.

The standard chin-up is a brute strength move, so it benefitted from more strength (seems simple when it’s put that way, doesn’t it?) But here’s an anecdote of the flip side.

When learning both the pistol squat and one arm push-up, I took a different approach. Absolute strength of the working muscles wasn’t the limiting factor. No amount of weighted push-ups, bench pressing, or any other loaded pressing was going to help me one arm push-up any better.

I needed to learn how to coordinate my existing strength specific to the one arm push-up. So what did I do? Trained them every day. Just a few reps. Not always intense. Never fatiguing. Just enough to “learn” how to coordinate my existing strength in a way specific for the execution of the one arm push-up.

No exercise is absolute, and how to add weight

It’s important to note, with the above example, some exercises waive between strength limiting and skill limiting. Something like a pistol squat can be limited by both, making this a not-so-absolute journey. This roadmap will serve the general purpose:

Notable strength limited bodyweight exercises:

• Push-ups
• Inverted rows
• Parallel bar dips
• Chin-ups

Notable skill limited bodyweight exercises:

• Handstands
• Muscle-ups
• Pistol Squats
• One arm anythings

(With a unilateral exercise, the first concern is whether or not the limb at work is strong enough to complete the movement. Assuming that it is strong enough, the unilateral aspect then brings about balance, counteracting rotation, and other issues less hindered by brute strength, and more hindered by coordinating strength together, which is more on the skill side of things.)

This skill limited list is rather loaded, as they all require strength. You can’t muscle-up unless you’re decent at pull-ups and dips. But I defer to what I said earlier about asking the question of brute strength.

Is this a brute strength thing? If so, maybe you need to build some strength.

Is this a skill thing? (Are you losing balance? Resisting rotational force?) If so, maybe you need more practice.

Take each movement for what it’s worth. Handstands have a lot of skill. Frequent practice is good. But perhaps the handstand balance is tough because you don’t have the strength in the position. Same can be said for the pistol. Depending on how strong your legs are, it could be one or the other.

Remember that the body is smarter than we think. I won’t accelerate what it feels it can’t decelerate. It won’t lift what it feels it can’t grip securely. So you’re struggling with body weight exercises, from a repetition standpoint, consider prematurely adding a load. Even if you don’t hit a magical number of repetitions, tradition be damned.

Your biggest concern when adding weight: the lower intensity, higher repetition work prepares the tissues for more intensive training down the line. So just be careful and use a safe progression.

This is going to be übercomplex, so get a pen, paper, calculator, iPad, iPhone, mass spectrometer, and compass. But if you do it right, you should be alright in the long run.

Start light. My weighted chin-ups started with 2.5 pounds, and I simply added 2.5 additional pounds every week. Otherwise, not only would progress stall early, but you’d also risk tendonitis and the likes. This also works well for parallel bar dips.

So there’s no hard rules here. But don’t succumb to tradition without giving it some thought.

Have you ever given your unconscious workings conscious thought? Have you ever extended the realm of physical performance into mental performance?

If you haven’t (and you probably haven’t), you’re missing out. Lets start with a simple, yet incredible fun, domain: dreams. We dream every night. So why not have a little fun with them?

How much fun can you have toying with your dreams? I’ll leave it up to you to answer that question. But I suggest saving your answer until you learn how to control your dreams…and fly like Goku.

Lightning bolts dismantled the Colosseum as I weaved through its arches. Each bolt sparked further wonder. How was I narrowly escaping a certain electroculatory death? It was a rather illogical thought at the time, as I was simultaneously flying through the sky like Goku, watching the spandrels being sent every which direction. But then it hit me. I was fighting it, but it was too strong. Before long, I was beaten.

*

On my computer, in a folder named “MISC,” there’s a Word document that contains every single dream I had during the summer of 2006. (It’s a .doc file, not .docx. We’re talkin’ old school here.)

It was a joint venture. My friend and I make a pact. We’d send each other our dreams every morning. It retrospect, it sounds a bit weird. But it was one of most interesting self-experiments I’ve ever done. The whole gig was under my friend’s direction. He wanted to get into lucid dreaming. That is, recognizing that you’re dreaming within a dream itself.

Dream recollection—the conscious process of remembering your dream—is an important part of lucid dreaming. By writing down a dream, you’re apt to remember the both the dream and dream consistencies (seeing the same people, objects, events, etc.). This creates triggers—things that tip you off that you’re dreaming. And that’s the magic sauce.

Trigger or no trigger, lucid dreaming isn’t easy. Even under the slim chance that you do recognize that you’re dreaming, you’ll probably wake up soon after.

The idea of lucid dreaming may seem out of place here. But it’s very much in place. As this site continues to expand and full encompass my ethos, more and more psychological-mental-philosophical content will appear. Exploring the limits of the human body is more than questing for a six pack. And let’s face it: if you can lucid dream, you can fly around like Goku. Need I say more?

This is where I differ from meatheads — and I this is where you differ too. (At least, I hope.) My physical capacity is a vehicle for personal growth. It isn’t the totality of my being. There’s little difference (t0 me) between tricking, training, or lucid dreaming. It’s all in the name of exploring the limits of your capabilities.

The mind so underrated in all of this. Jujimufu and I once talked about how we approached new tricks and maximal effort lifts with the same process. The energy, the hype, the ritual—one in the same. Both have times of of rigorous visualizations—seeing your body perform in your mind—followed by times of near mental blankness, as over thinking (among the experienced) tends to paralyze.

Your psychological-emotional condition is sister to peak performance. And this is a huge part of The Skinny-Fat Solution. Skinny-fat syndrome isn’t just physical, it’s also mental-perceptual. In this field of “fitness” (you’ll fully understand the air quotes soon enough), people often reduce things to their simplest parts in an attempt to better understand them. But I tend to take a step back and appreciate the whole as a complex, intertwining, dynamic system.

So say, for instance, that you injured your shoulder throwing.

You can play the reduction game. Niche your way down to a specific muscle that might have been “imbalanced” or “weak” or “dysfunctional.”

Or you can look at it and say…

• Was there any circumstance that might have encouraged injury on this specific day?
• Was there an emotional trigger?
• What’s the mileage/stress over time? Did it poop out from lack of recovery as opposed to lack of strength?
• Is there anything that would have prevented normal recovery?
• Is the injury an inherent risk to the movement? (Yes, I believe that a lot of injuries are simply “made up.”)

The more we play the reduction game, the stupider we become. And that brings us to this: the more you separate your mind from your body, the stupider (worse) you become. Thinking, pondering, philosophizing, and expanding your mind is just as important as expanding the physical body.

So with something like lucid dreaming, the biggest perk is being aware of every day experiences (that have the potential to be fun, complex, interesting, and entertaining — dreams are your own novels) that the majority of people routinely ignore.

• What do dreams mean?
• What kind of effect would they have if you can control them?
• How would taking an interest in dreams effect your sleep?
• Would you want to go the sleep then?
• Is there some kind of psychological or mental power to be gained from this?

These are all important questions—questions you’ve probably ignored, or never thought of. Questions that impact your performance and progress. Consider lucid dreaming a good way to start expanding your mind. It’s time to discover the other half of yourself — the half that you’ve been missing.

The Steps to Lucid Dreaming

Before getting into this, it’s important I tell you that I’m no expert. I’m just a goonie (as I am with most things I write about). I was actually the third man in the chain of information. Books and websites being first, my friend being second, and myself being the third. I’m simply regurgitating what I remember, and what worked for me.

Step 1: Get in the right mood pre-sleep

Translation: what should you be thinking about when you’re trying to fall asleep? I’m sure there’s a “best practice” for this, but I think experimentation is best.

My friend and I started out visualizing ourselves in a Duke Nukem, first person shotter-esque mode. We’d play through some sort of scenario in the first person, in hopes that — fingers crossed — it continues as you fall asleep.

We eventually progressed into the complete opposite — a blank, black, and bereft mind. This seemed to work better. (It also helps you fall asleep better, in my experiences. You can see other sleep tactics I use here.)

Step 2: The recall

I know, I know. You never remember your dreams. At least, that’s what you tell yourself. But it’s likelier that you simply don’t make a concerted effort.

You won’t remember every dream you have. It’s a tough process at first. But as you grow the habit, you’ll recall like crazy. Waking up becomes an adventure. You’ll probe your mind’s walls for the latest unconscious story that unraveled. It’s like waking up  to a new movie every morning. With every recall, detail recollection increases, as does vividness.

All it takes is one. So anytime you wake up, search your mind for a minute. If you recall anything, write it down. If you wake up in the middle of the night (as I usually do from  terrible habit of drinking too much water in the immediate pre-sleep hours), jot down details. Keep a small pen and pad at your bedside. Be as detailed as possible. If you aren’t, here’s what happens: you recall a killer dream — the dream even a fantasy would be jealous of — and tell yourself, “There’s now way I can forget this!,” only to forget it when you wake up in the morning. And it will happen even with your notes. Don’t get too frustrated. The mind is a complex thing.

What it all comes down to  is recognizing you’re in a dream. And to do this, you have to create triggers that hint of your conscious state.

Say you jotted down ten dreams. Say, in every one of those dreams, you’re somehow walking on the same sidewalk. Get in the mindset of, “If I ever see this sidewalk again, I know that I’m dreaming.” So find similarities—people, places, things—across dreams, and then create triggers. And do that by spending five to ten minutes every morning barfing your dreams into a Word document.

Step 3: Body graffiti trigger

Scouring your dreams for triggers is tough. Dream recollection is sporadic. It might not happen nightly. And even if you do catch a few here and there, you might end up with ten dreams and no similarities between them.

The solution?

Create your own trigger.

We used to write the letter “C” on the palm of our hands every morning, and we’d make sure to peak at it frequently.

The rationale?

When you see the “C,” you know you’re awake. But if you ever look down and the “C” is gone, you know you’re dreaming.

Step 4: Controlling the freak out

After some weeks (probably more like  months), you’re going to recognize you’re in a dream…only to take up milliseconds after said recognition. It’s like a vacuum pulls you out of your dream and into reality — probably because you’ll legitimately freak out about it.

“OH EM GEEEEEE I’M DREAMMINNGG.”

So stop doing that. Breathe slowly. Don’t make a big scene about it. Act like you’ve been there.

This is called “stabilization,” and there are smart people out there that can tell you how to do it better than I can.

Step 5: Creating your own movie

Once you stabilize, the unconsciously conscious world is yours to command. I flew through a lightning storm during my first lucid dream. It won’t be a clean process. You’ll fight stabilization the entire way, so don’t think that it just “clicks.”

There’s little reason not to lucid dream. It doesn’t take much effort, and the journey is really fun. My dream book brings back many memories, and I’m glad for having done it. (It’s even compelling me to start another one.)

But the best part?

The feeling when you lucid dream for the first time.

You’ll never forget it. You’ll wake up just like you did for Christmas when you were six years old. How awesome is that? You’ll always remember it. So get out there. Start working on the “other side” of performance.

+++++

Have you ever had a lucid dream? Or tried to lucid dream? Drop a comment below with more tips or experiences. I’d love to hear ‘em.

So you want to get into the realm of doing some kind of training everyday, eh? Here’s what you need to know so you don’t implode your progress.

When does it hit me? I’m not sure…

Maybe when the rice is done cooking?  Maybe when my meal is laid out before me? Maybe in the shower? Maybe when I pull my woolen comfy socks onto my feet?

Let’s just say somewhere in this sequence:

Stretching. Shower. Shorts. Shirt. Socks. Sustenance.

Ah, and it’s a good sequence too. It’s a sequence of relaxation—a feeling nothing quite compares to.

Truth be told—and this is a dirty confession, I suppose—I don’t bounce giddily into my garage to train. I’m much happier after the fact. And that feeling after….sometime within the “s” cascade…is the real reward for me. It’s a feeling I don’t get on rest days, even if I do the same “s” dance.

My corpse rots itself into a chair most days. It’s a disheartening side effect of producing fine content for your eyeballs to consume. Don’t get me wrong, there are some days that I’d rather slouch around like a slug. But I always feel better after having mustered some movement. And I’m not talking any old movement. Mobility work doesn’t do it. It’s gotta’ be decent muscular contractions through a full range of motion.

Since I usually have four “true” training days per week, this leaves me with three “rest” days — three days that I’d rather stimulate some blood flow through out my body. This brings about the idea of doing a little movement on a traditional “rest” day. I suppose it wouldn’t be much of a “rest” day anymore though. But for reasons you’ll soon see, I still think of them as “rest” days. This is already getting confusing, so let’s clear the logistics.

There’s a difference between training on a rest day, and doing some kind of daily high frequency training program. Training on a rest day means your program has inherent down time. So your stressful training takes place three or four days per week with rest days splattered in there for recovery. This means — usually, but not universally — that these three of four training days are of a higher intensity (neurally, muscularly, emotionally). In contrast, a deliberate daily high frequency program wouldn’t have recovery days built in. Because of the higher frequency, one of or more of the intensity markers is usually sacrificed — the training isn’t as demanding.

So the ideas below are suited to those on a “traditional” program that want to do a little movement on their off days.

The biggest problem from the get-go: rest days are built into programs for a reason. They promote regeneration of the tissues so that you can always perform at a high level. Training on a rest day can’t interfere with this. Rest day training should never interfere with progress on main strength exercises, or “normal” training sessions.

So not imploding progress is the most important consideration. So here are five rest day training rules to obey. In a week or two (if I’m feeling generous) I’ll tell you how to use both high frequency training and rest day training to actually get better.

Let’s start at the top.

Any time you train on a rest day—or do some kind of high frequency training program—three things can happen:

• You get worse
• You break even
• You get better

Let’s classify “get better” and “break even.”

Breaking even simply means preventing your butt from melting into the fibers of your seat cushion. This is movement for the sake of movement. You aren’t gaining anything, save for the mental clarity of moving — the feeling of blood coursing throughout dormant tissues.

Getting better implies some sort of goal, of which there may be many:

• To gain muscle
• To learn skills
• To get stronger
• To recover faster

And this list can go on, as all of these are possible…but only if you handle with care.

There’s a fine line between getting better, breaking even, and getting worse. The line starts at the differentation between stimulating exercise and fatiguing exercise.

Rule #1 / If it’s physically or emotionally fatiguing, don’t do it

Physical fatigue is both muscular and neural. A set of pull-ups to strain is different than a set of deadlifts to strain is different than a set of push-ups to strain. “Strain” is universal from a muscular standpoint, but not so much from a neural standpoint. (This could branch into factors that make an exercise more neurally demanding like spinal loading, intensive gripping, or local muscular work capacity, but that’s a bit more than what we need right now.)

The gist here is that effort should be stimulating, not fatiguing.

Don’t even listen to music on rest days. Listen to an audiobook, an educational lecture, or nothing at all. Rest day training should have a relaxed tone. You should be able to yawn your way through if need be. You should breathe comfortably, even if what you’re doing is mildly metabolically intensive.

No hype. No emotional investment.

So you need some wiggle room, as you never know how good you’re going to feel on any given day. You need something easily adjustable — something with parameters, not necessarily absolutes.

Rule #2: If it’s in the name of fat loss, don’t do it

Never do rest day training in the name of fat loss. Some advanced high frequency training methods might deliver fat loss as a side effect, but it should never be sought as a main effect.

Fat loss is primarily a nutritional pursuit. And what your nutrition doesn’t cover, your other “main” training sessions should. Let your rest days do their job. Don’t pound extra activity in the name of calorie burning. It’s a backwards mindset that almost always interferes with progress.

You can walk on a rest day, sure, but I don’t consider this “training.” It wouldn’t give me the wonderful feeling that normally falls in the “s” cascade. The lack of muscular contractions and range of motion don’t do it for me.

Sprinting, HIIT, and other common fat loss activities aren’t rest day training friendly. And now’s a good time to move to the next rule.

Rule #3: If it’s explosive, don’t do it 

One of the things I hate the most is putting sprinting on a “rest” day. It slaps the body in the face. Sprinting is one of the most neurally and muscularly demanding activities.

Any explosive training is neurally fatiguing, so save it for your main training days.

This means HIIT and the likes also fly down the tubes on rest days. HIIT may not be as neurally demanding, but it’s one of the most metabolically and emotionally draining forms of training.

If you do either of these things — or much of any explosive training on your rest days — you’re going to be hindering your strength and progress potential on your training days.

Rule #4 / If you don’t want it specialized, don’t do it

Consider rest days as “extra” training. You don’t want to give “extra” training to things you don’t want to improve. This sounds a bit weird, so consider your upper chest. If your upper chest is out of proportion, doing dips (or any other lower chest intensive movement) on rest days isn’t a great idea. (If you don’t know why, read The Best Damn Guide for Building Upper Chest Size and Strength.)

Rule #5 / If you have to warm-up, don’t do it

This is the best rule I have, and I’m mad at myself for saving it for last.

I’m a big fan of ditching any and all warm-ups on rest day training. If you’re doing something that requires a huge warm-up, you’re doing something that shouldn’t be done on a rest day.

This also helps break the monotony of “training days” vs. “rest day training days.” If you do the same pre-training ritual seven days per week, it’s going to get boring. I think the rest day flavor has to be completely different in form, function, and attitude. Nothing should be the same. Change the time you train. Change your shoes. Change everything you can.

This brings me to the most important element of rest day training: time.

Rest day training shouldn’t take more than ten minutes. And if you’re wondering the worth of getting to the gym for less than ten minutes, I’ll remind you that every respectable human being should equip themselves with some kind of pull-up device (gymnastic rings are awesome) at the very least. A barbell is another nice addition. I would say it’s your “right” to do this, but it’s more like your responsibility.

So if you’ve been training on your rest days, be sure to heed the five rules above. And if you’re in violation of any of the five rules, let me know so I can verbally chastise you. (You’re sprinting on your rest day. Aren’t you? AREN’T YOU@!!!@@#@$#$$? I know you’re doing HIIT too. MY EYEEYEYESSSZZZZZ.!)