Everyone Should Do LSD

Part 4 of our series “The Tao of the Lazy Badass”

Long, Slow Distance

I hate to say this, but your single biggest priority is to create some modest aerobic base. That is, if you were cursed by an evil genie to be allowed only one kind of exercise, it would need to be something aerobic.

Come on, Eighties, you’re better than this.

Why do I hate saying that? Because it sounds so 1980s, when America fetishized cardio to the neglect of all else and said we should avoid dietary fat and live on bagels and pasta. 

But you get the most happiness, health, leanness, and energy from a modest dose of easy aerobic exercise.

And I really do mean easy. I’m talking a maximum heart rate of 180 minus your age. That’s nothing. Unless you have a good aerobic base already, that’s probably just a fast walk while swinging your arms. 

And the great part is, you benefit MUCH more from that easy pace than by pushing yourself. If you care about why, read the writings of endurance super-coach Phil Maffetone. Maffetone trains elite athletes mostly or entirely in that 180 Minus Age zone, which is also where the endorphins and the bliss are. But whether or not you concern yourself with the “why?” the important point is this: by keeping your heart rate low, you IMPROVE the training effect. You are not compromising your training by going easy. You will outperform the people who train at too high a heart rate (which is almost everyone).

How do I figure out my heart rate?

The Polar FT1. It’s old, basic, debugged, and the least expensive of the reliable, useful ones. If Stalin had a heart rate monitor, it would be this one.

Buy a heart rate monitor. You’ll need to spend about $60 for an adequate, reliable basic model. Frugal to a fault, I seldom recommend throwing away money on wiz-bang fitness devices. But a heart rate monitor is one of the few exceptions. It really does help SO much that it’s a must-buy even for a tight-fisted Buddhist stoic who thinks that if the Red Army considered it an unnecessary frippery, you can too.

No, you don’t need to start running

Leonard’s Schwartz’s forgotten classic, Heavy Hands. Run, do not walk, to this book.

So do I mean that you should start walking or running? Nope. Do anything that elevates your heart rate to that magic number and holds it there steadily. You can ride a bike, roller blade, paddle or row, ski or snowshoe, and you might also really like another obscure activity from the 80s called HeavyHands. Trust me on this one: HeavyHands is awesome and makes you feel incredible. 

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Tao of the Lazy Badass: Entering the Way

As with radar, plastics, rocketry, and atomic energy, World War II also created modern physical therapy and the medical study of resistance training. A young doctor, Thomas DeLorme, found himself commissioned into the Army as an orthopedist responsible for rehabbing soldiers with leg injuries. As luck had it, DeLorme practiced a very unusual hobby for a medical gentleman–he was a weightlifter–and he quickly proved what now seems common sense: lifting weights gives size and strength to deconditioned muscles.

At the time, the medical establishment frowned on lifting weights as “overtiring” to the muscles and harmful to the heart. But DeLorme had once used resistance training to convalesce from rheumatic fever and in the Army he befriended a pair of his patients who were also experienced weightlifters and wanted to try rehabbing their legs with weights. DeLorme worked out a simple protocol that won his patients spectacular results and DeLorme a job at Harvard Medical School.

From a modern perspective, what stands out about DeLorme’s method is that he was blazing a trail down the road of the lazy badass. He invented a fool-proof way to accumulate Volume, the magic variable, by going easy and often. After finding (or simply guessing) his or her 10-rep max, the trainee did 3 sets of 10–first at 50% of the 10-rep max, then 75%, and finally 100%. Notice that we are talking here about the 10-rep max. When we convert these into the standard measure of Intensity, the one-rep max (1RM), we see that DeLorme was using very modest weights. I’d guess that average Intensity was scarcely 50% of 1RM.

That is about as light as you can get and still call it strength training. But that is where the magic happened. With such modest intensity, DeLorme could turn the volume way up. His trainees recovered from their light, refreshing workout quickly enough to repeat it the very next day, for a total of five days a week. At 150 reps per week in any given exercise, that is serious volume.

DeLorme worked out this curious set/rep scheme–one light set, one medium set, one somewhat heavy set–by trial and error. He admitted he didn’t know exactly why it worked. He surmised that the light and medium set were only acting as warmup sets and that only the heavy set made a real difference. But he was too smart to mess with success, and that is a good thing, because in hindsight, the volume is what makes this program effective. The light and medium sets are just barely heavy enough to matter, but they triple the program’s volume without adding much recovery cost.

Sgt. John Farbotnik, one of the two lifters who first worked with DeLorme when he was working out his protocol, went on to be Mr. America after the war.

Light and easy though the DeLorme protocol is, its high volume makes you big. In fact, it so happens that one of DeLorme’s first, experimental patients went on to become Mr. America!

This is still a winning protocol today for recreational trainees. Do it for deadlifts and one or two major exercises for the upper body (the bench press would be perfect) and take it away. It will take you almost no time to complete your workout, and to speed things up further, you can do your exercises in alternation: Deadlift, bench; deadlift, bench; deadlift, bench. Done!

The Tao of the Lazy Badass

“Like water, volume is soft and yielding. But volume will wear away rock, and it beats the crap out of excess fatigue. As a rule, volume wins over fatigue. This is another paradox: what is soft and voluminous is strong.”

from the lost training manual of Laozi (Lao-Tzu)
A difficult book, but the most important one I know.

In the most original book on training in decades, Pavel Tsatsouline describes a certifiable badass, a special operations ninja-type whom he pseudonymously calls “Victor.” Victor combines a pair of already-extraordinary feats into an extra-extraordinary combination: he runs ultra-marathons of up to 100 miles AND he does pullups with an extra 160# hanging from his waist. That’s a freakish level of endurance and world-class strength, a combination so rare as to seem impossible. (As we have said before, strength and endurance are rivals.) That is what makes Victor an elite among the elite, a certifiable badass.

To reach those heights, Victor trains in a very special way: lazily. Or to be more precise, with low fatigue. From his amazing accomplishments, you might suppose that he spends all day exercising and puking his guts out. Nope. Most days he works out for all of 30 minutes, much of it with a 24kg kettlebell, which is strictly a “Joe Average” weight, and some pushups and pull-ups and yoga. He left behind even low-key barbell training long ago, explaining that when he deadlifted, “I felt my ego pushing me harder and faster than my body wanted to go. So I decided to limit myself to one kettlebell and two [steel exercise] clubs …”

As the core of his lethargic-looking super-routine, Victor runs … sloooooowly. Slowly enough to breath only through his nose, with rhythm and relaxation. He writes:

“The key is … the LOW INTENSITY. I use a heart rate monitor, and I stay at 60% to 65% of my [max heart rate]. This means that I am often walking on the hills. If I ran [faster], my recovery time would be much longer.”

Allyson Felix knows the Tao of the lazy badass. Her coach, Barry Ross, keeps his athletes fresh and unfatigued in training. See Easy Strength.

Pavel and Victor are insistent: Victor is not succeeding in spite of his low-key training but precisely because he throttles back. Victor has perfected one way of applying the near-magical formula for productive and happy training: do as much work as possible while staying as fresh as possible.

Are those twelve words too much to remember? Then stencil this on your kettlebells, barbells, and running shoes: Volume Without Fatigue. That is the red thread that runs through many of the successful training philosophies out there, connecting disparate-looking approaches whose only apparent link is that they work well, and it is the subject of our next series, “Farewell to Fatigue: The Way of the Lazy Badass.”

Your author. Not a badass, but I make up for it in laziness.

Loopsided

This morning’s game was called “Loopsided”: three mismatched weights all carried off-center, starring the Leaden Loop.

People don’t like one-arm or one-legged lifts very much, including me, because they take more time and tire the core muscles. But you need to work in the transverse (side-to-side) somehow, and you can check that box with weighted carries, or even by lifting mismatched dumbells. You’ll feel challenged and kinesthetically interested, but it won’t suck up a lot of time or smoke your abs so much that it becomes just an elaborate core exercise.

See the unusual indented look of Pat McNamara’s waist. That’s how you tell someone with pro-grade one-arm and rotational strength. Don’t casually challenge such a person to a tug of war or a wrestling match.

The Steel Snake Eats Its Tail

Today’s game was to sew straps onto both ends of the Steel Snake and take it out for a slither.

Over 4 miles (6.4km), the Snake and I agreed on a few things:

  • With straps added on, it slips and flops around less. That way it’s much easier to carry.
  • Since it’s pretty slender, you can stay completely upright.
  • For both those reasons, you can relax under the load and carry it much, much longer. 

However, the Steel Snake gives you too many choices. When I dreamed it up, I thought it would be great that I could carry the snake lots of different ways, including wrapped in various ways around the waist, neck, and shoulders. And although you really can carry in different positions, it’s a pain to shift around and you spend as much time fiddling with it as marching. Furthermore, though lots of carry positions work, only one works spectacularly well, and that’s worn across the body like a sash or a bed roll.

So as my next experiment, I’ll change the Steel Snake into a dummy-proof fixed loop or “steel sash.”

Or maybe it will be called The Awkward Ouroboros.

The Famous Telnyashka

Rigert is said to have inspired the sport’s governing body to change their rule requiring a uniform of a single color so that he could wear the striped t-shirt on the platform.

Soviet weightlifter David Rigert was famous for his signature telnyashka, the blue and white striped t-shirt.

Originally part of the Russian naval uniform in Czarist times, the telnyashka got associated with valor in Soviet art through propaganda about the Kronshtadt sailors in the October Revolution, naval infantry who defended Leningrad, and petty officer-turned-sniper Vassili Zaitsev, hero of Jude Law’s Enemy at the Gates.

After the striped jerseys became cool, the Soviet airborne corps wore them too. But Rigert wasn’t in the airborne either.

But it turns out Rigert had nothing to do with the navy. He got his famous telnyashka through a misunderstanding.

In 1972, when Rigert traveled to a meet in the Romanian port city of Constanta, he met a group of sailors who mistook him for a fellow navy man. It seems they had seen a picture of him wearing a telnyashka and assumed that he’d done his mandatory military service in the navy, like them, so they proudly presented their honorary shipmate with a sailor’s telnyashka. Rigert had to disappoint his seagoing fans with the truth–he’d actually served in an army radar unit–but accepted their gift with gratitude and promised that he would wear it in competition for them.

Two months after getting the magical telnyashka, Rigert pressed a world record 198kg / 436 lbs., representing 220% of his bodyweight. I’d be overjoyed if I could squat that much raw.

Rigert dominated that meet and wore the jersey again at major meets in the early 1970s, as he cemented his reputation. Soon it became part of his public image.

Most memorably, he was wearing the telnyashka at the Munich Olympics, when he set an Olympic record in the press only to “bomb out” in the snatch. At least outside the USSR, those pictures from Munich–the triumph in the press, the disaster in the snatch–probably did more than anything to make the telnyashka his signature uniform.