Nullumficken

One of the downfalls of living in the United States is that for the most part we speak English. I like English - I majored in it - but it tries to make an entirely new, unique word for every idea that wants expressing. Often I'm partial to German with its tendency to take as many existing words as necessary, smash them together, and come up with a compound noun.

Thus we have "Nullumficken," which means, of course, zero fucking around.

I've been accused of many things: possessing animal intensity; shooting synthetic testosterone - yes this accusation has actually been made semi-publicly; being in general a jerk - which may not be entirely untrue; and more.

In truth, the only thing I do is access Nullumfickigkeit when it becomes necessary.

I've always been good at short duration Nullumfickigkeit, the stuff that let's me erg a sub 90 second 500 when a 1:40 would hurt me every bit as badly as it does anyone else, when I know that two hours later people will still be asking me if I'm okay, and when I know they'll walk away thinking I'm a jerk.

Like a twenty minute AMRAP, a 6,000 meter row, and other things I hate, longer duration Nullumfickigkeit is harder for me. What I've found is that registering for a competition and paying for it helps me find whatever Dauerhaftnullumfickigkeit I can.

After registering to compete at 181.75 July 31st, I was mortified to weigh myself at 188.6 this morning. Normally when people say, and they always do, that they want to lose ten pounds, I give them the soul-piercing gaze just long enough to ascertain that they're serious, then I walk away. Sure I'm a jerk, but weight loss goals only make sense for those few thousand people in the US who compete in body weight division sports.

So for the next three weeks I'll have to forgo the 33,000 calories I would have ingested in the form of heavy whipping cream, and eat the chicken, salmon, and broccoli. I won't enjoy this, and I'll probably be a jerk. You will do whatever it is you do, but I'd suggest you get close enough to me to feel the Nullumfickigkeit while staying far enough away to avoid the jerkiness.

Or you could do nothing.

Looking at my log, I see it's been 370 days since L5 went shooting across the room on a dead lift gone wrong. I've blocked that out as best I can, and therefore I can't exactly remember what I was doing a year ago, but knowing me I was probably trying to hit parallel on a squat with a 15 pound training bar. I'm sure I wasn't attempting the empty 45 pound bar yet.

I also see that on L5 day, my 1rm bench was 225 pounds. Yesterday I hit a paused 255. 30 pounds in a year, or 2.5 pounds a month. I admit it's tempting to scream at the sky and ask why not 50 pounds, but I've been doing this long enough to know that 30 pounds a year adds up, and that in any case it's better than regressing and adding to the obesity epidemic.

I think I'll not lift at the August meet, but concentrate on coaching which is really the more important part of my coach/athlete job.

All of which means let me know if you want to have pancakes, peanut butter cups, and root beer August 1st.

There is a limit to how much I can avoid fucking around, and if I hit 400, you might find me delightfully non-jerky.