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100 Push-ups in 22 Days

Push-ups

One from the vault:

Last month, I set a goal to do one hundred push-ups in a single set by the end of the month. Before I started working on this, I hadn’t done a single pushup in at least 10 years. At the beginning, I didn’t know if it would be possible, or how much it would hurt. I knew it would be a challenge, and I was looking for a challenge.

Three days before the start of the month, I did one set of pushups. I wanted to find my baseline, so I could see the progress I was making, and I wanted a chance to recover, so I’d be starting from scratch on the first of the month. That day, I did 20 pushups. I pushed, but 21 wasn’t going to happen. That’s not an impressive number, but I ride a desk all day and had spent 10 years lazy. It could have been worse.

My initial plan was to do two sessions per day, morning and night. I’d be doing a total of 56 sessions. Each session would consist of 5 sets of my baseline, progressing to 100 push-ups in a set for the 56th session. That would mean I’d have to add 1.5 pushups to my sets each session. I decided to add 1 to each set in the morning and 2 in the evening sessions. My planned progression was 20, 22, 23, 25…95, 97, 98, 100 over the course of the month.

That lasted one day. February 1st, I did 100 push-ups in 5 sets of 20. That night I did 110 push-ups in 5 sets of 22. The next morning, I hurt so much I couldn’t do 10. I did something like 8/5/5/5/cry-like-a-baby. My abs were cramping and my shoulders burned. I ended the session in the fetal position, hoping all of the screaming muscles wouldn’t cramp up at the same time. If pain is weakness leaving the body, then I was making a significant contribution to the the problem of homeless weakness particles.

Plan A failed. As I waited for the pain to end, I had some time to think. In between “Please don’t cramp! Please don’t cramp! Please don’t cramp!”, I developed Plan B.

I decided to base everything on the previous session’s largest set. The largest set would set my baseline for the next session. The first set in the session would be half of the baseline. The next three sets would be 3/4 of the baseline, and the final set would be pushed until I couldn’t go any further, establishing the next session’s baseline. Starting from my newly established baseline of eight push-ups, my next session was 4/6/6/6/15. The session after that was 7/11/11/11/16, then 8/12/12/12/16.

Plan B became an aggressive, self-correcting progression. If I pushed too hard, the next session was done at a lower level, allowing me time to recover.

The first week hurt. Going from little-to-no real exercise to an aggressive exercise regimen is painful. I was stiff and sore, but I was progressing. One of the best things about Plan B: Set #1 is a good warm-up. Warming up is important.

By the end of week one, I was back to where I started, doing sets of 20. I wasn’t sure I’d make it. I had a few days in a row that didn’t improve my baseline at all. Then I skipped a day. When I came back, but baseline jumped by 10 push-ups. I had hit a small wall, gave myself a day to recover and had a 50% improvement. Guess what got incorporated into Plan B? If I had two days in a row without improvement over the four sessions, I skipped a day.

By the end of week two, my baseline was up to 60. I stopped increasing the warm-up set, so it would still be a warm-up and not create strain. I only went above 20 for the warm-up set once before I created this rule. At this point, my session was 20/45/45/45/60. That’s progress.

At the end of week three, my baseline was at 80. I took the weekend off.

On Monday, February 22nd, I decided to see where my absolute max was. I did a set of 20 to warm up. I followed up with a set of 30, to make sure I was ready. Set #3 was 100 push-ups, a full week early. I’m not going to lie and say push-up #100 was perfect, but it was done. I went from barely being able to do 20 push-ups to successfully doing 100 push-ups in 22 days. I spent the rest of the week perfecting my form. After 75-80 push-ups, it’s hard to tell exactly how straight your body is and how low you are going, without a spotter or a mirror.

Next, I’m applying Plan B to sit-ups.

Link Roundup

Misc

In an effort to make sure that both of my readers can’t possibly miss the things I think are important, I’m going to start doing a weekly roundup of the best of the internet. Judged solely, and arbitrarily, by me.

On topic:

These, naturally, are the posts that fit the theme of this site.

How To Check Your Federal IRS Tax Refund Status. When I checked a couple of days ago, they were about 2 weeks out.

TurboTax has screwed up the property tax refund form for Minnesota. Thankfully, I haven’t filed this, yet, but I did verify the problem.

Where do you want to be in 5 years? Start taking those steps, now, or you will never get there. Find something, no matter how small, and do it.

Deficit Neutrality doesn’t count, if a massive initial purchase is offset by future intentions to cut spending.

Off topic:

This is just some of the random crap I think is worth sharing.

If you’re going to argue on the internet, make sure you have your sources right. Primary sources are better than secondary.

Bring back dueling to ensure good manners.

Here’s a guide to saving water-damaged books.

I am a shameless geek and reformed DnD player, so this room was exciting to see.

A Well-Trained Husband

Life

: Image by Getty Images via @daylife

I am so well-trained.

I was more than a bit wild when I was younger. For the most part, that ended when my son was born. When you procreate, it’s time to put the wild on a shelf and become a reliable provider. That’s just the way it is. Anybody who prioritizes the wild over the progeny needs to be forcibly sterilized and exiled before be sold for parts.

When my mother-in-law got a membership to Sam’s Club, she gave my wife the second card, so we effectively have a membership. For those who don’t know, Sam’s Club is a warehouse store that has some incredibly good deals and a lot of things that look like good deals because you are buying in bulk.

The thing I hate most about warehouse stores is the default accusation of theft when you leave. They require you to line up so the the person by the door can look at your receipt and pretend to count what’s in your cart while they are really scanning for the most-stolen items in the store and ignoring the rest. The only thing they really accomplish is making all of their customer feel like thieves.

I used to bypass the line and the checker and just leave. My wife got sick of the indignant screeches coming from the store as we left. Eventually she got me to stop.

Last night, I went back to pick up supplies for a fund-raiser I’m helping to organize on Sunday. I went with one of the other organizers, who had some personal shopping to do later. We checked out using his account and he paid, while I took the food home to keep until Sunday. Since he’ll be getting reimbursed for the food, he kept the receipt while I headed for the door. Anybody see the problem here?

When the receipt-checker challenged me, I docilely stepped to the side and called my friend to bring the receipt to the door. I hate the feeling of submitting to authority, especially when the authority is pretending to be customer service. I just calmly did what the door-cop told me, just like my wife wanted, even though she wasn’t there.

I hate warehouse stores.

Friends and Acquaintances

Life, Relationships

“Friends help you move. Good friends help you move bodies.”

-unknown

Some people have dozens of friends. I’m not that guy.

I have 6.

Everybody in the world can be divided into 4 categories.

Strangers. A xenophobe’s nightmare. These are the people you don’t know, whether they are passing you on the sidewalk, or newborns on the opposite side of the world.
Acquaintances. These are the people you’ve met, mostly in passing. They tend not to have much effect on your life. You may pass a friendly bus ride in conversation, but it’s nothing that sticks. A waitress, the clerk at the store, a friend’s latest date; these are the people you interact with for just a moment and rarely think about further.
Friendlies. Most people call these folks friends. I don’t. I’m friendly with them, hence the name, but it’s not true friendship. Often, they are either my wife’s friends, or my friends’ wives. Sometimes, they are a friend of a friend that I only see at parties, or a coworker that I get along with, but never see outside of work. We’re friendly, but not obliged. I may help with some things, but it’s not necessarily a priority. I’ll go to a funeral, but probably won’t help plan it.
Friends. To me, calling someone a friend is a big deal. I’m willing to do a lot for my friends. They are able to command large amounts of my time, and ask any number of favors. If needed, I’ll open my home or help demolish their’s. Loyalty, honesty, trust, respect, and companionship are all a part of my definition of a friend. If a friend needs help, I’ll come running. In return, I expect the same.

Family tends to fall into the same analogous categories.

It sounds cold, but I hesitate to let people graduate into the final category. My wife used to try to “set me up” with people that she thought I’d like to be friends with, thinking I was sad to have so few friends. It took years for her to realize that I was happy. It’s a matter of quality over quantity. Most of the friends I have, I’ve had for 10 years or more. I’ve known each of them for at least 5 years, not that time is a requirement.

Moving people into the “friends” category is a lot like dating. You get along, so you invite the potential friends out for a drink, one on one. You feel them out to see if they are compatible. You meet their families, share some food, build some history. If it all works out, eventually, you consider them a true friend, even if you couldn’t mark the date of the transition.

You wouldn’t marry everyone you date, so why would turn everyone you basically get along with into a friend?

Do you have a lot of friends? What marks friendship for you?

The Happy Butt

Life

Do you find the cloud in every silver lining? Is the glass not only half empty, but evaporating? Do you start every day thinking

Smiley head happy (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

about how the effects of entropy on the universe make everything you do ultimately pointless?

You may be a pessimist.

Pessimism gets a bad rap. Without pessimists, we wouldn’t have insurance plans, missile defense systems, or Eeyore, and what would the world be without those things?

The thing you have to ask yourself is “Does the negativity make you happy?”

The next thing you have to ask yourself is whether or not you were lying with your previous answer.

If you have a negative outlook on everything, I have good news for you: it’s possible to defeat it. No matter how long you’ve been looking at the world through coffin-colored glasses, no matter how ingrained your negative slant is, it’s possible to change it.

You have to want to change it, because, as the saying goes, old habits die hard. Yippee kai yay.

You need a happy butt.

Little known fact: language shapes the way you think. If your language has no words for a concept, you will have a difficult time thinking about that concept, or even understanding it. Statistically, Asians are better at math than their western-world counterparts. Why? It’s not genetic. When a family moves to the US, the edge is lost within 2 generations. It’s not the amount of school they get. Even in backwaters with limited school access demonstrate the same abilities.

It’s the language. Euro-based languages are horrible. They are a clumsy mish-mash of crap from around the world, and the numbering system makes no sense. 11, 12, 13, huh? Spoken, that’s not a progression, it’s something we have to learn by rote. Why is 13 pronounce “thirteen”, with the ones place first, but 23 is pronounced with the tens place first, the way it is written? Where did the word “twenty” even come from? It’s obviously a horrible bastardization of “two” and “ten”, but is it self-evident? Does the progression through the decades follow some kind of rule? Twenty, thirty, forty, fifty. Nope.

The Asian languages (most of them) differ. The numeric progression is spoken in a rules-based progression that makes sense. 23 is literally “two tens three”, making learning math less about rote memorization and more about masters some simple rules.

In the western world, we are handicapped by our language, at least when it comes to math.

The rest of our thoughts are formed by language, too. Learn a language with different roots than the one your were born with and see how your perceptions change.

One of the signs of negative thinking is qualifying everything you say negatively. For example, one person might say “It’s a beautiful day, today” while Mr. Negativebritches would say “It’s a beautiful day, but it’s probably going to rain.” That’s a sad butt, err, but. Every time you qualify a sentence with a sad butt, you are reinforcing your negative view of the world.

The solution? Drop your drawers and paint on a smiley face. You need a happy but(t). You can rephrase the sentence into a happy thought without changing the sentiment or meaning in any way. Try this: “It’s probably going to rain, but it’s a beautiful day, now.” That’s a happy butt, and it reinforces the positive in your mind.

It sounds stupid, but it works. Your language shapes your life. Put a positive spin on what you say, and you will eventually start to think about life in a positive way.

Give it a shot. For the next week, every time you say something negative, qualify it with a happy butt. At the end of the week, come back here and tell me how it’s working and if you can sense a change in your mindset.

How to Die Well

Finance

Most people don’t die quickly.

As much as I would rather die suddenly–while putting a smile on my wife’s face–the odds are that I will spend my last hours or days in a hospital, unable to make the decisions about my care.

Will I be doing my vegetable impression after a car accident, or be left unable to speak during a botched Viagra implanantation in my 90s? I don’t know.

There is one thing I know about the end of my life. I do not want to linger for months, blind and deaf, on a feeding tube. I don’t want my family to spend the last few months of my life secretly ashamed of hoping for my burden to end. I’d like my end to be quick enough that the emotions they are feeling aren’t a sad combination of guilt and relief, just sadness at my passing and happiness at having had me.

That’s the legacy I’d like.

The problem is making my wishes known. If I’m lying in a hospital bed, asking to be allowed to die, they’ll consider me suicidal instead of rationally considering my request. If I’m completely incapacitated, I won’t even be able to ask.

I can certainly make my wishes known beforehand, but how will my family be able to communicate my desires to the doctors in charge and how will they convince the doctor that they aren’t just after my currently imaginary millions?

That’s where a living will comes in. A living will, also know as an advanced directive, is simply a formal document that explicitly states what you want to happen to you if you are too out of it to make your wishes known.

Aging With Dignity has put together an advanced directive called Five Wishes that meets the legal requirements for an advanced directive in 42 states.

The Five Wishes are:

1. Who is going to make decisions for you, if you can’t? For me, the obvious choice is my wife. She appears to like me enough to want me around and love me enough to do what needs to be done, even if it’s difficult. On the chance that we end up in the same car accidents, matching vegetables on a shelf, I’ve nominated my father for the unpleasantness. I don’t think I’ve told him that, yet.

2. What kind of treatment do you want, or want to refuse? When my Grandpa was going, he made sure to have a Do Not Resuscitate order on file with the nursing home, the clinic, and the hospital. He knew it was his time and didn’t want to drag it out.

3. How comfortable do you want to be? Do you want to be kept out of pain, at all costs, even if it means being drugged into oblivion most of the day? Do you want a feeding tube, or would you rather only receive food and fluids if you are capable of taking them by mouth?

4. How do you want to be treated? Do you want to be allowed to die at home? Do you want people to pray at your bedside, or keep their religious views to yourself? Some people want to be left alone, while others are terrified of dying alone. This wish also covers grooming. Personally, if I soil myself, I’d like to get cleaned up as soon as possible. I’ll have enough to deal with without smelling bad, too.

5. What do you want your family to know? This includes any funeral requests you have and whether you’d like to be cremated, buried, or both, but also goes beyond them. Do you want your family to know that you love them? You can also take this section to ask feuding family members to make peace or ask them to remember your better days, instead of the miserable few at the end.

The last 3 wishes are unique to the Five Wishes document, but they are excellent things to include. The most important part of advanced directive is the advanced part. You have the right to want whatever works for you, but your wishes don’t matter if nobody knows about them.

How about you? Do you have a living will? Does your family know what you want to have happen if the worst happens?

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