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The Missouri USAPL Presents... |
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| Take a trip with us down memory lane to the old school of lifting. This is a place where time stands still and the legends of lifting never die. This is Wally Strosnider's place, where he will be posting columns periodically on the history of the iron game in our area. So sit back and enjoy the rich tradition offered each month at Wally's place. |
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NEVER TRUST A BALD BARBER |
So, you're going to squat. I'd like to offer some advice. Before you even get under a bar, observe some experienced squatters in action. Watch everything. Observe the squatter, but also learn the role that training partners play.
Keep your eyes and ears open. You may be fortunate enough to overhear some really helpful advice. For example, just the other day I heard Luke offering some sage advice to a fellow lifter. "I find squats are more enjoyable and much safer if I never actually take the weight out of the rack". Now this is something you're not going to read in your "Muscle and Fitness". I mean, this is knowledge that comes from experience.
Speaking of squatting experience, I've been told that I'm built like an improper fraction. I've got two things to say about that. One - powerlifters can be very cruel. Two - I guess I can see maybe just a grain of truth in that statement. So don't follow me around waiting for me to squat. Thank goodness you don't have only me to watch. We in the St. Louis area are fortunate to have many great squatters for you to observe, so go where the big iron is being lifted.
Where is that? Just ask around. Check out the local gyms. If you see mirrors, chrome, spandex or a mop and bucket, you are in the wrong place. Follow your nose. Sweat, ammonia, chalk - you're there.
The hard core squatting gym looks like the railroad graveyard - a place where old locomotives have gone to die. All that is left is huge rusty iron wheels and massive chunks of angle iron. Towering in the midst of all this old worn iron is the Power Rack. The rack is named after a medieval instrument of torture. You'll be seeing it in action, so there is no need to expound further.
What may frighten the uninitiated is the way the bar bends. When you have weight equivalent to a Ford Supercab pickup on each side, the bar is looking like the St. Louis Arch. Don't worry; this is a special power bar. This very expensive, very strong bar is designed to withstand incredible strain and then snap back as good as new and perfectly straight. It was designed to withstand this punishment. Just exactly the way your own bones weren't.
There will be a tender heartwarming moment when you will realize what big softies these hulking brutes are. These powerlifters will pull their little kids little lifting outfits from their gym bags. And these big burly lifters will pass these tiny little bits of lifting suits around in their big calloused hands, admiring them and praising them to each other. You look around wondering where their little tykes are. Then, and no I'm not kidding, you see these big lifters trying to fit into a lifting singlet that would be tight on an anorexic supermodel. Two, three, four people are pinching, pulling, powdering, and prodding a body that can't fit into a compact car, stuffing it into a squatting suit that could be packed away in a match box.
Next, if you can imagine the Incredible Hulk wrapping a mummy with all his strength, you can imagine what is in store for the lifters knees. Special power wraps, yards of an incredibly thick elastic bandage are used to constrict the lifters knees until you are sure no force on earth could ever make these joints bend.
As any powerlifter will tell you - the knee wraps and the suit are to protect you. This is true. You must realize your blood is full of lactic acid, tons of bacteria, gallons of alcohol, caffeine, nicotine and other matter hazardous to your well being. The suit and wraps protect you by not allowing one drop of this dangerous fluid to circulate.
Still not fully protected, the lifter next girds his loins with a lifting belt. He braces himself against an upright of a nearby Universal Machine. Massive thighs spread, death grip on the upright he stands like a modern day Colossus. His training partner, a giant of a man himself, pulls on the tongue of the biggest heaviest belt you've ever laid eyes on. He's pulling the belt, dragging the Colossus and the Universal Machine across the gym floor. Once the lifter comes as close as possible to Scarlett O'Hara's wasp like waist, another training partner manages to buckle the belt.
The lifter is now fully protected. The suit and wraps have halted the potential danger of circulation, and now the belt is protecting the lifter from inhaling any air borne pollutants. Now, if he can't inhale any St. Louis smog, what about oxygen? I mean this man hasn't taken a full breath since getting squeezed in the lifting suit and now this 2 foot long belt is encircling his once massive girth. How can he possibly survive? He is evidently worried about the same thing, 'cause he's just grabbed an ammonia popper and somehow his mighty lungs have sucked the popper dry.
Snorting and coughing, throwing the popper to the floor, reddened eyes streaming tears, reddened nose streaming... uh...streaming, the lifter manages to approach the bar by using an odd, straight legged, hopping shuffle.
Watch carefully. The lifter will shoulder this immense weight, the bar bending around his neck like a horse collar. Trembling under more weight than a mere mortal should ever bear, he gets set; he seems to grow larger and more powerful by the second. Arms, face and neck are sprouting veins so large it looks as if he's been main-lining Cheeze Whiz.
Slowly, with perfect control, he descends, and descends, and ... descends. And still a little lower ... and lower still. Then defying belief he starts up! The effort is so great he seems to suck the very air out of the gym. Never have you seen such determination, such fortitude, such effort.
With the weight back in the rack, training partners scurry around like an Indy pit crew. They remove the belt, un-wrap the knees, pull the lifter's straps down, and check for vital signs. Bruised and breathless the lifter collapses on a nearby bench, crushing a body builder by accident (but it is a body builder... who cares?).
This has been an awesome display. What can motivate such an effort? He does it to win the praise of his fellow lifters - for who else could ever understand what he has just done? Now here comes the payoff - the approval, no the adulation of his powerlifting comrades. He turns to the Alpha male of the gym and asks "how was that squat?" The Alpha male replies "Shit. 'Bout 3 inches high. You gonna squat - you gotta learn to break parallel".
If you are thinkin' of squatting, I hope you have watched everything very carefully. As I said at the beginning of all this, if you think you want to squat, watch a good squatter in action. Watch everything everyone does. Watch and learn. Watch, but under no circumstances should you EVER attempt squatting yourself.
Now, if all I've written hasn't managed to deter you from squatting and you have foolishly done them, you are now wracked with pain. With every movement sore muscles send jolts of pain to punish you for your foolishness. This is a level of pain that could be likened to the pain of, say, using a large ball peen hammer to drive dozens of 10 penny nails into your thighs.
I am considering a follow-up article that will teach you how to do this activity more safely and less painfully. With proper conditioning, nutrition, warm-up, stretches and massage, this can become enjoyable, some even say 'fun'.
At this point, of course, I am talking about driving nails into your thighs with a big ball peen hammer. Squats shall always remain pure agony.
More power to you,
Wally
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Past Articles From Wally:
Ed Zercher
Ab Training
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