Has there ever been a more reprehensible dink than Lance Armstrong? The man bashed a Jeep Wrangler and a Toyota 4Runner, both parked, in an SUV - and let his girlfriend take the rap to avoid bad publicity. Truly, Armstrong has not learned a darn thing from his sordid cycling sins of cheating, lying, and conspiring.

The media, collectively, and in actuality, would have had a hernia if he had been honest.

And why should Lance have worried about being panned in print and torn apart on TV? President Barack Obama will lie to your face and tell you that you can keep your health plan – and he doesn’t sweat the fact that he repeated this lie many times, and the press got on his case, so why should Lance care about his lousy driving being fussed about? Granted, Barack is just a Pinocchio politician while Lance was a celebrated cyclist, but still. Besides, the American people can be very forgiving if one who errs, shows contrition and regret. The only thing Lance has shown, besides the uncanny ability to prevaricate while wearing a perfectly straight face is self-pity: everybody and their dog were doping, so why shouldn’t I?

Lance has 15 fans, including some family members. If pie-eyed drunk, they’ll admit to being so, and also point out that he was a darn good cyclist, who survived testicular cancer, and who then created the Livestrong Foundation to help others in their fight against cancers. They’ll add he’s an author (but imagine their surprise, thinking they were buying non-fiction as opposed to works-of-jerk fiction.)

Where were we? Oh, yes, now how about the girlfriend? Anna Hansen and Lance have been at it hot and heavy since 2008. 2008, as you may recall, was well before his inflated sense of self worth blew up and left him flattened on the road of public opinion. So she might have been impressed, then, with his song and dance. But now, she seems to have caught his disease of deception. Police records indicate she said she was Armstrong’s wife.

So Armstrong, instead of causing others around him to elevate their games, seems to cause others to lower theirs to ones of dishonesty and dishonor. Why would Hansen agree to such a canard? What does she get out of this?

 Perhaps the question should be: why can’t she get out of this? She might love the guy. Stranger things have not happened but hey, there’s a first time for every foible-thing. They have made two kids, a son Max, and a daughter Olivia Marie. They might keep her leashed to Lance. She rationalized her part, saying their family name had been smeared “over every paper in the world…”

Apart from the fact that this is a patently untrue statement (although her assertion is a small-potatoes-nothing-to-see-here-lie compared to Lance’s whoppers) even if the media had done a hatchet job on Lance, why would this have happened? It could not be because he played the media for fools and lied like crazy for years on end, could it?

Lance obviously has scrambled eggs for brains and a fried driving technique as well, but let’s deal with the brains part, for we all have driven terribly. If he had taken ownership of his car calamities he just might have, as mentioned, garnered some heartfelt sympathy.

“Look at poor Lance. His life is so upended he can’t even drive. Man, has he fallen. Hope he gets a break, gets some help.”

But, instead, with his tossing of responsibility, honesty, and civility out the window, he only invokes malice, with his name plastered and lampooned world-wide anyway.

Good move, good call.

And you know what? Honesty pays. Because Anna fessed up she won’t be prosecuted. But liar Lance pled guilty and paid court costs and a fine of $238.50 – he got off easy financially…

Now was booze a factor? Hard to say. With Anna being the front man-person in this charade, police couldn’t or didn’t question Lance after the accidents. So they could not tell if he was sloshed. She says he had “...a little bit to drink.” A little bit sounds a bit fishy. Normally if one hits a car, one stops driving. They don’t press on, waiting to see what’s behind door number 2. But perhaps Lance and Anna weren’t aware they hit the first car – which would lead one to think – if that were true – that they were immune to sound and shock effect. Perhaps they were culturally blown away from the December 28th Aspen museum-art party they came from. (Incredibly, Lance is an honorary trustee of the museum. Perhaps museums don’t get out a lot, read the news...)

Not that we should really care, but for those 15 fans that do, where on earth does Lance go from here to rehabilitate his image, reputation, life? Should he go to ethics classes, learn some A-B-C’s of do’s and don’ts? At 43, he may be too old to learn new tricks but surely he must try to attain some inner morality so he doesn’t careen off the road of life, literally and metaphorically

Does he have a drinking problem, generally? The valet at the museum told police Lance “was not stumbling...” Bumbling, mumbling, slurring, hurling - who knows – the valet said he didn’t get close enough to Lance to tell...

To tell it like it is, about the only truthful remark from Lance this past 43 years is his admission that he’d probably cheat again, if it were 1995, given the chance.

And about the only good thing about his latest crashcapade, this: Tour-de-Fib Fender Bender - is that his kids, as they grow older, may rebel against Dad (as kids are wont to do) and  become honest, fair, ethical citizens.

 

 

HIIT me. HIIT me harder. And HIIT YOU too. Because that’ll get the best bang for your time with fitness. High intensity interval training (HITT) is the fave for 2015. In as little as 20 minutes one can change body shape and feel energized after a workout of high intensity movements, followed by brief periods of rest. Maureen Hagan, canfitpro Director of Education, says: “It’s fast, you see results quickly...”

Or, as Sean Bartram, HIIT author, puts it: the appropriate level of intensity would be just below the energy exerted while “…being chased by a rabid dog.”

For the befuddled laze-about layman, please don’t get confused and confuse high intensity interval training with boot camps or circuit training because they are different. Vastly different. They are marketed differently. Their names are different.

But each, funnily enough, works the body in essentially the same way.

Each does lots of cardio, strength, and motion stuff - with a few seconds to either catch your breath or pass out.

Just kidding about the catching of one’s breath. That never, from what a colleague - who subjects herself to these ordeals regularly - told me - happens. But neither does passing out - and that doesn't happen because individuals in group classes are too self-conscious to go unconscious. Boot camps, the colleague adds, are basically unmitigated hell. She dreads going every time. But she goes anyway.

Why?

Because she dropped 75 pounds in 10 months – probably losing some of that from tossing and turning in bed at night, fearing (and psyching up for) the next class,  and the rest from the actual exertions in class that next day.

Her mood has improved greatly too. Before HIIT, her five-year-old niece told her: “You’re fat!” Our HIIT heroine was sorely tempted to come back with: “Oh yeah, well, there is no Santa Claus!”

Got a bit off track…

Back on the beam. The whole idea behind high intensity interval training is that as you move and sweat, with little rest, you suffer a deficiency of oxygen. Assuming you survive – and you go about your normal business afterwards, your metabolism is functioning at a much higher rate as your body undergoes the old EPOC.

What is EPOC? Excess post-exercise oxygen consumption. Your body is adding back oxygen to pay back the debt/deficiency courtesy of that HIIT workout.

Let’s dig deeper into this. Have you heard of the “Tabata Protocol”? No, it’s not a best-selling spy thriller international domination book, it is a 20 second, 10 second thing. You go like crazy for 20 seconds, then rest for 10, for 8 interval exercises. Pick your poison for the 8. But, seriously,  don’t do this tabata routine until you’ve worked up to it. Gradually. At your pace of measured improvement. No need to blow a gasket and have a heart attack is there? All of this stuff is to get you healthy, not leave you looking fine and healthy in an open casket.

During that 20 seconds you may do kettlebell exercises, toss a 12 lb medicine ball, take a sledgehammer to a tire (not someone’s “spare tire”) but to a real tire – fourth tire - from a now three-tired truck. You may do pushups. Or wind sprints. You get the idea – activities incorporating lots of muscles in many movements.

For me, my favorite high intensity bit is to use the Jacobs Ladder. It’s a low-impact treadmill climber that won’t jar your joints. It’s self paced. The faster you step, the faster the non-motorized contraption goes. (I can’t do all that stepping and jumping stuff because my ankles and lower back are like fine china, ready to break and destruct in seconds.) Nevertheless, the Jacobs Ladder has a high-impact effect. It can have you gasping for air in as little as 30 seconds. I am too much of a wimp to go the gasping route – I’ll go as far as heavy-petting panting. You must find your own level of oxygen depletion acceptance. If you are on the safe side of 50, perhaps gasping is good. If you are on the sad side of 50 – the safe side of 100 (like me)  – perhaps it is not.

The results of such exertions: you’ll add lean muscle mass. You’ll strengthen the heart. Your recovery periods will shorten. And you’ll notice the difference when you hit the dance floor at that next bash/party/fest. You’ll be able to cut a rug – doing the twist, pirouette, and do other stuff you haven’t tried since your teenage days, or since you were last pie-eyed and blotto.

With HIIT under your belt, it will make it less likely that a few belts of booze – which always induces whirlwind dervish dancing – will lead to injury. HIIT will lessen harm and hurt because you’ll have stamina and strength – and probably some new stretching capacity. With the confidence from HIIT you’ll be a dynamo either dancing sober, or a wee bit sloshed. You’ll have more fun dancing - and that’s an extra workout you’ve just tallied.

HIIT will lead you to do other fun things safely and surely. Like horseback riding, floor hockey, cycling, golfing – you name it

So this hard-core conditioning, whether through high intensity interval training, circuit training, or boot camp training, will boost alertness, bring back happiness and fire up our aforementioned confidence. Not a misplaced - full of BS - confidence but a learned, earned, and deserved confidence.

That’s healthy in and of itself. HIITS all ‘round.

 

Tiger Woods, Marty McFly, going “Back to the Future” isn’t working. He just announced he’s leaving the tour.

Here’s the background.

He switched swing coaches for the umpteenth – or at least fourth time, but with a wrinkle. He’s going back to his original swing when he was a young man, a swing with more flow and less rigidity. Tiger’s “Doc” Brown is a chap named Chris Como. But know he’s Tiger’s swing consultant, not coach.

Ok, then.

Trevor Immelman, 2008 Masters winner, also works with Como.   The South African, and winner of the 2008 Masters (by three shots over Tiger) has been going through a dry-spell of late, largely due to a wrecked left wrist, and lauds Como as a bright guy - who’s not a know it all. Golf Digest named the golfing bio-mechanics guru as one of the best young coaches going...He had better be, he charges $1,500 for a half-day’s teaching.

But is Tiger making a mistake going with Como and changing up his swing, yet again? Really, is it wise or worthy for Tiger to try copying his swing from 1997? That’s 18 years ago. The body stiffens with age and is more susceptible to injury – especially when trying to replicate actions and exertions of nearly two decades past. Tiger’s back has been giving him flack, thanks to a lumbar disc herniation. The cause: repetitive strain. Granted, he had a microdiscectomy done to fix that – but when he tries to swing right out of his shoes (don’t kids get excited and try to do that at times?) that’ll hurt. Also, as one ages, though strength sticks around, flexibility and range dissipate. (That stiffening we talked about.) Tiger’s torque could wind up leaving him unwound and bound for medical care once again. Old coach Butch Harmon thinks Tiger’s swinging way too hard…

There is one bright spot. Physical therapist, Mo Skelton, thinks if Tiger, already a strong guy, works on strengthening, amongst other things, his Erector Spinae muscles – which are, in fact, three muscles that run vertical from the waist to the upper back, his recovery just might be successful.

No guarantees though. Undoubtedly Tiger has the best “physio” advice money can buy, but no expert can reduce his aging process. The mind might be willing – but the body? Not so much.

Time will tell, and it’s telling us Tiger’s golf is, well, hell. He completely screwed the pooch at the Phoenix Open, shooting a second round 82 – his worst score as a pro. He had a full repertoire of shots – all lousy. In his next tournament, the Farmers Insurance Open at Torrey Pines, his back flared up because his glutes didn’t “activate.” He had to quit after 11 holes. In the first round. He even has the “chip yips.”

World Golf Rankings has him 62nd best – another worst score as a pro.

So far, for starters, if he can get his glute-bum muscles on fire (a weird visual to be sure – and perhaps such a phenomenon was put to bed when he finished up with his extra-marital partners) Tiger’s probably going to have to settle for a hybrid between the swing of his youth, and his previous-most-recent swing, developed with Sean Foley – and being in the middle of two of anything, let alone swings, usually means one will either be squashed or pulled apart.

Golf Channel commentator, Brandel Chamblee pulls apart the highlights and lowlights of Como, Foley, Haney, and Harmon. (Sounds like a law firm, doesn’t it?) He sees promise in Como’s emphasis on athleticism for the swing, but is not impressed with Como’s results with not-exactly-household-name pros, Aaron Baddeley, Jamie Lovemark, and Richard Lee. But Chamblee was sure no fan of Tiger’s golf swing with its “forward-shaft lean” (pre Como obviously) in 2014, feeling it was detracting from his game – and aggravating his back.

Yet, in some ways, what Tiger is doing is worthy of admiration. The guy’s always looking to improve and is, apparently, never satisfied with past results and laurels. This is a strength – but it’s a weakness, particularly if his head gets all mixed up with the theories and practical applications of four different swings swirling in his head – as he’s teeing off. He must wonder, too, if he came back from his back surgery too soon. He was off for four months. Golf analyst Frank Nobilo stresses that pro Graham DeLaet took ten months to “get over it...” And Graham describes his pinched nerve in the back as “...the worst pain in my life...” (DeLaet also wonders if he’ll ever be 100% again – and he had his surgery done when he was ten years younger than Woods was for his.)

Tiger turned 39 in December of 2014. He’s got to win at least one major this year to keep on track to at least tie Jack Nicklaus’s record of 18 major victories. Jack thinks Tiger can beat his record – if he’s healthy. Will Chris Como’s new swing stresses help in that? Tiger has deemed his swing of 1997 as they way he wants to go. So both consultant and player are in sync. That’s huge.  But Golf Digest contributor Luke Kerr-Dineen points out – from Tiger’s own words – that Tiger harshly critiqued his 1997 Masters winning swing – back in 1997! Maybe absence – for an old flame and an old swing - does make the heart grow fonder...

As we watch and ponder Tiger’s predicament let’s take some of his doings, philosophically at least, to heart. We should negate complacency and self-satisfaction. We should realize that while perfection isn’t possible, a near perfection of striving should be in our golf bags of life. Let’s aim high. Let’s see what kind of “scores” we reap.


Or we can say, screw that, and just sit back and watch the Tiger-Como swing show.

Oops. No.

Right now, it’s a no-go: Tiger just announced he’s leaving the tour…to shape up shoddy swings and things.

Forget Obama, forget Putin, fret not about North Korea - for all is well and swell. Long John Daly, the Golden Lion, is King of the Beasts again. He has won his first tournament in 10 years.
In Turkey of all places. In a 54-hole ordeal called the Beko Classic. It’s a real tournament, with real professional players, approved by Europe’s real PGA, even if Daly’s purse was an unreal $8,000. Daly said “a win’s a win...” and he’s bang on there. 

And for him, this Turkish tournament was bang on too. He lauded the old course (but he played well on the new course also) saying the old set up well for his “full” shots. He talked of the victory as a confidence builder, though if these garishly patterned, grossly colored golfing slacks were what he wore, confidence may not be his biggest problem. 

Clothing choices? Could be.

Scratch that last comment. No, amplify it. His website features a LOUD MOUTH CLOTHING section with logoed pants so ugly, so tasteless, so cool, and so original the whole collection should be either decorated and set in the Smithsonian or desecrated and dumped in the sewer.  

Back to John. Granted, he was flush with a win, but his interview seemed to show a man no longer wrestling with demons of drink, for example. He seemed at peace with himself – no easy task, given that he admits to having “5,000 addictions.” Heck, it’s a rare clip when he doesn't have a cigarette in mouth or hand. Perhaps, even for the California born, now Arkansas resident Daly, age is a friend in wrestling and pinning down wayward ways.  We don’t want Daly to shut his mouth – he is refreshingly candid, but he might want to think about shutting his wallet. He’s also remarkably candid in sharing stories of his gambling wins, AND LOSSES.

 He lost as much as $55 to $57 million in gambling, mostly by playing blackjack. Seven hands at once. Worth $5-$10-$15 thousand per hand. Over a day, say. Or he’d do the one-armed bandit deal – the $5,000 one pull, one coin, slot machines in two days, say. He kept this up for about sixteen years and reckoned he frittered away, though he says he had fun doing it, $3.1 to $3.2 million per year. Hope the pants are selling well... 

But he’s got more than bloody-ugly pants for sale.  He’s a service guy, having designed at least six golf courses. One, called the Sevillano Links & Rolling Hills Casino course was praised by Golf Week Magazine. Another, called the Lion’s Den in Dardanelle, Arkansas was also owned by the blonde bomber. Unfortunately it had to be put up for sale, not enough members. So, apparently, it’s strictly a one day, one course, up and down and all around recovery pattern for John Daly in this facet of life too.

There is no denying, however, that in the facet of strictly playing golf, in an unrestricted manner, that John’s game was, and now of late is, complete - and a complete joy to behold. We all marveled at how his driver on the backswing would go past parallel to the ground. But he had a fine short game that was, not surprisingly, often overlooked as people couldn’t get past the cannonading tee shots. Anyone who can win two majors – the PGA and the British Open - in his case - has what it takes.

Now what about this Beko Classic? It was played on the Gloria Golf Resort. That’s the sea resort city of Antalya. This part of Turkey is known as the Turkish Riviera, what with its 400 miles of beaches. Certainly the river of golf success flowed well for John: in his second round he shot a 63. He likens the weather to that of Palm Springs. And like Palm Springs, Turkey in Antalya, and in the nearby township of Belek, has focused on building golf courses to draw visitors in. John, no doubt, will be going back (and the 48-year old is looking forward to his 50th birthday – for then he’ll be eligible for the PGA Champions Tour.)

And he’s going back to marriage too. He’s going to marry his caddy. Anna Cladakis will be his fifth wife. Practice makes perfect. She’s a brunette. She also doesn't lack for, ahem, taste. The skirts she wears while carrying John’s bag are as ugly as his pants. This marriage might work.

John’s life in and outside of golf can be summed up in a three word ditty: Hit it hard. He thinks so too, so much so that he’s recorded a song called: Hit it Hard. His voice isn’t bad, especially when he’s belting out the tunes. When the beat slows down, his voice suffers, but we don’t mind, for in watching, and now listening to John, we aren't looking for prettiness, but grittiness. Don’t know if he wrote the lyrics but they’re catchy. No laying up, no holding back. Kept taking chances, living large – that’s our watchable, irresistible, John Daly - 

to a Tee.