Another Step on the Quest for 4 Wheels

I deadlifted again Tuesday, and just barely... BARELY didn't make 5 reps at 180kg. The temptation to count the last rep and decalre victory is high, but the bar was ripping out of my hand so I couldn't achieve full lockout.

Having smallish hands really hurts my grip strength, I think I might actually have to start working on it specifically. I feel right now this is the major limiting point in my deadlifts.

Here is the video:

If I Make It Out Alive

Update: The rental office was closed and I didn't have any equipment to play. I should get another chance to play soon though.

I just accepted an invite to go play bandy tonight. It is a Scandinavian sport similar to ice hockey, but played on a giant rink with no boards.

I'll take pictures and post about the little adventure. If I survive. Meanwhile, enjoy this youtube clip!

Sledding, Singing, and Slipping

Winter is upon us. I know this because I slipped and fell on my ass yesterday. A woman was walking right next to me, and her hand flew to her mouth with a gasp. Apparently I hit the ground pretty hard, anyone reading this knows how much and how well I fall so obviously I am fine. The sidewalks are absolutely caked in ice at all times, I don't think they've heard of road salt in this country.

I briefly mentioned I was going sledding in Korken the other day before I went. Let me just say it is some of the most fun I have ever had in my life. Flying down a luge track on metal skis is exhilarating and terrifying all at the same time. This is the kind of thing they'd NEVER have in the states due to liability. There are sheer drops, trees, and fences all down the 3 kilometer track. Yes you heard that right, the sled track is 3 KILOMETERS long. Surprising no one that knows me, I went kamikazee down the track: falling off the side several times, completely breaking a fence, smashing into a tree stop and going over it face first, and finally cascading into a jutting rock flying off the sled tumbling end over end. I love spectacular crashes, it is how I'd like to go out at 102.

This fun filled evening nearly didn't occur when we arrived to find the sled rental office closed. Luckily there was more than one way to get ahold of those little metal speed demons. For a while there we thought we might all have to take turns on Maria's sled, which was quite fancy, it even came with a steering wheel. Too much control though, how are you supposed to wipe out in style if you have the ability to actually guide the sled. BORING! A fifteen or so minute hike later and we had our sleds.

After the 2nd or third run we stopped off the side of the track for some snow gløgg. Martin built a fire so we all gathered around warming up, and melting snow to mix the drink. It is basically a form of mulled wine we made from a syrup mix, snow, and a little vodka. This inevitably brought up discussions of going on a friday not rather than a Wednsday, building camp site, a huge fire, and getting completely shit faced. What I am curious about is just how badly I would hurt myself sledding wasted.

The night wrapped up after a couple more trips down. The sleds returned we hopped the train home. This is when the freezing started to set in. We were all cold and wet. Carola took her socks off and her feet were completely white. Chris ended up sitting on the for warmth, the fart jokes quickly followed. I, stupidly, wore jeans and sneakers, both of which were soaking wet. Sitting on the train, not moving around meant that my body wasn't producing any heat, this is when the shivering started. It was ridiculous, I felt like I was sitting on a belt sander. Finally I had to get up and start walking around. I am fortunate hypothermia didn't set in. Lesson for the future... wear waterproof pants.


Friday night was Elisabeth's Julekonsert, a christmas time chorus concert that took place in the church of a mental institution. That last part is especially badass. I met Julie there, and was slightly late. I swear this time it wasn't my fault, I had to wait almost half an hour for the 19 bus. I also found out I prefer chorus in Norwegian and Latin, when you don't understand the words you appreciate the human voice as an instrument more. The singing was fantastic, congratulations on a wonderful show Elisabeth!

I had an iPod scare. I was at the gym when it suddenly stopped working. Luckily a simple reset fixed it without any problems. I would have been very upset if it was compeltely broken. My Mother gave me that iPod.

So Close, Yet So Far

Quick update today about lifting.

I went for a PR(Personal Record) of 180 KG (397 pounds) for 5 reps today. 180kg has been my deadlift goal, and is a number I was hoping to hit by the end of the year. It looks like I should be able to lift it soon even though I only got 3 up.

180kg is important because it marks a 4th "wheel", or 4 of the large plates on either side of the bar (8 total). Also I put on another 2.5kg somehow and am tipping the scales at 106.5kg(235lbs) now. That means I've gained close to 40 pounds in only 3 months without going up even a single belt loop.

Below is a video of the failure.

Give Me the Gold

I'll blog more, I promise. I am a little surprised by the number of people that have scolded me for not posting anything in two months. But this marks a paradigm shift in my blogging, no longer am I only going to post only about important happenings in my life, but now you will be able to read about much, much more.

I have decided to write about all the little piddling crap that no one actually cares about but me, especially lifting. I spend a good bulk of my time and energy training, reading about training, and thinking about training. Other than work (which I can’t really talk about) the biggest happening in my life is lifting. I have avoided posting about it because it seems sort of narcissistic and self congratulatory, but so is a blog, so I am just going with it.

I also spend way, way too much time on the internet. As a result I find lots of funny stuff, especially images and videos. I also want to share those with everyone, so be prepared for assaults from the depths of the internet. As a showing of good faith I offer the following video:



I have no idea if it is real or not, but it sure is damn funny.

As a quick update about something actually happening, this evening I am going sledding in Korketrekkeren (Korken). It is the old Luge track from the 1955 Winter Olympics and is supposed to be about the most badass sledding slope this side of the North Atlantic. The best part is that you take the tube to the top, sled down, and then ride back up! No hiking!



I finally got a new camera to replace my broken one, so I will grab snapshots and maybe a video or two. I will do my best to capture someone wiping out.

I hope this spectacular post makes up for my many weeks of neglect (it doesn’t).

The Night of a Thousand Rains

I am at a point in my life where should I know I suck horribly at following directions. I always listen to some vague description about an area I don't actually know and say to myself, "Meh, I'll find it".

I get invited to a housewarming party. Yay I think, I like people and parties, this will be fun. I take a peak at a map of the area and receive some directions from my gracious hostess. I ask what she needs and I am to bring Soda and Juice.

No problem, I know exactly where the bus stop near her place is, and she tells me it is only about 200 meters from the house. This will be easy. The first ominous sign is that upon stepping out my front door the sky opens up and it begins absolutely POURING. I trudge wetly through the streets and hit the store to pick up 3 liters of soda and 3 liters of juice. For some reason Coke in Norge comes in 1 1/2 liter bottles.

I hop on the bus and get off at the right stop. Alright, now Carola told me to backtrack about 50 meters from the bus stop and turn, then go up the hill. I backtrack about 50 meters, then turn to go down the street and... no hill. Wtf? Shit, why didn't I print the damn map, I must be some sort of idiot. Oh well, he hill must be close, I'll keep looking.

I start walking, and walking AND WALKING. Damn I think, now it is getting hot. But if I open my jacket I'll get soaked. Finally, sweating, I can't stand it and open the jacket. The whole time I just keep moving in concentric circles looking for the damn street.

Nothing. I am getting wetter and wetter and the 6 liters of liquid isn't getting lighter. I keep shifting it from hand to hand. I go back to the bus stop 5 or 6 times trying to figure out where I went wrong. I just can't figure it out. By now an hour has gone by and I am sopping wet.

Finally, it dawns on me... maybe she was thinking of the other bus stop. I cross the huge street and walk down to the bus stop for the line going in the other direction, contiue 50 meters past it, turn right to stare up the long hill she was talking about. Happy I finally fucking found a clue that I am going in the right direction I am haunted by the fact that now I am cold, wet, tired and miserable. I debate just giving up and going home to cry into my juice (well, not really the crying part).

I figure I must almost be there, just like another 150 meters away, right? Wrong. I am going to get Carola a meter stick for her birthday or something because she vastly underestimated how far from the bus stop is from her house is.

Without going into too much detail I spend what must have been almost another hour wandering around THIS neighborhood looking for the right street. I start walking up one final street thinking, "If that street at the end isn't Normangatta I am going home."

Luckily, I didn't have to go home. I found the street and then the warm dry house pretty quickly. And one thing especially made the entire ordeal worthwhile. Well, two things. Firstly there was sushi. LOTS of sushi. And because I was so late Everyone had basically already had their fill. I proceeded to devour salmon rolls like they were going out of style. Mmmmm, good stuff.

Secondly, there were a couple Germans at the party and all of the other Europeans were giving them so much shit for being German. I never heard so many Nazi, Hitler, Holocaust, WW2, gas chamber jabs in my entire life. It was insane. I felt bad for them, it wasn't quite fair. I felt especially bad as Carola is German and she was the one that invited me to the party. I decided it was not a good idea to join in on that part of the revelry. As an American I catch a bit of shit, but not nearly so much.

To cap off the evening I ate more Sushi and then caught the bus home. The End.

Are they slimy?

Ah the joys and perils of different languages. My cousin sent me a message on facebook in Norsk:

God kveld. Lenge siden sist! Det er lenge siden sist vi møttes! Det var lenge siden. Luftputefartøyet mitt er fullt av ål

Now, I actually had a VERY rough idea of what that is supposed to say, but just to be certain I wanted to run it through Google for a translation. I got back MOSTLY what I expected, but I think you'll be able to pick out the surprise. Here is the translation verbatim:

Good evening. Long time no see! It is a long time since we last met! It was long ago. My hovercraft is full of eels.

Vigelandparken, Part One

If there is one thing Norwegians LOVE it is the outdoors on summer days. This past Sunday was bright, clear, warm, and possibly the last one of those for a long while (winter is coming). I decided it was possibly my last good chance to revisit Vigelandparken and take more pictures.

Since it was so nice out i decided to get off the bus early and walk down the street past Majorstuen, which is basically "Central Station" for Oslo. It connects the major transit lines. You can see it is a little busy, but that is mostly because of how nice it was. Sundays are usually much more quiet.

Oslo is a city surrounded by green hills, and it makes for some surprisingly pleasant and unexpected vistas. On the picture of the bus and the road, WAY in the background up on the mountain you can see the Holmenkollen ski jump from the 1952 Winter Olympics. You might have to click and view the larger image in order to spot it. Give it a shot, it is worth the 3 seconds.

Out back where the tracks run is this weird pigeon house thing. It is sitting in this little field cluttered with the dirty little things. Also, they put it next to a bronze statue bust of some guy that is probably important enough to have a bronze statue bust made of him. The joke is on him though, because he will now be covered with pigeon crap for eternity. If I ever get a statue made of me, please shoot all pigeons on sight.

After seeing a kid run and cry while being chased by pigeons I finally moseyed my way down to the park. The facade is this huge set of stone pillars with metal lattice work in between. I took a picture, but it unfortunately didn't come out, I will try to snap another one eventually.

As you step through the gate you look up and the entire park leads up towards a giant obelisk in the distance. The front contains a grassy courtyard the no one was on. I am not certain if it is some rule or custom, but everyone seemed to stick to the paths on either side. As you can tell the entire place is packed to the hilt with people. There are families all over, there is a playground off to the left and strollers are being pushed everywhere. This may seem like an odd point, but you will see in a minute why it probably wouldn't be this way in the States.

After the grassy courtyard there is a statue lined bridge. And here is where the family thing comes into play. The entire bridge is lined with statues of people doing various things that people do; dancing, tossing children, hugging, playing and in general just being people. However, everyone is nude. I think this is actually the thing that really gives the park its charm, the statues tap the deep humanness that we all know instinctively. The people are laughing and smiling, you can't help but smile along with them. It really is a place that brings you simple joy. I also couldn't help but chuckle and thing fondly of the memories that come cascading in when I saw the statues doing things that I fondly remember. Being tossed about by my arms as a child for instance.

I took tons of pictures of the bridge, here are some of my favorite ones:

There is still much more to post and tell about. Stay tuned for Part Two!

It was like that when I got here it really was!

I think the posten is magic, it turned my carboard box into a cardboard ball. When I opened the damn thing all my my stuff had miraculously become dust.

Not really, everything survived the trip MOSTLY intact, although my computer case is rather bent up. Just remember if you ever ship me anything to mark the box "Handle with Care".

Everyone always wants to know how your flight was. Could any question be less interesting? I suppose it is courtesy, but what do you say about sitting on your ass at 30,000 feet for 7 hours? So here is the short of it... I read, I ate, I slept, I watched Crystal Skull, I slept, I watched Prince Caspian, and then I talked to the cute girl next to me for 30 minutes while the flight landed.

Now you might ask yourself (Kris will), "Peter, why did you wait until the last 30 minutes to talk to the cute girl you were sitting next to?" And the answer is... I am an idiot. Nothing more to it than that really.

Then I was in Amsterdam. Everyone has GREAT stories about Amsterdam, I mean, that place is just WILD. Except I spent it all in the airport, so I have nothing. Well, the customs agent said hi, that was pretty exciting.

I did talk to the guy in front of me in the customs line when I heard him mention Rhode Island to someone else. Apparently he lives in Warwick and went to Tollgate High School. I run into people from Warwick wherever I go, including on the Via D.C. trip. I probably ride the bus with someone from Warwick every day and don't even know it.

I arrived in Oslo to great fanfare, there was a 21 gun salute and the Swedish Bikini Team placed a lei around my neck. Why the lei? I don't know, you'll have to ask them.

Erik and Lawrence met me in the terminal, sans bikini (although I've seen evidence that Lawrence may be able to comfortably wear one). I am glad they were there otherwise I might have ended up walking to Funcom.

We ate a strange looking pizza and then I was whisked off to my new home. When Erik gave me the key I naturally assumed we were living in a Medieval Castle.

But that isn't so. It is pretty nice, besides a castle is probably all damp and moldy anyway. The building used to be dorms for factory workers in the '20s that has been converted over into flats. The outside looks pretty nice and there is a grassy courtyard for what I assume are summertime activities (please let sunbathing be an activity). Right now there is work being done on the roof, so I have scaffolding out the window (it's in some of the pictures).

My room is way, WAY bigger than I thought it was going to be, right now it echoes. Hopefully, after I get a p-number and can actually open a bank account I will head over to IKEA and get some furniture. As for now... well what you see is what you get.

That's really it for now. Coming up next episode... Frogner Park!