December 17, 2010
100,150 pushups completed
899,850 pushups to go
4,038 pushups ahead of schedule
Just passed the 100k mark today! It's on, it's official, there's no turning back now.
The press has picked up my scent:
http://www.mysuburbanlife.com/glenellyn/features/x1714281899/Glen-Ellyn-resident-pushes-a-million?img=1
Peace,
Thunder John
"Bringin' the thunder, packin' the pain, loaded with pushups - makin' it rain"
Friday, December 17, 2010
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Thunder John: Domo Arigoto, Mr. Roboto. "Tuning in Tokyo"
December 6, 2010
96,950 pushups completed
903,050 pushups to go
3,850 pushups ahead of schedule
Sorry I haven’t blogged in a while. I recently returned form a trip to Tokyo. On the surface, this was a business trip. A nice safe business trip. Dig a little deeper and you might find there’s more than meets the eye. But be careful where you dig… you don’t want to get burned by the molten lava.
My flight for Tokyo left at 11:10am on Sunday. Because of the time difference the plane touched down at 4pm… on Monday. I had to figure out how to avoid falling behind in my pushups quest.
First of all, I needed to prepare. I popped in my Rocky IV cassette and played a track aptly titled “Training Montage”. Then it was time for the feats of strength. I attempted not one, not two, but the seldom attempted 3 Adduci kid pushup. Somewhere a chiropractor grinned and felt the urge to finally put the down payment on that boat, but he didn’t know why.
Training accomplished, I did 400 pushups outside the lavatory on the plane. This allowed me to maintain my pace. Crisis Averted.
Now for the real purpose of my trip. I was ready to take on the Beast of the East. Every culturally literate American knows the story of John Henry. He was a steel driving man. In a contest of man vs. machine John Henry drove more railroad spikes from sunup to sundown than a steam powered jackhammer. John Henry became a folk hero, and represents the triumph of the common man over the industrial machines of the late 19th century. The 21st century version of this tall tale involves yours truly.
News travels fast in the world of competitive pushups. I’d heard tale of a Japanese engineered robot. A robot designed to do one thing better than any human: pushups. This could not be! Since the first vacuum tube, punch card and 010011101010101 line of binary code, engineers have striven to create a machine superior to man. The Japanese thought they had finally got it right. It was up to me to show them that this time, Icarus had flown too close to the sun and clip his paraffin wings.
We met at the Tokyo Dome. The Red Giant stood 20 feet tall if it was an inch. Here is a promotional photo from the event: note the sheepish grin on its face, as if the metal colossus could sense his impending defeat. Thunder John? All Business.
The stage was set for a battle of the ages. Toe to Toe we would go, pushup for pushup, until… something happened. The ground rules were not clear regarding how a victor would be declared.
In the end, we settled on a format called a “Free Form Pushup Jam”. As outlined in the Treaty of Poughkeepsie, a “free form pushup jam” can most easily be compared to jazz music. At the starting bell, both contestants begin doing pushups. At some point a victor is declared. What happens in between is uncertain; the only thing for sure is that lady victory would clutch one of us to her ample bosom.
Not since the Bad News Bears visited Japan in “Bad News Bears 3: Breakin’ Training” had the Tokyo Dome seen such palpable excitement. We assumed the classic pushup position as outlined in “A Gentleman’s Guide to Pushups”. Nose to Nose, face to face so that we could stare each other in the eye. It was now, officially, “go time”.
Silence reigned as we waited for the signal to begin. Somewhere a crow rustled his feathers. I thought briefly of my trip to the Wisconsin Dells, then snapped my laser focus back to the task at hand. To win would require the eye of a hawk, the strength of a baboon, the cunning of a mongoose and the focus of a Canon EOS Rebel. Fine camera. Andre Agassi endorsed it so you just know it’s quality. What was I saying again?
At last the starting whistle. The robot jumped out to a quick lead: by noon it had accomplished 10,000 pushups to my 400. The race continued.
How was I ever going to win? The answer was not going to be speed. I had to think… what was the one constant in the universe? And then it hit me: elemtary physics. Energy/Mass is neither created nor destroyed. This robot was consuming energy in order to perform its pushups. At some point, without an infusion of energy, the robot would run out of power. All I had to do was survive in the contest until that happened. The problem was that that may take years and I could only sustain a pushups position for at best, 17 hours.
So I had to speed the process along. The robot had to run out of energy, which with today’s lithium battery technology could take years….or, if I could cause the robot to expend the energy too rapidly… I could cause a fatal overheat! That seemed my best option.
My move was to tap into a strength I’ve been developing since I was a little boy. Growing up with 5 brothers, 7 sisters and a temperamental goldfish I had developed a knack for teasing. I am an expert at assessing an individual, finding their weakness or some personal or physical trait which they are self conscious about, or even some offhand comment or insignificant action and using it to drive them crazy.
• Just ask my brother Tony, whom I’ve called “Duckfoot” since a 5-year old Tony announced that “Duckfoot is my breakdancing name”.
• Or my brother Andy who cannot stand to be called “Randy”.
• Or Tony yet again, who I once caught dancing in front of his mirror air guitaring to Juice Newton’s “Playing with the Queen of Hearts”.
• Even something as simple as my brother Jimmy’s love of purple popsicles combined with a slight speech impediment became fodder ripe for teasing
I am not proud of the trail of tears my teasing has left behind, but this was no time for regrets. It was time to make with the insults.
I started with a softball:
“Hey Gigantor, did you stay up all night dying your undies red?”
The robot shuddered and increased its pace just a little.
“Which one are you, Rock’em or Sock ‘em?”.
The reference to the classic toy was lost on the automaton. Or else he’d heard this one before. Come on Thunder John get your head in the game! I had to try harder.
“Is your mother a parking meter? She gave me two hours for a quarter last night!”
Steam began to rise from where a human would have ears.
“In the Short Circuit movies, Steve Guttenberg was the REAL star! Johnny 5 was not alive!” I’d clearly hit a copper wired nerve with this insult as his pace quickened even more.
“Spectreman was a 90 foot sissy!” One of the worst insults you could make to a Japanese anthropomorph. I decided not to press my luck with a Mighty Morphin Power Rangers reference.
“Your armor is a little spotty… somebody could use a dip into a tub full of TARN-X”
The robot increased its pace, gears whirring and gaskets whizzing until I was nose to nose with just a red blur. No one likes to be tarnished. I was a saint’s whisper from victory; one more insult ought to do it:
“I’ve never recycled!”
That last comment proved too much as the robot exploded in a white hot shower of sparks and plate metal
Foe vanquished, my mission in Tokyo was complete. Homo Sapiens once again stood atop the food chain. Machines would continue to serve Man, at least for another day. Terminator-style Apocalypse averted.. And yes, I even managed to get some work done for my employer.
So that’s plenty for you to chew on. And it was a pretty good story too... parts, anyway. I didn't much care to see that nice robot blow up. But I happen to know that the Japanese are working on a new, better pushup robot that TJ may meet on his next trip to Tokyo.
So, until next time; keep your back straight, your elbows loose, and may your sternum meet the ground on every rep.
Peace out,
Thunder John
“Bringin’ the thunder, packin’ the pain, loaded with pushups, makin’ it rain!”
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lYlkYkHkZxs
xo
96,950 pushups completed
903,050 pushups to go
3,850 pushups ahead of schedule
Sorry I haven’t blogged in a while. I recently returned form a trip to Tokyo. On the surface, this was a business trip. A nice safe business trip. Dig a little deeper and you might find there’s more than meets the eye. But be careful where you dig… you don’t want to get burned by the molten lava.
My flight for Tokyo left at 11:10am on Sunday. Because of the time difference the plane touched down at 4pm… on Monday. I had to figure out how to avoid falling behind in my pushups quest.
First of all, I needed to prepare. I popped in my Rocky IV cassette and played a track aptly titled “Training Montage”. Then it was time for the feats of strength. I attempted not one, not two, but the seldom attempted 3 Adduci kid pushup. Somewhere a chiropractor grinned and felt the urge to finally put the down payment on that boat, but he didn’t know why.
 |
| MOLLY: SNAP THE #@%!@#$& PICTURE!!! |
Now for the real purpose of my trip. I was ready to take on the Beast of the East. Every culturally literate American knows the story of John Henry. He was a steel driving man. In a contest of man vs. machine John Henry drove more railroad spikes from sunup to sundown than a steam powered jackhammer. John Henry became a folk hero, and represents the triumph of the common man over the industrial machines of the late 19th century. The 21st century version of this tall tale involves yours truly.
News travels fast in the world of competitive pushups. I’d heard tale of a Japanese engineered robot. A robot designed to do one thing better than any human: pushups. This could not be! Since the first vacuum tube, punch card and 010011101010101 line of binary code, engineers have striven to create a machine superior to man. The Japanese thought they had finally got it right. It was up to me to show them that this time, Icarus had flown too close to the sun and clip his paraffin wings.
We met at the Tokyo Dome. The Red Giant stood 20 feet tall if it was an inch. Here is a promotional photo from the event: note the sheepish grin on its face, as if the metal colossus could sense his impending defeat. Thunder John? All Business.
 |
| Does the Crowd Understand? Was it East vs. West? Or Man Against Machine? |
The stage was set for a battle of the ages. Toe to Toe we would go, pushup for pushup, until… something happened. The ground rules were not clear regarding how a victor would be declared.
In the end, we settled on a format called a “Free Form Pushup Jam”. As outlined in the Treaty of Poughkeepsie, a “free form pushup jam” can most easily be compared to jazz music. At the starting bell, both contestants begin doing pushups. At some point a victor is declared. What happens in between is uncertain; the only thing for sure is that lady victory would clutch one of us to her ample bosom.
Not since the Bad News Bears visited Japan in “Bad News Bears 3: Breakin’ Training” had the Tokyo Dome seen such palpable excitement. We assumed the classic pushup position as outlined in “A Gentleman’s Guide to Pushups”. Nose to Nose, face to face so that we could stare each other in the eye. It was now, officially, “go time”.
Silence reigned as we waited for the signal to begin. Somewhere a crow rustled his feathers. I thought briefly of my trip to the Wisconsin Dells, then snapped my laser focus back to the task at hand. To win would require the eye of a hawk, the strength of a baboon, the cunning of a mongoose and the focus of a Canon EOS Rebel. Fine camera. Andre Agassi endorsed it so you just know it’s quality. What was I saying again?
At last the starting whistle. The robot jumped out to a quick lead: by noon it had accomplished 10,000 pushups to my 400. The race continued.
How was I ever going to win? The answer was not going to be speed. I had to think… what was the one constant in the universe? And then it hit me: elemtary physics. Energy/Mass is neither created nor destroyed. This robot was consuming energy in order to perform its pushups. At some point, without an infusion of energy, the robot would run out of power. All I had to do was survive in the contest until that happened. The problem was that that may take years and I could only sustain a pushups position for at best, 17 hours.
So I had to speed the process along. The robot had to run out of energy, which with today’s lithium battery technology could take years….or, if I could cause the robot to expend the energy too rapidly… I could cause a fatal overheat! That seemed my best option.
My move was to tap into a strength I’ve been developing since I was a little boy. Growing up with 5 brothers, 7 sisters and a temperamental goldfish I had developed a knack for teasing. I am an expert at assessing an individual, finding their weakness or some personal or physical trait which they are self conscious about, or even some offhand comment or insignificant action and using it to drive them crazy.
• Just ask my brother Tony, whom I’ve called “Duckfoot” since a 5-year old Tony announced that “Duckfoot is my breakdancing name”.
• Or my brother Andy who cannot stand to be called “Randy”.
• Or Tony yet again, who I once caught dancing in front of his mirror air guitaring to Juice Newton’s “Playing with the Queen of Hearts”.
• Even something as simple as my brother Jimmy’s love of purple popsicles combined with a slight speech impediment became fodder ripe for teasing
I am not proud of the trail of tears my teasing has left behind, but this was no time for regrets. It was time to make with the insults.
I started with a softball:
“Hey Gigantor, did you stay up all night dying your undies red?”
The robot shuddered and increased its pace just a little.
“Which one are you, Rock’em or Sock ‘em?”.
The reference to the classic toy was lost on the automaton. Or else he’d heard this one before. Come on Thunder John get your head in the game! I had to try harder.
“Is your mother a parking meter? She gave me two hours for a quarter last night!”
Steam began to rise from where a human would have ears.
“In the Short Circuit movies, Steve Guttenberg was the REAL star! Johnny 5 was not alive!” I’d clearly hit a copper wired nerve with this insult as his pace quickened even more.
“Spectreman was a 90 foot sissy!” One of the worst insults you could make to a Japanese anthropomorph. I decided not to press my luck with a Mighty Morphin Power Rangers reference.
“Your armor is a little spotty… somebody could use a dip into a tub full of TARN-X”
The robot increased its pace, gears whirring and gaskets whizzing until I was nose to nose with just a red blur. No one likes to be tarnished. I was a saint’s whisper from victory; one more insult ought to do it:
“I’ve never recycled!”
That last comment proved too much as the robot exploded in a white hot shower of sparks and plate metal
 |
The robot succumbs to my stone cold needling. Consider your hash settled, Mr. Roboto! (click to enlarge) |
So that’s plenty for you to chew on. And it was a pretty good story too... parts, anyway. I didn't much care to see that nice robot blow up. But I happen to know that the Japanese are working on a new, better pushup robot that TJ may meet on his next trip to Tokyo.
So, until next time; keep your back straight, your elbows loose, and may your sternum meet the ground on every rep.
Peace out,
Thunder John
“Bringin’ the thunder, packin’ the pain, loaded with pushups, makin’ it rain!”
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lYlkYkHkZxs
xo
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