MBC: The Ongoing Saga

First, news came that MBC was suddenly evicted from their brewery in Webberville.  That was April 25.

But all seemed well, because they had a sweetheart lease deal to move to Fenton to be a part of Fenton's revitalization efforts.  That was April 26.

However, that same day, from a different reporter at LSJ, news came that the deal between the City of Fenton and MBC fell through.

The fate of MBC, and its downtown pub, is still unknown to this blogger.  The downtown pub is still open for business, and still serving beer (though they now won't do growler refills or sell bottles to go); there's still some stock floating around at distributors.

But what about the City of Fenton and their thirst for a brewery?

It's gotten competitive!  Arbor Brewing (Ann Arbor, MI), Royal Oak/Detroit Beer Company (Royal Oak, MI), Clarkston Union (a big high-end like 100-tap beer bar), and Tavern 131 (same kind of thing) have all pitched Fenton for that spot.  Fenton officials will weigh several factors, including how well the candidate has revitalized the town in its current location.  My money's on Arbor/Corner Brewery!

More as I know it!

Also...today's workout of the day - the Helton.
3 rounds, each round consisting of:

• Run 800m
• 30 reps @ 30# dumbbell squat-cleans
• 30 Burpees
• Rest 1 minute

My thighs hurt.  Stairs kinda sucked this morning.

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So Where Was I...

Back to life again.

First, I am doing a saison tasting this weekend, probably Friday or Saturday.  I plan to do a taste comparison between 3 types of my favorite summertime beer, and see which one, completely subjectively, comes out on top.  I've got a big bottle of Avery (Boulder, CO) Eighteen dry-hopped rye saison, a bottle of New Holland (Holland, MI) Golden Cap saison, and a bottle of the classic and original Saison Dupont (Belgium).  If I'm feeling frisky, I might add Ommegang (Cooperstown, NY) Hennepin to the mix.

Given my "I'm being good" diet, I will have to share these big bottles with some willing participants.  And eat mainly spinach salads all day.  Or perhaps some protein shakes.  Oh, the sacrifices I make.

Speaking of diets, I was back to the gym today.  Having the Insanity warm-up and stretching sessions memorized, I plowed into an Insanity warmup to get the heart pumping and the sweat flowing.  I have a new respect and understanding of sweat.  I used to stop at the point where sweat got "too much." Now?  If my shirt isn't see-through-soaked, I didn't work hard enough.

After the warm-up, today's Work Out of the Day (WOD) was the Lumberjack 20:

• 20 deadlifts @ 250#
• Run 400m (I set the pace at 8mph)
• 20 kettlebell swings @ 2 pood (about 70 pounds)
• Run 400m
• 20 overhead squats @ 100# (put 100 on a bench bar, hold it over your head, do 20 squats)
• Run 400m
• 20 Burpees
• Run 400m
• 20 pullups
• Run 400m
• 20 box jumps (24" box)
• Run 400m
• 20 dumbbell squat-cleans @ 45# each dumbbell
• Run 400m

After that, I did 5 minutes of some ab work (leg lifts and obliques), and had a nice stretch.  Was in the gym for a total of an hour, including putting stuff in a locker, getting it out when I was done, a water bottle refill at the drinking fountain, and fucking around getting the weights situated.  We're talking 60 minutes, out of the car, back in the car.  YOU CAN DO THIS, PEOPLE.

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Done, But Not Finished

I have now completed the 63-day Insanity workout.  It was...difficult. Boot Camp difficult.  Brought back some memories of extreme physical exhaustion.

But it also brought back memories of what it was like to achieve.  To persevere.  To push and push, and hit a barrier and push past it.  God damn that feels good.

The result?  24 pounds.  I started a fat-assed 219.  I have finished a slightly-chubby 195!  My goal...where I wanted to be by August - 190 - is a mere 5 pounds away.  I think I can make it.

Jesus, this is nuts.  Shit that hurt to wear last summer fits great.  Shirts hang on me without clinging to my over-extended gut any more.  I spent 2 hours playing football with neighborhood 10 year olds, sprinting like a madman.  6 hours later, I did a 59-minute Insanity workout.  2 hours after that, I was doing high-knee runs and duck walks through a swimming pool for 2 hours playing with my boys.  Folks, I couldn't have done that last summer.  I could have done 30 minutes of one of those.  Not all 3.

The improvement in the murderous "Fit Test" exercises is nothing short of remarkable:

• Switch Kicks (like a karate front-kick, hopping from leg to leg, 2 kicks = 1 rep) - Day 1: 43, Day 63: 70.
• Power Jacks (jumping jacks, but land in a squat and jump up from there) - 42 - 58
• Power Knees (Muay Thai-style ab-centric knee lift) - 62 - 117
• Power Jumps (start in squat, jump up, lifting knees to waist-height, land in squat) - 30 - 58
• Globe Jumps (squat jump right, back, left, forward, all 4 directions = 1 rep) - 9 - 13
• Suicide Jumps (you know this from football) - 20 - 24
• Push-Up Jacks (push ups, but as you go down, spread your legs, as you push up, jump them back together) - 33 - 45
• Low-Plank Oblique (hold a low-plank, lift 1 leg up sideways, bring to your elbow, repeat on the opposite side, 2 crunches = 1 rep) 34 - 51.

Gobs of YouTube vids exist for each of those if you want a visual.  Some folks have better form than others, but you'll get the idea.

You have 1 minute for each exercise, 1 minute rest in between.  Look at that growth!  An look at what it shrank!

I fucking earned this shit.  I feel great.  I feel energetic and powerful.

Now?  6-8 weeks of Crossfit again (which I can hit harder now!), and then maybe P90X or TapoutXT!  I can't be stopped!!

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Bob's First Beer Review: Dogfish Head, Chicory Stout

Things here at aroundthekeg.com have been a little quiet lately, especially for an election year. I guess that is what happens when every one of the contributors here have a pack of kids, many of which under four years of age. We are also remodeling, buying homes, taking on new jobs, and all that stuff. We here still care very much about the politics, we just have a lot less time to bitch about it. We also still drink and brew piles of beer.

Not that long ago....OK it was like months ago....Smitty challenged the crew here at ATK to write more.

He even challenged me to do a beer review. That was pretty intimidating. I have half a nose and sure as hell have not been B.J.C.P. certified.  But, I will give it a whorl. I cannot tell you why a beer is funky, or what brewing method makes it great. But I can give you my opinion and tell you why I like the flavor of the week. Perhaps I will lead you to a new favorite brew, or keep you from wasting 3 bucks on a single microbrew that tastes like unpolished sterling silver. If you disagree, that is cool, let me know in the comments. Beer is as diverse as the people who brew it and we should celebrate it.

I hope you like what I write.

Beer Review:

Dogfish Head, Chicory Stout
5.2% ABV
Milton, Delaware
dogfish.com

Today’s beverage comes to us from the land of the favored state of incorporation, the home of the Biden, and the state that almost elected a witch to the U.S. Senate. It is also home to one of the finest breweries in the country, Dogfish Head. Their Chicory Stout is the first Dogfish I have tried outside of an I.P.A. I love Dogfish Head for their I.P.A.’s and I really don’t normally like I.P.A.’s at all. Their 120 minute I.P.A. is the brew of very special occasions.

What the heck is Chicory? According the Wikipedia, it:

“…is a somewhat woody, perennial herbaceous plant …cultivated for salad leaves, chicons (blanched buds), or for roots (var. sativum), which are baked, ground, and used as a coffee substitute and additive.”

Chicory Stout pours very dark, but not thick, with a quarter-inch thickness coppery-brown head. It has the deep smell of coffee with a sweet smell that makes me think of two sugars in a small cup of Joe. The taste itself isn’t sweet, but definitely like chocolate chips in a glass. You might think of dark chocolate morsels, but without the sugar hit of a Nestle chocolate chip. Instead, this beer has the finer satisfying, very mild aftertaste I associate with dark chocolate after it has melted away. That flavor is quickly washed away and you are left with a clean palate which is a reasonably good thirst quencher for a dark beer. It has a weak carbonation, no alcohol sting and finishes quite dry yet almost watery finish.

I struggled to give a better description of the malt or grains that provide flavors to the beer, but it is just not that complex. It’s a decent beer, but not even as complex or flavorful as some of the better brown ales. If you are a lover of stouts, this is not your stout. It's simplicity makes it OK for drinking two in a sitting.

I liked the beer and would try it again, but for everyone else, I describe it this way: If Guinness is the gateway to good beers, Dogfish Head’s Chicory Stout is one step past the gate. It is a seasonal brew, so get it while you can.

I rate it a 6.5 out of 10.

UPDATE: I would not say a 6.5 should be considered a "D" grade like a 65% would be in geomotery class.  This is Dogfish Head, so they might be graded a bit harsh becuase they make some great beers.

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Robots are Cool.

Freaking Transforming robots. Just awesome.

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Worth Reading Again

Its long, but I bet you relate...

You used to be fearless, but somehow you ended up afraid all of the time.  Afraid of everything and everybody, afraid of change, afraid to hope, and afraid of anybody different, people like me for example.  You live in the freest nation in the world and in a time of nearly unlimited opportunity, you have enough to eat and a warm place to sleep and unfettered access to endless information, you’ve got fresh water and healthcare and a sanitary place to take a shit without it ending up in your food supply and you’ve got all the goddamned guns you can afford. Your worst damned day is better than what ninety percent of the world’s population will ever experience, ever, in their entire miserable short brutal lives.  But you’re still afraid.

Read Stonekettle Station here.

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The Value Of Earning

Where the Hell has Smitty been?

By the gods, if Andy has time to post on this blog, but none of the rest of us, something is really askew.

Well, folks, truth be told, I'm doing a bit of terraforming.  I got sick and tired of being thick and heavy.  218 is fun and all, but I wasn't running after my kids, I was lumbering.  It was time to lose weight.  Time to change my diet.  Time to change my workouts.  Time to feel what it's like to fucking earn something again.

In late January, I started crossfit training and following the Mastering The Zone diet.  I read the Zone book, downloaded on my Nook app, in a weekend.  Easy.  It's a simple way to put proteins and carbs in an equilibrium commensurate with your goals.  Folks, I can eat whatever I want!  It's about portion and focus.  It is simple.  And crossfit?  Hells yes.  Cardio lifting.  Lifting cardio.  It's chock-full of brand new exercises every day you lift.  Nothing's the same.  And people, it is hard.  Hand-stand push-ups.  70-pound kettlebell swings. Suspended push-ups.  Burpees.  On and on, every day, a list of random, difficult exercises meant to push your heart rate high for prologed periods, boost your metabolism, and train your body to meet any physical challenge.  Crossfit reminds me of boot camp, honestly.  Same stuff.

Then, I discovered Insanity.  Holy Thor's Hammer.  It is a 60-day cardio-plyo workout routine.  Jumping, running, push-upping, squatting in an inverted manner from normal exercise routines, i.e. instead of 30 seconds to 1 mintue of intense training followed by 2-3 minutes of rest, it's the opposite.  Heart rate at 170 for 3 minutes, 30 seconds rest.  Repeat for 40 minutes.  28 days of phase 1, 6 days of some yoga, 28 days of phase 2.  I am currently in my last week of phase 1.  It remains as it started:  a bitch.  I can just do more and last longer each time.

Odin's eyeball, I feel good.  I have lost 12 pounds.  12 pounds!  I have 10 more pounds to go.  Eating right, in perfect proportion, and exercising the way I am, I feel energetic.  Folks, I no longer want a nap at 2:30 in the afternoon.  I want to run a dead fucking sprint around downtown Lansing.  I like to race the elevator in buildings now.  I have all this energy now.  I smile when it's time to pop in the Insanity DVD.  It's gonna hurt but man I eat it up and laugh when I'm panting on the floor.  I got sick with a cold last week; at my worst, I still had more energy than my colleagues did after a day of rest.  When someone asks me how I feel, I want to go all Marine on them: I want to grab them by the lapels and scream in their faces AAAAAAAAAAAH!  Which is Marine for "I feel really good, thanks."

Do I still drink beer? Of fucking course.  I just know it, and mod my diet as I need to to make it fit.  Steak?  Burgers?  Yeah!  This ain't all rabbit food and fucking salmon, folks.  But it is healthy choices.

And honestly, after nearly 8 weeks of eating right...i don't even want to eat like a fucking asshole anymore.  I don't.  I don't miss burgers-and-fries every fucking day, because now it makes me feel like shit. Maybe once in a while as a reward, I'l do it.  I'l take part of the bun off.  Whatever.  I'll have steak this weekend, but for Loki's wings, I don't need all 16 ounces!  I. Don't.  Miss it.  And people...I feel better than I have in a decade.  Weight is sloughing off of me.  My energy is starting to annoy Mrs. Smitty.  My kids eat it UP.

And folks, I feel like I am earning something again.  Just today, I passed a TV with CNN on, and they were discussing this stupid asshole new diet where people feed themselves via a feeding tube for 10 days t lose weight.

That is fucking asshole bullshit.  They'll gain it back.  Unsustainable.  But me?  Fuck that.  Every fucking pound has sweat and discipline behind it.  Every pound was earned and I ain't done earning yet.  Just like boot camp:  my boots, my cammies, my uniforms, my haircuts, my pride, my strength, my new identity...each piece of what eventually made me a Marine was earned week by week through sweat and discipline.  I lost that feeling.  I was pathetic.  I looked for excuses to be tired and grumpy and lazy.  Eating poorly and acting like an entitled asshole became crutches.

No.  More.

Now my body and mind remember.  They remember discipline and pain and breakthrough.  And they love it.  I love it.

You'll notice a slew of norse pantheon references.  Why?

Because I feel like a fucking Viking.  Eating right, searingly-difficult exercises...I want to wear a horned helmet and bash things with an axe.  People, I'm a dinosaur. Rawr.  Teeth.  Stomp around, eat a small mammal.  Wear a horned helmet, smash with axe.  I'm a Viking dinosaur.  Rawr.  AAAAAH!

How abut YOU?  Do you want to be a dinsosaur?  Do YOU want to be a VIKING??  DO YOU WANT TO BE A VIKING DINOSAUR??

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