This time and place...

So many random actions brought me to where I am today. Mostly, I hold Jeff Martone responsible.
Back in early 2007 I bought Hand 2 Hand kettlebells off of Jeff's Tactical Athelte site. I was particularly interested in his pull up combinations. So I was banging out all these weird moves jumping up into pull ups in-between when- Snap! I tore a tendon in my right hand. I wouldn't say I'm tough as much as dumb and proud, so of course I tried to walk it off despite the agonizing pain.
Then troop surge came, I got a phone call, and then I'm at Camp Roberts CA in the 143rd Task Force with a one way ticket to LSA Anaconda Iraq, otherwise known as Mortar-ita-ville. I'm not kidding.
I try to avoid griping too much, so there I am rocking out at Camp Roberts, eating two hot dogs a day from the base vendor because the food sucks so bad, trying to ignore the finger which is quickly becoming my entire hand.
So I go on an assault course and pull a shoulder roll straight out of a John Woo movie and slam that same finger. Snap!
Now it's serious. Problem is that the unit had more than enough soldiers, so they've been cutting loose anyone who steps forward with a hang nail, and by the time they realize they're running short, it's too late. Now no one leaves.
So I make it all the way to Pre-Dep in Fort Dix New Jersey. Remember the story about the terrorist wannabes plotting to attack Ft. Dix? Yeah, that was right before I left for Ft. Dix.
So I'm rolling through medical screening when I get pulled. Long story short, I'm back on a plain to CA. That's fine with me. I'm in no hurry to make friends with an IED. Going to Kosovo in '99 was annoying enough.
So I'm back in SF. No money, no place to live, no job, nothing. Shortly I'm training clients in the park that I've recruited off of Craig's List with a beat up 16 kilo kettlebell and bodyweight exercises. Gradually I get a few clients back from my Equinox days, but for the most part I'm just rebuilding. I'm couch surfing, training in the park, but I'm not getting shot at, so...
I order more kettlebells. I recruit more clients. I find a dance studio in Mountain View that will let me train there durin goff hours. I'm driving around with a car full of kettlebells and a wallet full of nothing. I am working 18 hours a day all told and trying to figure out exactly where this is going. I know I don't want to go train in a 'by the hour' personal training gym. No hit on those cats, it's just not my thing. I need a home. A couple people step forward and generously offer to bankroll my facility. That's awesome, but I really need to make a strong effort to do this on my own.
ONe day a client and friend Cindy Glass RKC tells me that Mark Reifkind told her to have me contact him regarding training at Girya.
Wow, there's two guys around here named Mark Reifkind who have a training facility called 'GIrya'? Because I know it's not the Senior RKC who tortures people on the foam rollers.
Oh, but it is.
Then I'm training at Girya. Then I'm assisting Rif at a Kettlebell workshop at Axis Personal Training.
Then the other day I order a book from the Diesel Crew and Jedd Johnson compliments my website and links my blog. Check it out.
Hey, to me that's like finding your name in the liner notes of a Pantera CD.
So here I am, and it keeps getting better everyday.
Thanks Jeff. Oh, and Vanessa, Cindy, Rif, Tracy, Joe, Bert, Todd, Jedd, and everyone else involved who I may have forgotten.
The below shot is from Camp Roberts in 2007. Obviously having a ball.