Why You Should Drink 8 Cups Of Water A Day

If you're like me, you've probably wondered to yourself, "hmm, how much urine does the average DFM excretes in a day?" Well, wonder no more, as I, DFM, brings you yet another fact you probably didn't know you really wanted to know.

My experiment started one night in Korea, when the one bathroom my room mates and I shared was occupied. I just could not wait, so I grabbed an empty bottle of water I had in my room and relived myself.

The next morning I woke up and the bathroom was occupied yet again. I thought, "well, I haven't emptied this water bottle yet, so why not?"

It turned out that on this day I was just too lazy to leave my room, and so I ended up using the bottle many more times. Just 18 hours after my original usage of the bottle I stopped my experiment. The results speak for themselves:

There you have it, the answer to your question: The average DFM excretes 2 Litres of urine in a day (perhaps more). And less you think I loaded myself up with water for this experiment, just look at the colour of the bottle - I wasn't exactly hyper-hydrated. This is why it is recommended you drink 8 cups of water a day (2 Litres).

Can You Achieve Fitness Success Working Out Just One Minute A Day?

There seem to be two schools of thought when it comes to training: An “old” school of training, in which you go to failure on every set as often as possible, and an even older school of training that championed a more moderate-intensity workout done more frequently. I’m not sure why or how, but somehow this system of moderation got pushed out of the public conscious in the past forty years or so, but fortunately was not completely forgotten.

While visiting South Korea for two months back in March and April of last year, I developed a serious shoulder injury, ironically, from doing too much climbing (a pulling movement), and not enough chest and shoulder exercise (pushing). After spending all summer slowly rehabbing to the point where I could do more than a single push-up without my shoulder screaming at me in pain, I was determined not to let such a serious injury befall me again if I could help it.

While I knew I would be too busy to partake in a serious body weight training regimen during this latest trip to Korea, I remembered the advice of Matt Furey (he was relatively popular a few years ago for a body weight training system he was trying to sell called Combat Conditioning) that instead of trying to go from zero to hero, a new trainee should just try to work out for “one minute a day," This is where my big experiment got its start.

Taking from the idea that weight training exercise done for shorter periods, but with more frequency is, is more effective than longer bouts of exercise, done less frequently (more on this concept in a future post), I decided that I would endeavour to do just one set of sub-maximal push-ups per day, every day, for the remainder of my stay in Korea – about four and a half months.

I chose to use the same type of push-up each workout, and during each test, so that my experiment would remain at least somewhat scientific. The type of push-up I chose involved having the hands positioned directly under the shoulders, fingers pointing forwards, elbows staying tight to my body throughout the exercise. I chose this type of push-up because I felt it would protect my shoulder/rotator cuffs better than the more standard, elbows out, hands wide-apart version.

During a fitness test I took six weeks before the start of this experiment, I managed to score 41 push-ups in the same manner described above. I took 41 to be my current max, as it was consistent with other tests I had done before my injury.

The protocol for my workout involved completing 30 repetitions without touching my knees to the ground, or taking a hand off the floor. However, I allowed myself to take as many rests as I felt were necessary to complete the 30 reps while still being able to feel somewhat fresh at the end of the set.

In this experiment, my philosophy was that the intensity of the exercise was of far less importance than the total volume of work I would end up completing in a week or month. As the days and weeks progressed, I found it easier and easier to complete the 30 repetitions, and eventually got to the point where I could complete all 30 without resting once. (Note: I chose 30 repetitions because it was a nice round number that was fairly close to my max, but still easily attainable.)

After one month of daily workouts I retested myself. I completed the test in exactly the exact same form described above, and in the exact same manner as I completed each workout. The result of my first test was a score of 52 repetitions. This matched my second highest score ever, and was only two off of my all-time record of 54 set back in high school.

My motivation bolstered by what I considered a fantastic result, I continued on with my plan to complete just 30 repetitions a day, every day, for another month. However, about halfway through this second month, I felt that 30 repetitions had become too easy to complete, and so I increased my daily workout number to an ambitious 32 repetitions.

My second test resulted in a score of 60 repetitions – my highest ever total by a score of 6, and nearly 20 more repetitions than I could complete at the start of the program. For the next two weeks I completed 32, and then later 35 repetitions each workout (still just one workout a day).I then tested myself again and still scored 60 repetitions, but I had stopped a few reps short of my max on this test.

Confident that I could have probably eked out at least three to four more reps during my last test, I continued on training at a daily volume of 35 repetitions performed in one continuous set.I was also still performing the repetitions without a break at this point because the jump in reps from 32 to 35 was so minimal, and I had the capacity for much higher numbers. About a week before the next test I increased my workout repetition number to 37. Three weeks after the last test, I tested myself again and completed a whopping 70 repetitions, nearly twice as many as I could do when I started.

I believe though, that in my quest to hit 70 reps during the test I pushed my mind and body to their limit (or at least it felt like I had). Despite the elation I felt after performing a hitherto unthinkable number of push-ups, I remember feeling a bit fatigued during my next day’s workout (something that had not happened in any of the other workouts that followed a test day in previous months).

Furthermore, rather than following the “time-tested” formula of continuing to do the same number of push-ups as I was doing in my workout just before the test, and then slightly increasing the number of reps a couple of weeks later, I must have decided that my new 70 rep test score made me the king of working out, and that I could do whatever I pleased and get away with it. After just two post-test workouts at 37 repetitions, I decided to change my formula to working out with 2/3 of the max repetitions from the recently completed test. In this case that meant jumping from 37 repetitions per workout to 46 repetitions. It turns out this was a big mistake, as my workouts started to go from bad to worse.

At first I seemed to be able to tough out all 46 repetitions with only a minimum of trouble.However, as the days went on, and quite quickly I might add, that slight fatigue began to increase, and the “minimum of trouble” I was experiencing a few days before started turning into a lot of trouble. As the workouts became harder my motivation started to drop, and about a week after I made the change, the unthinkable happened, and I skipped two workouts because I didn't want to do them.

I was unhappy with this latest turn of events, and I decided to get back on track and figure out what had gone wrong. I remembered that when I first started the experiment I took multiple breaks during my work set to complete the repetitions fatigue free. Immediately after re-employing this work-rest-work method, I found that my motivation to workout had returned, but that the damage to my nervous system had already been done, as the speed and vigorousness with which I could complete the repetitions just a month earlier were now gone.


Analysis

I didn't start my experiment originally with the intention to prove anything, I was merely too lazy to work out more than a few sets a day, and I thought it would be interesting to see if I could still build up enough “total reps” to improve my push-up maximum with only one sub-maximal set a day. That said, I think it’s interesting to note that despite my decline in push-up proficiency near the end of the experiment, I did in fact improve my push-up max number significantly and consistently for three straight months.

If you are just new to working out, or know someone who is, you/they may find it comforting to know that you can do just one set a day, even for just one minute a day, and still achieve fitness success.

I have since started this experiment over again from the beginning and am currently working out with 30 pushups a day. I will carry the program out over a the course of this upcoming summer, with the ultimate goal to see if I can achieve 100 pushups a day performing only one training set a day.

I'm Back!

DFM has left Korea and is now back in Canada. The next adventure for DFM is a trip to Scotland, and then hopefully a trip across the country to Halifax. Unfortunately, computer issues have kept me DFM from completing his latest Korean Cop Adventure. However, keep checking The Korean Cop over the course of the next two weeks to read about the remainder of DFM's latest tour in Korea.

He looks Chinee!

DFM is back in Korea. This time for roughly five months. Keep abreast of the adventures on The Kindergarten Cop's sister site: The Korean Cop.

Keep Our Cake Pure

When I was growing up in Alberta, things were simpler. My television picture was in low definition, my Internet came through a telephone wire that made it possible to download a 4 MB song in fifteen minutes, and GST was an easy to calculate 7/100 of a dollar. What could be better than that?

However, things are changing now, and not necessarily for the better. Sure, I suppose high speed Internet access and televisions that don't require an entire room for themselves might be considered an improvement by some. But, what about that most grotesque of modern perversions the liberal media has tricked our young people into embracing recently? That's right, I'm talking about ice cream cake.

When I was a child I used to look forward to birthdays and other special occasions because it meant the possibility of eating cake and ice cream. My ancestors had consumed cake and ice cream and so it was good and pure, it was part of our culture. Unfortunately, I was young and naive then and I did not know what horrors lie waiting to scare me in the near future.

In the mid-'90s Dairy Queen invented the ice cream cake. While some members of the liberal media elite might tell you that Dairy Queen actually invented the ice cream cake in 1985, I suspect they only sold these ice cream cakes in certain neighbourhoods and bath houses in San Francisco. These were of no concern to good Christian boys though, since their parents rightfully warned them not to go near these places for fear of catching The Plague. I can only assume this involved having a large slice of ice cream cake shoved down one's throat until he gagged. The Plague also apparently involved a sore anus, since it was God's intention for birthday treats to be the union of both cake and ice cream - further proof that ice cream cake is an abomination against God.

Right now you might be asking yourself what I have against ice cream cake. If the above trustworthy recollection of my childhood wasn't enough for you, then I'll have to pull out the big guns. That means informing you that it just ain't Albertan, and that means it just ain't right. Alberta is the number one province, we have freedom from PST (and quality public transportation)... but I digress.

When I was a young boy I remember that things were better. The cake stayed on a silver tray on the counter, and the ice cream had its own special plastic bucket so it could stay in the freezer. Sure, they were separate, but I swear they were equal.

Now I'm not a foodist, I'm not saying that cake can't love ice cream, or the other way around. It's a free country. But this is reverse foodism. True ice cream cake, the way God intended, would have a thin sliver of ice cream hidden between two pieces of cake. However, these affirmative action chefs are creating abominations against The Intelligent Baker by giving spots traditionally held by cake to unqualified ice cream. We let the ice cream be eaten with metal utensils just like the cake. If the ice cream still melts in the sun, then perhaps it needs to work harder.

If you aren't afraid yet, you should be. After all this reeks of something that was written in the '30s in Germany. Think of the bakers who won't be able to sell their cake anymore. How will they be able to feed their families? If any of them are Catholic or Evangelical, they might have as many as seven kids to feed (it's their right, don't you question it).

I for one am very afraid. That's why I'll be heading to my nearest Dairy Queen to protest. I'll be showing up with the knife I use to cut cake in hand - The 18" SWAT Big Game/Hunting Knife (pictured below) - to show everyone I'm a true Albertan. I urge everyone who cares about their children to show up and read their local Dairy Queen manager the riot act too (respectfully of course). It's the Albertan Way.

(I use this knife to cut cake. It's my right!)

Update On My Shame

I was searching the Internet, and it turns out my local paper did in fact advertise the Festival with an article. This of course means the blame must be shifted to the people of my city, a fact about which I am not in the least bit surprised. The surrounding area of my city has 200 000 people, meaning less than 0.1% came out to support multiculturalism. Nice job rednecks. Appologies to the local reporters who may have felt slighted by my earlier comments.

Ashamed Of My City, Going To The Garden To Eat Worms

Recently my northern hick town decided to hold a festival to honour the various "foreign" cultures that comprise our city. It was a beautiful gesture, and one I was looking forward to appreciate first hand.

Due to prior engagements I was only able to see half of the performances that day, but what I saw was inspiring none-the-less.

The first act I saw was a group of Ugandan drummers and dancers. One of their dances was exceptionally lively, and I was told by one of the performers that it was designed to mimic the sound of the cows dancing in the field.

Next came some belly dancers. I'm pretty sure this was a local belly dancing class that was asked to perform because of the obvious exotic nature of the art, although not necessarily the members themselves.

The definite highlight of the show though, was the Vancouver-based capeoira group, Ache Brasil. These guys were professional and it showed. I don't know how we got them to come up to Hillbilly Hell, Alberta, but I'm glad we did. They had colourful costumes, traditional instruments galore, and some of the most incredible tumbling and dancing you've likely not seen before.

While the performers were great, and I once again applaud the city for putting the festival on, the turnout was nothing short of dismal. In a city of about 45, 000 people (maybe less after everyone left following the recession), you'd think you could get more than the roughly 200 people who dotted the hillside in the park to watch the dancing and singing. However, you'd be wrong.

I can't fault the people who showed up, since they were there, and I'm not really faulting those who didn't show up, because they probably did not know about it. The blame lies squarely with the local media. I know they knew about it, because I saw multiple photographers from the paper there taking pictures. However, when I checked the paper that afternoon, after the show, though, I found what I suspected: no advertising (update: I have since found that there was an article, read here for more information).

I guess I can't say there was no advertising. There was a tiny side-bar mention of the festival burried in one of the pull-out sections of the paper. This might be enough for the local Junior A hockey team's next game, since people are going to be searching for the game times anyway. But when you are bringing in a top-notch performing arts group like Ache Brasil, why would you not at least write up an article on the event sometime during the preceding week? It is baffling how badly the ball was dropped this time, and this for a city where the ball has been dropped so many times I've taken to counting the number of times it has been held onto instead.

But what of the people who were there? Surely they would appreciate what a great event they were witnessing, right? Wrong. In my generous estimate, only 20% of the people there could be said to have been actively participating, and that is a very generous estimate. On numerous occasions the ungrateful cretins were asked to move forward and participate more, and by more than one group, but unsurprisingly they chose to sit put on their asses instead.

When I expressed concern, even anger over the situation, I was told not to worry about it. It might be tempting to let it go, but what's the point? What else do I have to do? And more importantly, WWHHD?

"With the joy of responsibility comes the burden of obligation," is what Hank Hill would say, not to mention "with great power comes great responsibility" (Stan Lee, with a nod to FDR and Luke). With the power to recognize evil, I have a responsibility to be angry about it, and with the responsibility to be angry about it, I have the obligation to turn into the Incredible Hulk. DFM Angry! DFM SMASH!!!

In all seriousness though, it was a pretty low moment for a city I didn't think could sink any lower. Here we have a wonderful chance to show the world that we aren't just a bunch of selfish rednecks, and what do we do? We show up to a free event and refuse to participate. Smooth. We had a duty to be good neighbours and welcome these visitors, and we failed. Hank Hill did not keep novelty mail boxes out of his neighbourhood for all these years just to see this happen; he must be rolling in his cancellation grave.

This unbearably grey cloud did have one slim silver lining though. The behaviour of my fellow city folk was so reprehensible that it has eliminated any doubt in my mind that I will ever come back to live in this soul stealing nightmare ever again. Nope, instead this is the beginning of the future for DFM. From here on DFM will be a nomad, a man without a home, attempting to live in every province and territory in Canada (where he will find a home, thereby contradicting his earlier statement).

Keep tuned to to The Kindergarten Cop over the next 10 to 75 years to hear how it goes. The journey starts in three weeks when I head back to Seoul, then hopefully to Halifax, Nova Scotia. Pass me the Maynards Wine Gums, I'm going on an extended road trip, Woo-hoo!