Hypoxic training is a wonderful thing when done properly: I have it by means of asthma and no inhaler.
When I first moved here, I was out of breath on every single step up a flight of stairs; the air quality here got much worse, and now I can sprint up three flights of stairs wearing a forty pound backpack while holding my breath and not being winded at all.
You can imagine what it's like when I get so much as an unclogged coffee's straw worth of air per breath on better days; I'm full of energy and have no problems with a six thousand pound custom bag.
Ask the KOJF (Karate of Japan Federation) International Headquarters what happened last year when I fired off a pattern in there at fifteen percent effort at the time as a visitor/supervisor; the whole building rumbled on every move, and I weigh less than two hundred pounds. They could not match the speed either.
Eight percent was just short of snapping their better makiwara board bare-knuckled with a relaxed stance to sudden obverse and protecting the other temple with my back hand fist as the front covered my right one.
He saw the brusies on my wrists from the day before at a gym doing fourteen thousand and four hundred punches with fifteen pound dumbells in each hand in just under two hours (sets from right hand back and left hand back switching off each time with no delay of the following: front obverse, back hand reverse, front hand upset, front hand hook, back hand hook, and front hand uppercut) approximately two punches per second with the edges of the weights constantly knocking into my wrists and bruising them and two layers of loose and baggy shirts and pants on.
If the devil wants to kill me, he's in for a rough time: It's not stopping me; It's _motivating_ me!
Don't give up if you feel under the weather; keep fighting the good fight!
When I first moved here, I was out of breath on every single step up a flight of stairs; the air quality here got much worse, and now I can sprint up three flights of stairs wearing a forty pound backpack while holding my breath and not being winded at all.
You can imagine what it's like when I get so much as an unclogged coffee's straw worth of air per breath on better days; I'm full of energy and have no problems with a six thousand pound custom bag.
Ask the KOJF (Karate of Japan Federation) International Headquarters what happened last year when I fired off a pattern in there at fifteen percent effort at the time as a visitor/supervisor; the whole building rumbled on every move, and I weigh less than two hundred pounds. They could not match the speed either.
Eight percent was just short of snapping their better makiwara board bare-knuckled with a relaxed stance to sudden obverse and protecting the other temple with my back hand fist as the front covered my right one.
He saw the brusies on my wrists from the day before at a gym doing fourteen thousand and four hundred punches with fifteen pound dumbells in each hand in just under two hours (sets from right hand back and left hand back switching off each time with no delay of the following: front obverse, back hand reverse, front hand upset, front hand hook, back hand hook, and front hand uppercut) approximately two punches per second with the edges of the weights constantly knocking into my wrists and bruising them and two layers of loose and baggy shirts and pants on.
If the devil wants to kill me, he's in for a rough time: It's not stopping me; It's _motivating_ me!
Don't give up if you feel under the weather; keep fighting the good fight!
Last edited by MPRTwice,
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