[OOC]Progress Report

Posted by Roc Wieler on

You’re probably thinking this is where I reveal my current skill training plan, exposing my alts and my collective abilities for you to take advantage of should we ever meet ingame.

Or maybe you think this is where I boast of my weekly killmail totals, swinging my virtual manhood around for all to marvel at its girth and glory.

You’d be mistaken on both counts. This is where I take great pride in some real life accomplishments, and hopefully inspire others in their efforts at a better lifestyle.

THE CHALLENGE:

Jan 1st, 2010, the gauntlet was thrown down on Twitter #tweetfleet and #eveonline as to who would meet their New Year’s fitness goals first.

I was 220 lbs at that time. I have been consistently working out for 2.5 years, and started at 33% body fat.

PROGRESS REPORT:

Today I am proud to say I am 208 lbs, 14% body fat. I look more ripped than I ever have before. I feel light on my feet, fast like a tiger, full of energy and vigor for life.

Be encouraged, friends. I used to eat a large bag of potato chips for dinner while laying on the couch playing XBox 360. Less than three years later, I maintain a healthy lifestyle, still play video games, and manage to have time leftover for other hobbies and pursuits.

BECAUSE YOU CAN:

My trainer tells me it’s all mind over matter. There is always one more repetition left; always one more push beyond our perceived limits. And it’s all true.

I want to share with you the workout I did today. It consists of five circuits, with no rest inbetween exercises, 30 seconds rest between circuits. The entire workout took me 50 minutes to do. I was covered head to toe in blinding sweat, completely winded, but still smiling in the gym mirror when all was said and done. I couldn’t feel my legs; my arms wouldn’t stop shaking, and my abs threatened to forcibly expel my lunch from earlier.

All in all, a great workout day.

Circuit 1:

– pushups to fail – 73 achieved

– incline bicep curls – 20 per arm – 25 lbs used

– hammer curls – to fail – 25 achieved, 25 lbs used

– bodyball flies with crunches – 25 reps – 25 lbs used(the crunch is performed at the peak of the fly, keeping the arms straight and extended)

– butt kicks – 2 minutes – 1 set left/right per second pace

Circuit 2:

– bodyball crunches – to fail – 93 achieved (keep elbows out wide by head)

– 20 rock star jumps

– reverse crunches – to fail – 62 achieved

– 20 knee tuck jumps

– jumping jacks – 2 minutes – 1 per second pace

Circuit 3:

– static sumo squats with military press– hold 20 reps – 35 lbs used

– chair pose – 1 minute

– hack squats – 25 reps – 25 lbs used

– jump squats – to fail – 17 achieved

– static lunge with military press – 15 per side – 15 lbs used (do the military press on the way down into the lunge)

Circuit 4:

– bodyball pushups – 15 reps

– frog pushups – 15 reps

– pushups – to fail – 7 achieved

– butt kicks – 2 minutes – 1 set left/right per second pace

– jumping jacks – 2 minutes – 1 per second pace

Circuit 5:

– hanging ab twist – 20 per side (second half of video)

– hanging ab lifts – 20 reps (first half of video)

– bodyball crunches – to fail – 104 achieved

– boat pose – 1 minute (legs straight)

CLOSING THOUGHTS:

You might have read this and thought “What an arrogant prick!”, and you know what? I’m ok with that. I’ve worked very hard to get where I am now, and do indeed take great pride and confidence in where I am, and where I am going.

So ask yourself, “Are you happy with where you’re going? Do you have the body you want? The energy level you want? Do you get tired easy? Lose stamina too quickly? Do you think it’s too difficult? Are you afraid of failure?”

If you answered negatively to any of those, then you were me nearly three years ago.

There is no magic secret. There is no internet ad that can help, even though I’m starting to sound like one. Truth is, it’s consistency.

Consistently be active. Consistently eat right. That’s really it. Oh so simple, yet oh so very hard.

Be well, my friends!

Baby Octopus Salad

Posted by Roc Wieler on

Some of you would like to think I’m kidding with these recipes. I’m not. I try out every recipe possible before posting, to ensure it’s something I myself would eat. Take today’s recipe, for example.

While stranded on the waterworld of Rybar Tekh VII, I found myself in the position of having to make do with what was available once again. Fishing was difficult at best in the rough and savage ocean, but I soon discovered from the local indigenous population that is was Octopus birthing season; that meants literally thousands of baby octopi were available for those who would snatch them. (Hmmm, octopie, that would make an interesting recipe also)

Turns out baby octopus are cheap, healthy, and good eating when done up right.

Baby Octopus Salad

INGREDIENTS:

  • 4 oz baby octopus
  • 8 oz mixed greens
  • 4 oz broccoli florets
  • 4 oz carrots
  • 4 oz red onion
  • 2 tbsp chili garlic sauce
  • 2 tbsp minced garlic
  • 2 tbsp black pepper
  • 1 tbsp lime juice

METHOD:

  1. Cook baby octopus in a steamer for 60 minutes.
  2. Chop up all your vegetables into bite sized pieces. With a food processor, this takes about 5 minutes.
  3. In a small bowl, mix chili garlic sauce, minced garlic, lime juice and black pepper until blended evenly.
  4. At 30 minutes, add vegetables to steamer.
  5. Place mixed greens into a large tupperware bowl.
  6. When steamer finished, add octopus, vegetables, and sauce from the small bowl to the tupperware.
  7. Shake until mixed well.

The nice thing about this recipe is nearly everything in it can be swapped out to taste. Don’t like mixed greens? Try spinach, or romaine, or any other type of leafy food you like. Don’t like broccoli, carrots and red onion? Swap it out for any three vegetables of choice. I find eggplant, fennel and yellow peppers go nicely together. Don’t like what’s in the sauce? Make your own. Dijon Mustard sauce mixed with artichoke hearts, fat free ranch dressing with Mrs. Dash, they’re all good.

In fact, I enjoy this particular recipe so much, I had it for lunch yesterday, and am having it again today.

Baby Octopus is cheap and available at almost any grocery store.

Command

Posted by Roc Wieler on

As I started writing today’s memoir, I found myself struggling; deleting what I had already recorded, pausing while giving serious consideration to the topic, realizing there is no definite answer to the question I had posed to myself when motivated to pen this in the first place.

What is command?

—

“Colonel Wieler, what brings you to -A- space?” Paik asked cordially. I was enroute through nullsec towards Ushra’Khan’s primary station of operations in Catch Region. Unfortunately, Kinda’Shujaa’s director hadn’t established our status as allies ahead of time; something that would’ve been useful for me to research prior to my trip. On the plus side, I was flying a cloaked Hound stealth bomber named Tique, having already acquired a healthy paranoia from my solo flights in Curse Region.

“Requesting blue status, sir. Kinda’Shujaa is the Ushra’Khan’s military division, fighting the good fight against the Amarr. I’ve come here to offer my services to our alliance, and their partners, of which -A- is most notable. Unfortunately, I’m KOS right now, which is making for a nerve wracking flight.”

“One moment, Colonel. As a diplomatic liason for -A-, and already being familiar with your career record, this shouldn’t take long.”

“Understood, sir. I appreciate your assistance in this matter. Wieler out.”

—

Is it rank? Perhaps authority? Power, respect, inspiration, leadership?

On the surface, they might seem like simple answers we each can answer for ourselves, but therein lies the issue; defining command is as unique and individual as our own personal experiences with the subject matter itself. One might find a defined approach exemplary, while another might find that same methodology deplorable.I suppose that is one more thing to add to the mix of questions when trying to derive an answer: Do those commanded determine what is good command?

—

“Your status has been set to blue, Colonel. Welcome to Catch.” Paik notified me shortly thereafter. Already I was impressed with the efficiency of diplomatic process out here; back in Empire, there would’ve been countless channels and endless red tape to get a security request of this nature processed. Seems the nullsec alliances knew how to cut to the chase.

“Roger that, sir. And thanks.” I replied.

“Not a problem, Roc. And lose the sir out here; we’re all brothers. Paik out.”

No small talk. No wasting time. I was feeling better about this with each passing moment.

—

My initial conclusion is that I can only share my own opinion; I cannot hope to authoritatively define command, and have others take it as fact. I can only attempt to present my point of view with supplemental arguments, and let any readers of this page extract from it what they will.

—

V2-VC2
V2 FREEDOMS FORGE STATION
USHRA’KHAN SOVEREIGNTY

“Your request for docking permission has been denied, Colonel Wieler. I advise you to put some distance between yourself and this facility now.” the docking manager stated over the comm.

I wasn’t a fool. Sitting cloaked 70 km off of the station, I had already watched several battleships, cruisers, interdictors, and every other type of ship in the Ushra’Khan armada fly by. There was only one opportunity to make a first impression, and if that went poorly, there might likely not be a chance for a second impression.

“Understood. Tique leaving station perimeter. Could I trouble you to be put in touch with someone with the authority to grant docking access?” I inquired.

“Not my job, pilot. You’ll need to talk to a diplomat.” he replied with disdain and annoyance in his voice.

“Roger that.” I disconnected the comm.

—

Every individual experiences the responsibility of command at some point in their lives: whether it’s with offspring, coworkers, pets, or even just themselves, command is an aspect of humanity that we all must learn to further progress our own, or someone else’s, objectives.

—

“Sorry to trouble you again, sir.” I said to Paik in a private comm.

“No trouble. And stop calling me sir.” Paik replied with humour in his voice.

“I need to get in touch with a U’K diplomat. I know you might not be the best suited to ask this, but you’re the only person I know in this region currently. Could you help me out?”

There was silence on the other end of the comm for a few moments too long.

“Get in touch with Maestro Ulv. He’s expecting you now. Paik out.”

—

Master Cho had commanded me with intimidation and violence. I feared failure. The cost of failure was often physically brutal and unrelenting. Through Master Cho I had come to fear God. Eternal damnation because of fate choosing the race I was born was more frightening than any of the beatings I had suffered at Master Cho’s hand. There came a point in my adolescent life where I no longer respected Cho, but the fear remained.

Fear is a tool of command.

—

“THE Roc Wieler, geez. What brings you out here, celebrity?” Maestro Ulv chirped cheerfully. Great. A fan. Well, at least I could use that to my advantage.

“I’m having some issues acquiring docking permissions in V2-VC2, sir. I was hoping you could help me out.” I replied in as friendly a demeanour as I could muster. I was growing impatient and trigger happy. It was taxing on the nerves being a minnow in a sea of hungry sharks.

“Hmmm, nobody showing online and available status with authority over that station. Let me see what I can do, though I can’t promise this will happen quickly. You ok waiting?” he asked, genuine concern creeping into his voice.

“Just sitting cloaked outside of the station perimeter for the last hour or so. What’s a few more?” I said, trying to appear lighthearted with just enough sarcasm to let him know I was losing patience.

“Understood.” Ulv said through laughter. “I’ll be as quick as I can.”

—

Blade Commander Stone was a man I respected. Even though he was my basic training officer when I joined the Tribal Liberation Force, which to most would harbour immediate resentment, I admired the man. He was harsh, strict, disciplinary, reprimanding when needed, but never with malice or hatred. He was a soldier, and a professional, through and through. I learned a lot from Commander Stone, and attribute him with the disciplined attitude I have today in all I do.

Respect is a tool of command.

—

Several hours passed, filled with growing trepidation. Every wing of ships that docked and undocked seemed to pass closer to my cloaked ship, threatening to break my veil of invisibility. I had blue status to U’K of course, but my instincts still told me to be wary. This was there territory after all, and I was the unwelcome visitor still.

“Alright, I’ve had you cleared. You should be able to dock now.” Ulv announced unexpectedly.

“Thank you, sir, for your diligence.” I replied, moving my Hound, Tique, towards the station, requesting permission to dock.

“No problem at all, Roc. Quit calling me sir. It bugs people out here. We’re all brothers.”

“Military training, sir … brother. I will do my very best to adapt to your standards.”

Ulv laughed. “Relax, Colonel. Things aren’t all by the rules out here. It’s a lot more casual than what you’re used to, I’m sure. You’ll be fine. What are you flying anyway?”

“Hound, sir.” I replied without thinking.

“You torpedo capable then?” Ulv asked, his rising curiousity evident in his voice.

“Not yet, … brother, but I can be if needed.”

“I’d start training it up. Definitely a need for that out here. I look forward to flying with you, Colonel. Enjoy your stay in Catch. Ulv out.”

—

Valkear General Sasawong was an inspiration to us all. His unrelenting aggression against the 24th Imperial Crusade had sent tremors of doubt throughout their ranks for years. Wherever the action was, there was Sasawong on the front lines, leading our pilots to victory after victory against our oppressive, tyrannical enemy. There were stories told of his feats for decades, inspiring new generation of pilots, and even though I was considered an old veteran by then, Sasawong had been not only a friend to me, but an inspiration as well. He practiced what he preached; he led by example, not by textbook theory. He put his money where his mouth was, and when needed, he could always be counted to stand the gap.

Inspiration is a tool of command.

—

“Tique cleared to dock, Hound pilot Wieler.” The docking manager said over the comm. “Please proceed to birth 72A-12. Steam shower and fresh clothes will be waiting for you upon pod egress. Have a nice day.”

That made me grunt in amusement. A fresh shower, clean clothes; Ushra’Khan paid attention to the details that mattered to its pilots. Nobody liked walking around in their own pod filth.

“Roger that. Wieler out.”

Half an hour later I headed to the pilots lounge, the entire time surprised to see how active and busy the station was. There weren’t many civilians here, just contractors under Ushra’Khan employ to meet the many needs of the V2 Freedoms Forge station.

I was warmly greeted by the other pilots there, and quickly we were swapping tales of glory.

“So they want you on stealth bomber duty? That should be amusing for a while.” a young, female Caldari pilot said to me. She had rejected the ideals of her people only two years ago, choosing to stand alongside the Republic instead of standing idly by watching Tibus Heth destroy the her beloved Caldari State. Of course, Tibeth Heth had proven more than capable, and with his military prowess had completely conquered all contested Gallente systems months before.

I don’t recall how many hours I spent there, enjoying my newfound brothers and sisters in arms, or how much beer we drank, but I had no trouble fitting in. It felt like home.

—

Maleatu Shakor stood with his arms behind his back, gazing out over the capital city of Pator, breathing deeply. He had come so far in his career, overcome so many obstacles. The Republic was in disarray around him, and that burden ultimately fell squarely on his shoulders. He was the leader of the Minmatar Republic. He was the embodiment of all his people strived to be. He was a fair man, an intelligent man, one which could see the endgame approaching, and knew he had to play his pieces carefully in order to achieve the victory he desired. Shakor understood the affect power could have, the influence position gave. How he used those understandings would shape the fate of an entire people.

Power is a tool of command.
Position is a tool of command.

—

I reported for duty the following morning, my pilot suit pressed and cleaned, walking tall with proud posture, my boots polished. I was ready to work under the command of whomever the Ushra’Khan had in place for the stealth bomber squadron.

“Colonel Wieler.” a pilot of unknown rank greeted me. I saluted crisply. With only a slight hesitation, he returned the salute. I remained standing at full attention.

“Your pilots should be here shortly; not everyone is as punctual as you it would appear.” he said, a smile on his face. I had been ordered to report for duty at 0900. It was 0900. There was no room for being late in the world I knew.

This wasn’t my world.

Then his words sank in… my pilots.

“Sir?” I asked. He frowned his brow.

“You really need to lose that shit, Wieler. It’s gonna look condescending, like you’re better than us, and nobody wants to fly for a smart ass ego prick. We’re all equals. Better get used to that and quick. Good luck on your first flight with the Ushra’Khan, Colonel.”

With that, he walked away, leaving me to figure out what the hell had just happened. Had my reputation proceeded me? I had led many fleets before, but had been working mostly on solo ops for a good eight months. I hadn’t a pod kill to my name in almost as long a period.

As my pilots slowly staggered in to report for duty, I realized once again I was a wing commander.

What kind of commander would I prove to be?

TO-416

Posted by Roc Wieler on

TO-416
0.0 SPACE

I arrived without incident at the assigned meeting place; a small neutral station orbiting the third planet’s single moon of this system’s yellow sun. Aura brought me up some general information on the planet: close to 7 billion inhabitants, mostly industrial, prone to war with a history of trying to kill themselves; sounded like every other terrestrial planet I knew of.

After securing the Ripsack, my Jaguar class assault frigate, and a thorough steam rinse to cleanse myself from the last evidences of my capsuleer status, I grabbed a fresh set of clothes and headed for the “Loose Moose”, a favoured pub and grill on the station.

The place was packed with civilians of all races and cultural status; the constant chatter and delicious aroma of foods distracting at best. After speaking briefly with the hostess, a cute young Achura (weren’t they all?), I made my way to a secluded back room. Capsuleers were a private bunch for the most part, and the more isolated we could be from the rest of the patrons, the better.

I was the first to arrive, typical of a soldier to actually show up on time. I took advantage of the opportunity to walk around the joint a bit, making mental note of emergency exits, surveying for anyone in the crowd that stuck out of the ordinary. Eventually, I met the pub’s owner, a rather large and raunchy Brutor woman in her mid – late fifties. The naming of the place became self-evident.

I ordered a platter of wings and a few pitchers of beer, then made my way back to our private room, seating myself with my back to a corner with a clear view of the only entryway into the room, and waited for the other “guests” to arrive.

The invited pod pilots slowly began to trickle in. They were easy to identify; they looked around just as warily as I had. We were a paranoid bunch, and with good reason; it wasn’t every day an interracial group of capsuleers gathered in one location; it was just asking for trouble.

We made our informal greetings with each other, engaging in small talk, and as more pilots arrived, small cliques broke off to separate tables, finding comfort in race and topic of conversation.

I sat alone in the corner, absorbing it all.

To my delighted surprise, PyjamaSam arrived not long after. While we often stayed in touch via NeoCom, it was rare for us to meet me in the flesh, so to speak. I jumped up from my seat, crossing the room in large strides, wrapping Sam in a fierce hug. I was tempted to pick him up off the ground. In typical PyjamaSam fashion, he started right in with the friendly “jibes” he constantly made at my expense. It had been one of the foundations of our friendship, our sarcastic banter, and he was just as thick skinned as me in that regard, able to take what he gave in stride.

“This is why we need to get you a good woman.” PyjamaSam said, as I released him from my embrace.

“Bit of an oxymoron there, ain’t it?” I replied, a smile across my face.

“Oooh, learned a big new word did ya?” Sam replied without missing a beat. That is how our conversations went. We both knew he was arrogant; perhaps even more arrogant than I was. However, Sam was one of the only people I knew that could fully back up his self-righteousness with accomplishment, and while insanely infuriating at times, it had to be respected. The man was simply brilliant.

More and more pilots arrived, and soon our little clique of two grew into a group of eight, all engaged in eating, drinking and rude conversation, swinging our manhoods around, boasting of our own accomplishments one to another.

That is when I noticed Gigaer.

He took me by surprise, appearing less than four feet from me before I became aware of him. It was a neat trick. He always managed to skulk around, even when not meaning to. I hadn’t expected Gigaer here, and I wasn’t sure it was a welcome surprise. The man had a profound way of disrupting my life. Still, I at least needed to be cordial.

“Gigaer.” I nodded in his direction.

“Good to see you again, Roc Wieler of the Ushra’Khan.” He smirked knowingly, piercing me to my core. It had been in one of his visions that he saw me joining the Ushra’Khan, as part of my journey of self-discovery, part of my destiny to one day rule the Republic. And while I wouldn’t buy into his delusions of grandeur, and he himself admitted that the future was always in motion (please don’t sue me George!), his visions had a strange way of coming to pass.

Thankfully, he sensed my discomfort, and nodding once towards me, moved towards another group.

After ninety minutes of this, the assembled pilots were starting to become restless, as our benefactor, the organizer of this event, was mysteriously absent. To me, it smelled like a trap. To have managed to convince so many pod jockeys to gather in one place, then not make an appearance yourself was either incredibly suspicious, or piss poor time management.

I chose the former.

After clearing my tab, and paying for Sam’s meal, I said some quick goodbyes, and took my leave of the function, expecting to hear about some terrorist act to befall them all within the next few hours on the Scope News.

Later that evening, I did indeed receive news via my NeoCom, but it wasn’t what I had expected. Our organizer had exhausted himself earlier in flight, and missed his wake up alarm. He had overslept, apologizing profusely to those of us whom had made the effort to meet.

He wanted to try assembling together again, but wanted our input as to a time and place, to assuage any concerns we might have. Personally, I liked the Loose Moose, and would’ve been happy to meet there.

Only time would tell what would occur in the small nullsec system of TO-416.

Sautéed Tacos

Posted by Roc Wieler on

Hmmm, what the hell can I make with apples, onions, breakfast cereal, and chicken? I thought to myself. I know … tacos!

Sautéed Tacos

INGREDIENTS:

  • 1 pound skinless, boneless chicken breast cut into bite-sized pieces
  • 1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg
  • 1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
  • 1 tablespoon Smart Start (a soy protein cereal)
  • 2 cups thinly sliced onion
  • 2 cups peeled, thinly slice Granny Smith apple (roughly 2 apples)
  • 2 garlic cloves, minced
  • 8 (6-inch) low-carb tortillas

METHOD:

  1. Coat large nonstick skillet with cooking spray, and place over medium-high heat.
  2. Sprinkle the chicken evenly with nutmeg and black pepper.
  3. Add chicken to the pan; sauté 7 minutes or until golden.
  4. Remove the chicken from pan; keep warm.
  5. Melt Smart Start in pan over medium heat.
  6. Add onion; cook for 4 minutes or until tender, stirring frequently.
  7. Add apple; cook for 6 minutes or until golden, stirring frequently.
  8. Add garlic; cook for 30 seconds, stirring constantly.
  9. Return chicken to pan; cook for 2 minutes or until thoroughly heated, stirring frequently.
  10. Heat tortillas according to package directions.
  11. Arrange 1/2 cup chicken mixture evenly over each tortilla.

SERVES 4 (serving size is 2 tacos)

Nutrition per serving:

  • 354 calories
  • 7.6g of fat
  • 32.9g of protein
  • 305mg of sodium
  • 4.8g of fiber
  • 31.5g carbohydrates
This recipe is from the book “Making the Cut” by Jillian Michaels.