turkish get-ups

Death to Dadbod – The Truth About Turkish Get-Ups

Danial Hooper Death to Dadbod

I’m not saying I’m an expert in Turkish Get-ups. If you’re looking for fitness expertise within, Pat and Taz Barber or Cheryl Hargrove need to be given the microphone. They can teach TGUs better than I can recite the ABCs. Top notch teachers with the ability to educate and not inundate. In my mind, the strength of OTB is built around the people… and you’ll be hard pressed to find three better than those. Even Pat, a man who allegedly fist fought a baby panda in high school.

With that said.

You’re reading my blog post about Turkish Get-ups. So, here’s what you’re about to find out. A) I know how to use YouTube. B) I have a bad shoulder and weak core, those two things aren’t great for TGUs, so I’m good to help the everyman. C) I’ve recently been ranked the funniest person in the world by sources.

(Sources: My one year old who laughs when I sing)

This isn’t a Turkish Get-up heavy workout. I only end up doing 9 total in the workout. I’d love to say I moved efficiently, but efficiency doesn’t live in this awkward body. Instead, let’s say that I moved chaotically controlled. My body was on the verge of a meltdown, but in slow motion.

If you’re looking for some help on TGUs. Here’s your best bet:

Now seems like a good time to say something: Turkish Get-up sounds like a weird sex position from one of those awkward wedding gifts from your goofy aunt.

Sorry, I had to say it.

Anyways.

The Workout

2 rounds, 3 mins each,

75 Double Unders

max reps in remaining time Turkish Get-ups, pick load

— then —

2 rounds, 3 mins each,

50 Double Unders

25 Dumbbell Jump Overs

max reps in remaining time Dumbbell Wipers, pick load

Note

I’m using my trusty 25 lb dumbbell. Shoulder stability is sooo important with a modestly heavy weight. If I were holding one of our pink 5 pounders, I could move way faster. However, my daughters would likely kick me in the shin and call me a Cottonheaded Ninny Muggin.

Another Note

This workout was filled with distractions. I sweatedededed a lot in this one. My lungs hurt too. After the first half of the workout, my elderly neighbor came over and tried to shake my hand. He’s missing part of his thumb, I was sweaty, and WE’RE IN THE MIDDLE OF AN OLD PERSON KILLING PANDEMIC. Out of breath, I attempted to say “I’m still practicing social distancing” but my eyes said, “You’re the reason we can’t have nice things.”

The second half of the workout was filled with self-loathing over hurting old-McOlderson’s feelings.

Okay okay. Let’s get to it. Here’s a tip for Turkish Get-ups. Focus on the task at hand. Break it up into a few parts. Don’t rush it. Be quick, but don’t hurry.

3… 2… 1… GO!

First Set – 3:00

I complete the first 50 reps of Double Unders unbroken. Basically, I’m the best white-boy jumper since Woody Allen was running game. The next twenty five go smooth as well, although there’s a weird sound from my rope. Probably just because I’m moving so fast.

Deep breath.

Okay. You can do this.

I lay on my back and grab the weight. I’m starting from the ground. In the first rep, I’ve forgotten if we start standing, or from the floor. It’s called get up, though. So ya know.

Sidebar: Definitely listening to this song.

I get one done before my phone tells me that I’m halfway there, aka 1:30 down. The goal was to get closer to a dozen reps. But I’m moving slow and careful. It’s like walking on ice while, barefoot.

The next three reps are smooth. I’m switching hands each rep. My left shoulder has had 2 operations and roughly 1,000 dislocations, it’s holding up okay. #akaRoy, #akaTheBaby #AranWinslow yells at me from the house. I’m out front, he’s standing at the door, likely with poop in his pants, yelling, “Hiiii Daaaad.”

I could quit this workout right now and snuggle his face for 74 straight hours.

Another tip for TGUs: You don’t have to be sturdy to feel sturdy. Just stay as tight as possible. Me? My gut is about as tight as a bowl of jelly. Yet, I’m keeping myself strong, and it starts at the belly.

6 reps of Turkish Get-ups

Second Set – 6:00

Oh, that’s why my Jump Rope was making a weird sound. The wires are starting to split. Great.

So now, if I mess up, I’m going to get murder horneted from my shin to my buttcheeks.

And yes, I mess up. 6 times. I’m tired.

Now I’m in agony. And hateful.

I can’t get a rhythm. The rope is fine, albeit a little off. These mistakes are entirely on my feet and body. I’ve forgotten how to jump with any kind of pace.

It hurts like pain.

My phone notifies me that I’m halfway there just as I finished my 50th rep of Double Unders. I want to scream out loud. It’s important to remember the importance of valuing important things… and my emotional outburst wouldn’t be important.

I don’t know why I said important so many times. Maybe it’s the fear that the rope is going to make me impotent.

I only have time for 3 Turkish Get-ups. Each one was less controlled than the previous.

It was a bloody mess, okay?

Oh good… Hi neighbor.

My elderly neighbor likes to walk outside when he sees other people outside. He’s kind of like a duck at a pond. The moment he sees you, he assumes you want to chat and feed him bread.

I have no bread, only hate.

“Hi neighbor!” he shouts, still far enough away for his glossy eyes not to notice the vein in my forehead pulsing.

The baby yells from the house. He’s trying to warn him.

Neighbor waves. I’m getting ready to start more jump ropes. The wires are splayed out a good bit. I’m trying really hard to look at them and not attract a conversation. This isn’t the time to chat. I’m not in your will. Call your nephew or something.

Third Set – 9:00

“When’re ya moving?” he says with a smile.

I’m in the middle of my first jump. These last two sets only have 50 Double Unders. No turkish get-ups, either. This is far more “Danial-friendly”

All except I’m being accosted by Mr. Feeny.

I answer him on my first missed turn. Rep 17 and I’m breaking. “We’re moving west of Layton, Syracuse.” And I’m back to jumping. Eyes looking past him.

Listen, I’m not normally mean to my elders. But like, hey pops, read the room. I can chat in 6 minutes.

He says something, but I don’t hear him. I can’t hear him over my internal screaming.

Or Aran’s external screaming. He’s such a funny little boy. When he’s trying to get your attention, he puts this funny little bit of bass in his voice. It’s his dada-voice.

“Hey! Hey!” he yells.

Older Fellow waves at him and turns back to me.

I finish my 50 and start jumping over this stupid 25 lb dumbbell.

Halfway there.

I let out a huff in exhaustion. It catches him off guard.

The jumps are fast. I’m a good leaper, even when my feet hurt sooooooooo bad. Why does stress cause such awful tension in my arches?

It’s the neighbor’s fault.

Down to the wipers.

So fun.

14 reps before the timer goes off.

Fourth Set – 12:00

The neighbor is standing there, watching me. My stomach is moving up in down at a different pace than the rest of my body. It feels like that’s where his eyes are.

29 reps into the jump ropes. I’m going to get this last set unbroken…

… he walks directly to me, hand held out… and says, “Just wanted to shake your hand, in case we don’t talk before you move.”

I stop the jump rope just as he enters the danger zone. That thing could have decapitated him. My hands are locked on the ropes, I’m nodding at him, but his hand gets closer. He’s mumbling something, maybe the Andy Griffith theme song.

What is happening.

I drop the rope, and shake his hand. My sweaty palm engulfs his freckled hand.

And then, I say thank you and take 6 giant steps back. Finishing the last 21 reps of double unders.

Halfway there!

Nooooo!

How am I running out of time already?

The DB Jump Overs are faster than the last set, but not fast enough to feel good.

My neighbor starts walking back to his house, victorious.

I have enough time to finish with 8 good reps of wipers.

And I’m spent.

TIME!

 

I hope you enjoyed!

Join OTB today!

 

Danial Hooper Editor
Word Wizard/Lead Brewmaster/First Contact Seeker
I’m the family lab rat, if your family is a group of mad scientists. I mask my weaknesses by being funny and telling stories. Basically, I write posts for the blog, type up some emails, help where asked, and cry when Taz makes us run. My novels are available on Amazon. Something’s got to pay my daughters’ dance fees. I have four kids, three cats, and one wife. I love all of them dearly.