Tuesday, August 27, 2002; Page HE02
The kettlebell workout is one new fitness trend that has actually been around since the turn of the last century -- in czarist Russia, to be exact. The cast-iron ball with an easy grip -- think a cannonball with a handle -- is a low-tech comer finding new popularity with hard-core lifters and other fitness enthusiasts.
Andrea Rippe, a trainer at the Sport and Health Club in Reston, uses kettlebells herself and with several clients. "I like them because they're so old school; it's a retro-style throwback that really gives you an efficient full-body workout." A few other gyms have shown interest, but for now most individual enthusiasts have to buy the bells on their own through masters like Pavel Tsatsouline.
Tsatsouline -- whose grueling kettlebell workouts have earned him the nickname "The Evil Russian" -- traces the girya, or kettlebell, to strongman competitions in pre-revolutionary Russia. "Kettlebells were used . . . to give that extra edge in strength and endurance training," says Tsatsouline. "Back in czarist times, a strongman or weight lifter was called a girevik, or kettlebell man." More recently, the bells were used in training by Soviet Olympians and members of the Spetznaz, the Soviet equivalent of U.S. Special Forces.
Tsatsouline, a former Spetznaz instructor who now trains SWAT and special police response teams in Texas, New Mexico and Washington state, is the author of "The Russian Kettlebell Challenge: Xtreme Fitness for Hard-Living Comrades" and a one-man kettlebell industry. The Evil One's books, videos and kettlebells, as well as training tips and a list of certified trainers, are distributed through the Web site www.dragondoor.com.
Kettlebells come in a variety of "poods," an old Russian measure of weight; one pood equals about 16 kilos, or about 35 pounds. Kettlebells designed for women come in quarter-pood and half-pood sizes and sell for $90 to $100. The next size is 1.5 poods, followed by 2- and 2.5-pood models, which cost up to $140.
Many of the exercises that Tsatsouline outlines in his books and videos are familiar from conventional weight training: dead lifts (in which you lift a weight from the ground, keeping your back straight and head up), clean-and-jerks (in which you explode up from a squat position) and military presses (in which you press the weight overhead from a seated position). Others, such as the windmill, the one-arm swing and the Turkish "Get-Up!" -- in which you start on your back, holding the bell above you, and slowly get up, still holding the ball above your head -- are not.
"It's the momentum," explains Gunnery Sgt. James A. Coleman, chief instructor at the Marine Corps Martial Arts Center of Excellence at Quantico. "There are more muscles involved in balance and leverage with the kettlebell; you work every muscle just keeping them up."
The 34-year-old career Marine, a powerlifter who has set four U.S. armed forces records, says he has seen a big difference since introducing kettlebells into his training: "Everything has jumped up: my power -- I've increased my squats by 100 pounds -- and my endurance has more than doubled. It's easy to see why they're popular here at the center."
A caveat: Swinging a 53-pound cannonball-shaped weight over your head can be a hazardous proposition. Rippe, who advises novices to consult with a trainer before trying them, uses her own checklist to see if clients are kettlebell-worthy; to qualify, they must be able to perform basic pull-ups and dead lifts, have good core and lower back strength and possess good coordination.
Walt Thompson, a professor of kinesiology and health at Georgia State University in Atlanta and a fellow with the American College of Sports Medicine, advises caution. "I can see the appeal," says Thompson. "But ouch! These weights are clearly for those with a good sense of balance and coordination. Otherwise, I'd advise a helmet. This would take a high level of fitness at the start."
-- Wendi Kaufman
© 2002 The Washington Post Company
Russian kettlebells provide total body conditioning
By Art Carey
Knight Ridder Newpapers (KRT)
Having trouble keeping your fitness resolutions?
Interested in a way to buff your bod that's new and different?
Have I got a solution for you: Russian kettlebells!
Actually, they are not new. They go back to Russian strongmen who could bend rails into knots, and before that to Atlas and Hercules, who pumped up with boulders.
But in a fitness world that's increasingly glitzy and needlessly high-tech, they are different. And like a lot of stuff that's old-fashioned, kettlebells - which look like cannonballs that have a cast-iron suitcase handle - are wonderfully simple and effective.
I was introduced to kettlebells by Steve Maxwell. Maxwell and his wife run Maxercise in Philadelphia. In high school and college, Maxwell was a standout wrestler. In recent years, he's become an avid practitioner of Brazilian jujitsu; in fact, he's a two-time champ.
Three years ago, Maxwell as leafing through a strength-training journal when he spied an article about kettlebells and their leading exponent, Pavel Tsatsouline, a.k.a. "The Evil Russian."
After earning a degree in coaching and physiology at the Soviet Physical Culture Institute, Tsatsouline became a physical-training instructor for Spetznaz, the Soviet Special Forces. Today, this professional tough guy lives in California, training police SWAT teams and teaching U.S. Marine drill sergeants how to make P.T. really nasty.
In his book, "The Russian Kettlebell Challenge ($34.95, Dragon Door Publication), Tsatsouline proclaims: "Kettlebells - as brutish and unforgiving as Stonehenge rocks - are your escape from the sad world of soft hands and namby-pamby lesser men."
All this spoke mightily to Maxwell. He contacted Tsatsouline, who sent him instructions - in Russian. Unable to find kettlebells, Maxwell asked a welder friend to make some. Untutored, he experimented with technique, largely winged it. The more he worked out with kettlebells, the more he liked them. Eventually, he and Tsatsouline hooked up, and last October, Maxwell got certified as a "girevik" - a kettlebell lifter.
The other day, Maxwell gave me a tutorial.
Kettlebells come in different sizes and weights. The traditional unit is a "pood," about 35 pounds. In kettlebell lifting, what matters is not how much you can lift but how long. The goal is muscular stamina rather than show-offy strength.
Maxwell demonstrated by doing a series of snatches, heaving a 53-pound kettlebell from the floor in one smooth swing, then catching the weight overhead with his extended arm. Typically, he'll do 25 reps with each arm. "It's one of the most cardio things you can do," Maxwell said. "There's not enough air in the room sometimes." (Or, as Tsatsouline might put it, "It's a puker.")
But what about us regular blokes? Should we forsake barbells and dumbbells?
Maxwell rhapsodized about the benefits. Among other things, kettlebells:
- Work your entire body, recruiting stabilizing muscles and strengthening the core.
- Develop ballistic, or plyometric, strength for explosive power.
- Subject your body to "importune," or sudden, loads.
Said Maxwell: "There's no finer way to strengthen the tendons and ligaments: the ballistic shock runs all through you."
- Train your body to brace for and absorb shock, a boon for contact sports.
- Make your nervous system more responsive and efficient.
- Push your heart and lungs to the max.
- Rev up your metabolism and vaporize calories.
So smitten is Maxwell that he has abandoned conventional weights. Kettlbells are about practical, functional, real-world fitness. Rather then isolating muscles and body parts, kettlebells work the body as a unit, demanding that all parts participate as "team players."
"For total body conditioning, they can't be beat," said Maxwell, who teaches kettlebell classes twice a week. "You get cardio, strength, endurance, balance, agility, plyo and flexibility all in one workout. They put the athleticism back in weight lifting."
Twenty minutes, five exercises, two times a week - that's all it takes, Maxwell said. Short, sweet, simple and fun.
Morgantown, WV Dominion Post Sunday, April 14, 2002