
George Hood can’t stomach whiners, he is “rockstar” confident and understands the importance of a properly functioning external catheter.
All of which came into play earlier this month, when the U.S. Marine veteran from Naperville held his torso rigid for eight hours, 15 minutes and 15 seconds at a fitness club in Plainfield — landing him, once again, in the Guinness World Records book for “planking.”
“The elbows break open, they bleed — it’s like a very bad abrasion. But you get used it; it’s fine,” said Hood, 62, who describes himself as an “ultra endurance athlete” and talks in rapid-fire sentences, using terms like “execute” and “10-4” to get his message across.
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Planking, to the unfamiliar, can sound like a kind of medieval torture. It requires a person to remain almost perfectly level — with only the forearms and toes touching the ground. Sagging bellies and skyward butts are not allowed.
“You have to push through walls, like running a marathon. Unfortunately, I’m static — I can’t move and have the beauty of seeing different scenery,” said Hood, who spent about 15 years working in the Chicago branch of the U.S. Drug Enforcement Administration before retiring in 2007.
Spectators come and go, building when Hood gets close to the record.
“It ebbs and flows because no one is going sit there and watch a guy plank for eight hours,” he said.
Hood said he began planking back in 2010, when the folks at Guinness introduced it as a stand-alone category. A year later, it took a mere one hour and 20 minutes to break the world record. He broke the record again in 2013, with a time of three hours and seven minutes.
To prepare for his latest Guinness record, the evenly bronzed Hood trained seven hours a day with a regimen that included about 2,000 sit-ups, 700 push ups, 500 leg lifts and four to five hours of planking. He begins each day with a fistful of vitamins and supplements. He doesn’t smoke, do drugs or drink alcohol.
“The chemistry in my body is pure, and that facilitates my ability to do what I do,” he said.
At this point, you may be asking: Why would anyone want to spend hour upon hour in a pose resembling a human bench?
“I’m solving problems when I’m in that plank pose,” Hood said. “I’m thinking about where I’m going to live. I’m thinking about the kids. I’m working on updates to my social media.”
Chances are, despite gulping lots of fluids, he’s not thinking about urinating.
“I used to just p— in bottles, but when I discovered that external catheter, that’s brilliant!” he said.
Despite his sinewy-hard exterior, Hood has a soft side. He gushes about his three grown sons and, it turns out, he loves a good love story — particularly Danielle Steel’s first novel, “Going Home,” which made Hood’s eyes glisten during a flight to the U.S. mainland from Honolulu.
“I remember crying on that airplane ...,” he said. “I was so engrossed in that novel.”
But when it’s showtime, the only thing trickling down Hood’s face is pure sweat.
Hood says he can’t abide whiners — people who, for example, give a wishy-washy response when asked how things are going.
“‘What do you mean you don’t know?!’” Hood said, with a drill-sergeant-like bark. “‘You woke up, for God’s sake! Be grateful you got out of bed.’”
At 62, Hood says he’s achieved all he wants to with competitive planking. But don’t expect him to bid farewell to the gym, where his regimen includes a 500 “daily minimum.”
“I would like to move into the pushup genre,” he said. “The most pushups in an hour seems to get my attention.”
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