… or at least making CTG dry-heave. I’ll take what I can get.
I was bitching this morning to my buddy DW (arguably, the asshole responsible for this blog existing in the first place, and the guy who first pimped Biotest and T-Nat to me) about how I needed to get back to doing wind sprints as cardio/conditioning/weight loss stuff. I don’t have anything against doing three or four miles at lunch, but do like the high-intensity interval training (HIIT) thing.
Lo and behold, I get to the gym, having muttered about worrying about looking like a dork running around the yard, when CTG is there, proposing to do just that. Darn convenient, really.
Vaguely defined, end-to-end, the main part of the yard is about 80 meters (keen observers or the terminally bored will recognize this as the sprint length of the occasional CWC). So, that was our length. I’m not going to pretend I had anything specific in mind, just “do a few, then go home for bench pressing.” Felt good to be out there, and, without a stopwatch, felt fast, too. Given the general crankiness of my knees and glutes/quads due to weather change and Sunday’s squats, that was a good sign, so, doing some mental napkin math, I figured that a bakers’ dozen trips would be a full kilometer’s worth of sprints.
Yes, this is a ridiculous amount of volume. However, I’m not a sprinter. Nor, as would become increasingly apparent, is CTG.
After one slow jog to warm up, we got to it. Fly down, walk back, repeat. I was going at probably 90-95%, since it felt good to just be out there running. After the fourth trip down, CTG wasn’t looking so hot. “I hate throwing up,” he opined. I shared the colorful (so to speak) story of eggs-and-spike-out-the-nose from the Gasparilla 5k. I’m helpful like that. He took the last two laps at a walk, while I ran them out, for an estimate that’s something just short of half a klick. Despite turning green and dry-heaving a couple of times, an ill-chosen 4pm cup of yogurt remained inside him, and we went our separate ways.
Tomorrow, we’ll shake it up and do 40’s. I’d like to bang out at least ten.
After commuting, I knew it was bench press day for 15/9/3, and, given my struggles with last week’s session, I didn’t ratchet the weights up or the reps down, essentially trying to just do last week’s work again.
Barbell Curl: 2×10 @ 45
Bench Press: 1×15 @ 45 /1×10 @ 115 / 1×5 @ 135
Bench Press: 3×5 @ 155 / 2×5 @ 175 / 1×4 @ 175
I had, for some reason, thought I’d crashed out on a set at 195 last week, which is why it’s good to keep a journal; flipping back to it after the second set at 175, when my form started to degrade on the last rep, I was able to realize, Oh, hey, this is the top weight, so I’ve already improved by a full set over last time. Doesn’t make me happy with missing that last rep on the third set, but I’m sick of having to roll the bar off my chest and lap. I am keenly awaiting the arrival of my new weight rack, but it hasn’t shipped yet. Yes, that was my “gift to self with portion of tax return” purchase.
Followed it up with a tasty, if ad-libbed, “nomlette.” 4 eggs, quarter cup of shredded sharp cheddar, tablespoon of diced jalapenos, teaspoon of minced garlic, cook until they’re basically “confused” (slightly drier than scrambled, I guess you’d say), sprinkle with black pepper, some ketchup, and cayenne pepper sauce. The ketchup was to substitute for the salsa I normally include with the cooking portion, and had forgotten I’d finished over the weekend.