T totalling

Some things are easy to gauge — strength and endurance and weight — because we have the tools at our disposal to measure them. Other things are trickier — sleep quality, or various nutritional balances — but still within the realm of doable for someone who is attentive and attuned to how their body works. But for some things, there’s no real substitute for professional diagnostics and evaluation.

And this brings us to today’s subject, which is going to come as something of a surprise to most readers.

Your not so humble scribe has what has somewhat coyly become known as “Low T.”

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Hired Guns

Arthur Saxon performing a bent press.

Image via Wikipedia

Traditionally, I have turned to friends for mentoring and motivation (at least when the latter is not to be found in sufficient quantities internally). However, a couple of the generally-accepted bits of conventional wisdom when it comes to strength training is that, 1) you’re going to hit a plateau, 2) you need to be around people stronger than you, and 3) everything works for a while, but nothing works forever.

To mitigate all three of those things, and at the back-handed suggestion of the guy a mutual acquaintance and I call as “our Tall Friend,” I reached out to Josh Bryant, of JoshStrength.com.

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Primal Blueprint Challenge

Thank/blame Batty for this, but, yeah, I’m another of the folks looking at the MDA “primal blueprint challenge” and saying “yeah, I can do that.”


Of course, today’s workout, in the wake of Dragon*Con, was “try to get some sleep and rid myself of con*crud and go shopping for healthy food.”

The Break

In the course of re-drilling the holes through the 6×6 posts that will form the uprights of an outdoor chinup/gymnastic ring setup, the drill bit got bound up, and the drill spun, taking my right hand with it through about 135 degrees of clockwise rotation. Something in the hand did not approve of this course of  action, and went “pop.”

I dropped the drill, said, “Ow! Shit!” and went inside to get some ice and cold water on it to prevent swelling (I took off the titanium band on that ring  finger, just in case) and assess the damage.

At which point, shock kicked in, and I went from uncomfortable but functional to woozy to “Where is my alarm clock, if I’m just waking up from a restful night’s sleep, replete with prosaic dreams?” I apparently blacked out for ten or fifteen seconds, including a few seconds of seizure-like twitching. Fortunately, K caught me and lowered me to the floor, then called 911. Minor, if completely justified, freaking out ensued, as did treating me for shock and getting me an ice pack for the hand.

Ten or fifteen minutes later, a couple of EMTs arrived to give me the once-over. I was still on the floor, just in case, and had a couple towels over me because I was apparently cold and clammy, but otherwise awake, aware, and was offering to talk to the dispatcher.

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Two By Two

Nothing whatsoever to do with Noah’s Ark. Continuing the exploration of the edges of my personal envelope in the form of 2 rep maxes. Today was Overhead Press and Squats.

Overall results were somewhat mixed, but held some surprises.

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Mocking the Stupid

Yes, this conversation has taken place at my house. The only reason it hasn't this morning is because... maybe my new keyboard is quieter than the old one.

Yes, this conversation has taken place at my house. The only reason it hasn't this morning is because my new keyboard is quieter than the old one.

Now, I could be coy, and play nice, and suggest that I understand the point of view espoused by Kent R. Rieske, B.Sc., and Bible Life Ministries.

But I won’t, because the man is simply a fucking idiot.

Actually, I don’t believe I’m stating that point strongly enough. However, I’m not going to resort to large fonts and blinking text and various other late-90’s hallmarks of Geocities’ personal pages. Just assume that there are flames, and blood, and skulls, and lots of animated .gifs clustered around the theme of “OH HELL NO.”

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Ow, my ass

This is not a direct reflection on the DOMS incurred from Tuesday’s squat session, but is instead a reaction to getting several CCs of antibiotics injected to begin the fight against some unwanted microbial interlopers.

Don’t have to take any time off, other than missing the last two evenings.

Overhead press will happen tomorrow, deadlifts Saturday, and bench as usual on Sunday.

Not sure if I’ll do anything special with the deads for my birthday, but we’ll see.

Today’s lunchtime workout was stolen straight from T-Nat.

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Not quite getting the hang of a Thursday*

15/9/3+ Overhead Press

While being terribly, frustratingly busy at the office is good for taking a late lunch (and, even at 3pm, there were folks in the office gym, somewhat surprisingly), it didn’t make for a particularly thrilling workout  – half an hour on the fairly-evil “cross country” program on the Precor elliptical.

After work, there was one moment of respite – the softball game got rained out, so we didn’t have to get our asses handed to us by a team with no business being in our league. Thus, I could get in my OHP workout without compromising my already compromised performance.

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[WotD] Thursday, July 8

15/9/3 – Overhead Press & Squats

We’ll call this one “Pyrrhic Victory,” since it was able to be performed in lieu of going to softball, since, naturally, the only moves that cause acute discomfort are throwing, swinging a bat, and all-out sprints. Since that’s about all I do, other than stand around,  talk shit to my teammates and opponents, and sweat like a motherfucker, it’s not exactly something I can perform in any kind of meaningful capacity.

A late lunch hour (230-330) was spent exploring those moves, discovering that they were too uncomfortable to be done at game speed, and subsequently stretched carefully, along with 20 minutes of moderately brisk walking on an increasingly steep treadmill while reading Joe Haldeman’s The Forever War.

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Walking (unlike an Egyptian)

Yeah, I thought the Bangles were cute. Then again, I was thirteen, and was only just barely beginning to think that girls might be fun to look at. The song, however, remains catchy.

Walking for more than a mile and a quarter with the pair of 36# kettlebells in 90+ F heat, however, continues to be deeply unpleasant.

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