I am one of the pilot participants in Fitocracy’s online coaching program, so if you want to get my brains-on advice to whip your ass into shape in the tender, loving, and inexorably enabling way you’d expect from Yours Truly, they’re offering my services at a bargain introductory rate, with the beatings to commence on February 17th.
If you or someone you know is terrified in a good way of giving this a try, feel free. I won’t be crueler or kinder to friends, frienemies, or total strangers.
 Which is to say, if you say you want to accomplish something, I will not let you give up. I am a right fucking bastard like that.
There’s this thing that happens when your friends know you “do fitness stuff”. It’s akin to the Pickup Truck Call, in that you’re top-of-mind when it comes to moving things, especially large, awkward, or heavy things. This is expected and, usually, fairly entertaining, because there’s usually food and stuff as thanks, plus… hey, free bonus exercise. :-)
There’s also the inevitable wallpapering of stuff that captures social media mindshare, which Oatmeal’s treatise on running did when he posted it recently.
Since I am perennially a man without a hat, I can make that joke in conjunction with taking delivery of my new EFTS safety squat bar.
Did some empty bar reps in the living room to get a feel for it after I attached the handles. I think it’ll work out well.
Now, if I can dispel the tightness, soreness, and swelling from my right ankle/calf/knee so I can try and squat heavy to explore my approximate 1RM tomorrow, that would be lovely. I’ll be thrilled with 405#, and not dissatisfied with anything over 365. Deadlifts are similarly mentally anticipated to have lost about 10% from my PR last year, so 455#+ is really what I’m looking for with a conventional pull.
Benching was a surprisingly non-deprecated 245# (only lost 20# off my PR despite the months and months of injured discomfort and bullshit) and my overhead press was a nearly complete shock – a 15# PR of 180# (I was really hoping for a 1xBW rep @ 190#, but 185# wasn’t getting up more than halfway).
So, I did one of those mud runs (Mudzilla) over the weekend. This was me, trying like hell to remain upright and photogenic, after finishing. I am not fast. I am, in fact, embarassingly slow by my standards… but at least I was as fast as everyone else from my office who participated.
Yes, I have a large grease pencil X on my forehead, because… what are you, new?
Not for finally figuring out how to swing the goddamned bat
man in my softball league, though inside-the-park homers in two straight games, and finally getting the ball to the fence in center field is testament to that.
No, this is simply shallow vanity. I’m finally looking more like I want to look.
… or, in this case, me.
(Info comes courtesy of blood donations to Florida Blood Services‘ wellness summary.)
Sue me, I just got done with a two-hour upper body workout, followed by some heavy logistics planning for hypothetical renovations; clever titular wordsmithing is not in the goddamned cards at the moment.
Anyways, here’s the state of the meat seven weeks into the year.