Powerlifting, the ungodly awesome strength builder; Is that supposed to happen? The zipper tearing like that?
As the title implies I've been getting back into powerlifting. I had been doing hypertrophic since before finishing high school, but I never really grasped the importance of various forms of lifting, so only in the past year or so did I start powerlifting. The marked improvement I saw was hindered by my own pitiful inability to stick to a regimine--lo, and my terrible spelling was witnessed!
These past few weeks I have been powerlifting every other day, filling the void in between with technique building, as well as a steady jog on the tread before and after each workout as a warm up/cool down. The gains are almost unbelievable. There was a time when I was visibly muscular in the arms, before my geyness--with an E, and laziness, ruined what I'd managed to achieve. But now I'm rebuilding the muscles in my chest, shoulders, arms, neck, core and back, as well as adding to my already buff--if I do say so myself(since no one else will!)--leg muscles.
There has arisen a problem however, I have gained back just about every ounce of fat I lost over these last couple weeks because of the damn Whey, complex carbs, amino acids, etc, etc! Its necessary to recover from the Hell I'm putting myself through, but I--sadly--am no longer in that magic zone where you can lose fat and build muscle at once, meaning I'll have to start that stupid wave thing! I hate the wave thing!
Diet is about the same. However, my family purchases some kind of box of Oreo's from Sam's Club that contains sleeves of Oreo's reminiscent of Girl Scout Thin Mints..except with Oreo's. Suffice to say, I have reawakened my Oreo's addiction! God damn my family's unhelpfulness--lo and blah, blah, blah, you get the point.
Also, a horrible, horrible thing happened tonight. I was downstairs hitting the heavy bag. I have it mounted on this shitbiscuit Everlast ceiling mount that I've been meaning to replace, just hadn't. Well, the nut holding the bag mount, to the ceiling mount spun off its bolt and the bag fell on the ground. Well, I was into it, so I jumped into the full mount and started hammering away with elbows, punches, and whatnots. Well, the top of the bag, held closed by a zipper, popped and that random fiberous material inside bags and boxing gloves spewed across my floor.
My brain made a joke about me making my opponent's head explode, but when I realized I couldn't zip it back up...I was sad, uber sad. So now I have to look into a much higher quality heavy bag, and a high quality ceiling mount. More of my money down the drain! F*CK!
Overall, success(ish). Going to a friend's birthday party tomorrow and am seeing people I haven't seen in over a year. I'm hoping they notice a change for the positive, both physiologically and psychologically. I wonder if its selfish or concieted to hope for such a thing...well, I'll find out tomorrow!
Sig courtesy of that photo-matic magician limba
I went out the way that I fight. I went out on my shield. That’s it. Done. --Chuck Liddell
My goal is to end my opponent --Carlos Condit