Ignoring The Stopwatch

I did something yesterday while I was working out that I have never done since I started training five years ago. Rather, I didn’t do something.

I didn’t time my rest periods.

In the past I’ve certainly NOT RECORDED my rest periods, or been NOT ANAL about them (oh my god, I’ve rested thirty seconds over two minutes, WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO WRITE DOWN!?) but I’ve never been totally unaware of generally how long it was since my last set.

When my dad got me started with lifting when I was fourteen, he didn’t lord over me on the machines. He was right next to me working antagonist groups, but he never said: GO NOW. DO THE SET RIGHT NOW. END OF THE WORLD IN FIVE MINUTES AND YOU STILL HAVE THREE SETS.

Nope. Just “when you’re done with your set, look at the clock. After two minutes, do your next set.” So I did.

Sometimes a set would take longer than another because I recently bumped weight, or whatever. He had his own workout going on and would peek over from time to time to make sure I was using my biceps and not my ass when I did curls, but he didn’t count my reps for me. He didn’t count my rest periods for me. He kept it simple and chimed in if I was doing something horribly wrong.

In all my recent efforts to reduce complexity in my program, I’ve just found that I’m still programming my rest periods as though they really mean something. So I decided to leave the watch in the locker and just go whenever I’m ready.

Just as I thought I would, I recovered from warm-up sets quickly (in many cases, significantly less than the two minutes I prescribe myself on my workout tearsheets) and needed an undetermined longer amount of time to recover from the top sets on down.

What was once pushing three hours to do got knocked out in about an hour-and-a-quarter. Accounting for the additional 30 minutes of steady cardio I tacked on as part of a “moar srs” fat loss effort and it’s still roughly an hour of time saved.

I’m certainly feeling the after-effects of the workout now, more than I did when I took those extra minutes, but I LIKE that. It’s not a debilitating level of soreness, just “hey man, take it easy.” Which is what I want to feel on my rest days!

Speaking of rest days: I’m reconsidering my approach to frequency as well, meaning the number of times per week I work out. I can get by on one or two workouts a week, and it really isn’t a broken or horribly rigid scheme to begin with.

But MAYBE I could do more, and I’d like to allow myself the opportunities to try, should they present themselves.

Simply, my approach to rest intervals, both between sets and between workouts, is this:

“Wait until you’re comfortable, without getting RELAXED, and go again.”

That was my subvocalization yesterday, talking to myself so I wouldn’t feel obligated to check the clock.

Workout for Tuesday, February 23, 2010

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300GET

Yay. I get to post content!

I mean pictures. I get to post pictures.

Yeah.

I wanted Reese's Pieces but I pushed F7 instead of F8; do you want my liquorice or not!?

JESUS CHRIST IT'S A LION GET IN THE CAR!

Date on this picture is when all these were taken. Took a damn while to get them uploaded, I dare say!

A subtle 'fuck you' to haters of the greyscale.

That is all.

No moar.

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not meaning faggot like a dicksucker

So every once in a while I find someone who isn’t quite pleased with the way I behave.

I think we all know somebody like this.

Fortunately, I didn’t have to deal with this person myself. This person was amongst the legion of libelous lunatics linked to L.

Granted, these folks have their share of legitimate accusations. But he doesn’t, which makes him a curious annoyance. Before she decided that she hated me, L’s mother talked to me on the phone once. (And by that I mean “one time” as opposed to “once upon a time.” A single conversation.) She told me this particular son of hers worked in a field with some synergy to my own. I’m a film actor, he is a producer of some sort. Music videos I think she said. I later recall some nonsense about him using his littler-than-the-one-I’m-banging sister for a horror film.

Okay cool. Whatever. But cool. Mom’s trying to establish some sort of common ground to get me to lower my defenses and TALK to her, which I needed and was more clever of her than was probably intentional, but it gave me a reason to add the bastard on Facebook later.

I should note that I have never actually spoken to this guy. All I know about him was the aforementioned film interest, and that he was going to let my girl L live with him to get away from mom when she was old enough to do so.

So basically, until today, a guy I had just assumed was a chill chap confirmed his complete cretinism. An unfortunate disorder, surely:

Kau, kid. I can’t handle that Eric (sp?) kid anymore. For some reason he ended up as my friend and his weird gay shit is pissing me off. You can do what you want, but honestly, if I saw that kid, no teeth. Ever. Sorry kid. Lova ya.

Now, not meaning faggot like a dicksucker. That doesn’t really bother me. He’s just a fag. Major douchenozzle. Waste of space. Sorry if you like him, but damn, he’s the antithesis of a man.

-Jo

He didn’t say this to me, naturally, because he’s a nigger. Now, not meaning nigger like a black person. That doesn’t really bother me. He’s just a jerk. Major picklesniffer. Waste of time. Sorry if you like him, but damn, he actually thinks homosexuality is an insult.

All complaints regarding my personality are of course forwarded to my secretary of slanderous shit. In this case that person was our mutual relation, who graciously defended me:

Ok. 1: You didn’t have to accept the [friend] request! 2. Shut the fuck up about calling people names. Touch him and I will never speak to you again. I’ve tolerated it up to now and enough is enough. I’m sick of everyone bringing him up like that. Forget he ever exists, do something so I don’t have to hear this bullshit and the same goes with talking to him.

If I find you you are talking to him I won’t speak to you. Your immaturity towards this is nonsense.

-L

She’s just great. I love that gal. For all the shit she puts up with just for liking me, she doesn’t seem to place any blame on me and stands by what she believes is true.

That’s a woman, damn it.

Take notes.

I was going to do this whole "Silver Surfer kissing Nova" thing, but I wasn't bald enough.

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Too Much

You know when you look back at when you stopped doing something, and blame whatever it was around that time that influenced you to stop, as the reason you’re presently unsuccessful in whatever you do?

Been feeling that a lot lately.

Anyway, I did a lot of walking this week. More than I am metabolically adapted to, anyway, which I suppose is… any at all… but then it was quite a bit more than that. I believe I have at least three hours of “walking a little faster than what’s comfortable, because that’s more comfortable than being out in this temperature.” I also got quite a bit of oblique work, sliding around on the fuck-ice. I slid down two concrete blocks (squares-in-the-sidewalk.)

As I stepped out of that slide, I very nearly did a Home Alone style fall-on-ass. But I reversed it halfway and torqued the shit out of my right oblique and left shoulder (left arm carrying a shopping bag with a two-liter diet cola in it.) Then the streetlight came on overhead, I got a cheery “fuck yeah bro!” from a gas station across the street, and went back to my Oma’s in a sorely optimistic mood.

Sadly, all this walking and especially this slippery episode led to a weak workout. One of less reps and skipped oblique work.

I mean, my obliques are an isolation exercise, and if I skip them then only that part doesn’t get worked. But only my left shoulder hurt and I still needed to get some pressing in for my chest; unfortunately it’s a compound movement. That means shoulders are along for the ride. It sucked because I could have definitely squeezed out reps to at LEAST MATCH my previous workout, but that shoulder probably would have exploded, and I’m not training to failure anyway.

Even though I haven’t been counting my calories (except on Monday,) I’m pretty sure I’ve been eating near-maintenance. Or just a little bit above what my body is telling me I need. I’m going to fast throughout Sunday and hope for the best. Hopefully by Monday I’ll be recuperated in whatever relevant dimensions and get in a solid depletion-style workout.

Workout for Friday, February 19th, 2010

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Show Prep

I had a workout on Friday evening around 5PM, to prepare for a walking audition (I still don’t know what to call the modeling interviews) for a show to benefit a school in India in May.

I don’t think I’m even being considered. I’m overweight, oversize, and my posing sucked. I HAD TO TURN LEFT.

Nevertheless I did what I could to prepare for it, which was also sabotaged by a ‘fuck it I’m with my buddy’ attitude. I went to the YMCA with him to show him where to go to do the exercises I laid out for his routine (it’s a machine program and you’d think that it’d be no-brainer material. And it is.) while I joggy-walked to the opposite end of the gym to get a very low volume/low intensity workout in myself.

I would have loved to have done a six-setted depletion torture session, but I wanted to be done when he was done (he drove, of course) and I had limited physical resource anyway. I was still torn up from Wednesday’s workout, which felt easy-balls at the time, but which was now mocking me mercilessly. I had no problem skipping my legs this workout. He had no such luxury, and it feels good to find out he was barely even half-squatting, making him go below knee with the same weight, and watching him stumble around afterwards.

Mean, yes, but totally worth it.

I had him take conservative loading parameters nonetheless as I checked for form. I also threw in direct arm work at the end for both of us, him because I want him to get his compounds in with the best form possible, and still be able to do his favorite bro-lifts. I didn’t harass him on form for his curls. He did preacher curls with good-enough form, and he needs to feel like he’s at least a little bit competent so he doesn’t give up the second I’m not around to badger him.

Back at his house we had a camerafag posedown. I still don’t have abs, and he’s skinny enough to have them be visible if he understood (despite multiple explanations) the concept of progressive overload. Which he will soon enough now that he has starting weights for all his lifts and a program that doesn’t change other than “bump weight when you hit the rep ceiling.”

So by no means is my workout from Friday worth shit. I’m just recording it so I understand where my gym frequency is at. I have, over this week, probably overate again. Tomorrow (Sunday) marks Day One if I decide to look at this from a “Fifteen Weeks Out” perspective. Which I am.

I wish I had those pictures, my shoulders look ridiculous and I love it.
EDIT: Pictures are here.

Workout for Friday, February 12th, 2010

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The Valentine’s Mixtape

Nothing says loneliness like a mixtape amirite?

These days kids are making youtube playlists. Or I do. But I’m an ADULT.

So whatever. The point is I’ve got a pretty pitiful love life and nobody to actually create an entire playlist for. I don’t even really listen to enough music nor pay attention to the subtleties of personality (SITE NAME, THANK YOU) to do that kind of shit.

Rather, I thought back, waaay back about half of my life ago, and tried to associate a song to someone I either dated or should have dated. The ‘should have dated’ list is a lot shorter than what I was expecting it to be, for the key reasons that: I don’t remember people who I ultimately don’t care about, and even if I do remember them and think I should have dated them, I probably didn’t hang around them enough to associate a song.

And if I did manage to associate a song, well, that would mean they’re in the mix.

So it begins.

click for the list

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Butthurt Workout

Seriously? It was one more set of deadlifts than usual, and my glutes are WAY too sore.

I wanted to do some kind of extra work so I could offset some of those extraneous carbs I’d been eating. I probably put on a legitimate pound or two of fat recently. Not going to know for sure until after I drop all this water weight.

Which I’ll have to do in short order for this modeling audition I have on Saturday. This Sunday, however, marks 15 weeks until my goal date is reached. I have to look my best by this date. For two reasons: it’s the first major event in my town, and it marks the beginning of summer.

I am NOT wasting another summer dieting. Fuck that. I don’t care how awful I think I look on the day: May 30, I stop dieting, and get a loaded fucking hotdog at the flea market.

If I’m still 156lbs. @ 16.8% bodyfat, and all the weight I lose is fat (unlikely, but it’s the numbers I have to work with): I could lose one pound a week and get down to 146lbs. @ 11%BF or so in ten weeks.

If I get to 12% or so, that’s roughly 7-8lbs. lost. That puts me about 5lbs. away from 9% and five weeks to do it.

THE BEST ASSUMPTION: I don’t know where the hell I’m at, but I’m going to diet in a moderate way for ten weeks, then five weeks out from goal I’ll go completely batshit intense and lose as hard as I can.

• February 14 – April 25: 10 weeks of moderate dieting. 10-20% caloric deficit or somesuch; twice weekly workouts.
• April 25 – May 30: 5 weeks of severe dieting. Up to 30% caloric deficit; workouts x5/wk. The same workout setup, but likely to have more cardio involved.

I really highly doubt I’m going to get to single digit before summer hits. Oh well. I think I’ll have to live with getting to 12% and living with it for a while.

Click for the workout!- ~ Wednesday, February 10, 2010-

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Almost-Fast Training

I have restructured my eating habits once again after an irritating set of circumstances led me to a wasted refeed.

Thursday I refed, Friday I missed my workout, Saturday I fasted, Sunday I worked out and refed again.

Refeeding before a workout has been my intention as I am always strongest the day after a refeed. Furthermore, since I spend most of the day not eating following a workout while I wait to be picked up, I just integrate that as the beginning of my fast. However, this has not proven to be the most flexible way of working things. If I miss a workout, I wind up in caloric excess, as I’ll wind up redoing the refeed. I could just pay better attention (thus solving a variety of problems at once) but I’m trying to condition responses so that I can automate/habitualize this nonsense so I don’t have to think about what I’m doing as often.

I think I’m just going to cut out refeeds from my plan, they are too much of a hassle.

I’ll just re-evaluate my maintenance needs and configure them so that they are more satisfying, and be more vigilant with my dedicated fasting days.

Workout for Sunday, February 7th, 2010

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10-20 Depletion

Stats
Weight: 164lbs.
Body Fat Percentage: 15.6%

This was a rather simple workout. High volume, high reps, lots of misery, low weights. Everything listed is machines, except for bicep curls. Those are dumbbells.

Mostly to shuffle out a lot of water weight. I took some pictures of myself at “full-bloat” post-birthday gorging. Later this week I’ll upload those in comparison to ones of full depletion.

The major thing about this workout was discovering the weight to use for each life. Once upon a time, I used whacks of calculators and attempts to extrapolate isolation lift estimations from muscular contribution in compound exercises. Fuck that, I just tried shit.

Workout for Monday, February 1, 2010

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