SATURDAY: 60 mins
96.5kg, BMI 27.5
WARMUP: spin bike, standing leg extensions, pullups, deadlifts, stretching
Deadlift: 10, 8, 6, 4 @ 100kg, 110kg, 125kg, 135kg
CIRCUIT:
Leg curl: 12, 9, 6 @ 45kg, 50kg, 55kg
Pullup: 14, 10*, 10*
[10th rep of 2nd set was a "skip-kip" and the last 4 reps of 3rd set were negatives.]
CIRCUIT:
Stiff-leg deadlift: 10, 8, 6 @ 85kg, 90kg, 95kg
Lever bench row: 10, 8, 8 @ 80kg, 90kg, 110kg
CIRCUIT:
Standing glute extension: 14, 12, 10 @ 55kg, 60kg, 65kg
Ab cable pulldown: 36, 32, 28 @ 30kg, 32.5kg, 35kg
Felt a slight kink in my left lumbar on the tail-end of the 3rd set of deadlifts. I was cautious the rest of the workout and fortunately no pain came of it. I felt very strong on the lever row (obviously?). I was exhausted Thursday and Friday, so I made sure to get good sleep. Thus I further shifted my already shifted routine to the weekend. Tomorrow I will do A4 and will go ahead with A1 on Monday. I want to give my legs a full week of recovery before I start SMR.
Odd admission: I wonder if the weightlifting is making me more aggressive, more "edgy". I've heard of "roid rage". Mind you, I'm not on anabolic steroids!––but physical stress does release testosterone and natural growth hormones. There is also certainly something to the mythic muscle/anger issues in the Hulk comic book. I think part of it is also that I usually have coffee before I work out, as a "stim", and I know caffeine can make me edgy. Another factor is the inveterate pride of my flesh.
Two things were really annoying me today. First, this skinny "pud" kept walking around with a "trainer" while the trainer went on and on about which exercises train which muscles. “少話，多功！”was all I could hear in my mind ("Less talk, more effort!"). Second, another waif was walking around with a weight belt on, but he wasn't lifting anything near what would require a belt. "Poser, poser!" was the refrain for that annoyance. He was at the gym before I arrived and still there "working out" when I left. Inefficient. Aimless. At one point he was doing bent-over barbell rows while I was doing the lever row. He never increased his weight or adjusted his rep count. Just going through the motions. It drove me nuts to have him next to me. But I did my best to focus my attention on my own body, my own weakness, my own regimen.
Why did I want to smack these guys? Probably because I felt they were ruining the atmosphere for me––the steady flow of Japanese pop songs didn't help, either. You either use fellow gym monkeys to spur you on as models to catch up with, or, in my case today, as galling examples to avoid: "I don't want to be like that guy. Here I am, busting my ass on heavy lifts, while he's just carving his bamboo-thin frame with confused motions and chit-chat." I've written before how the competitive edge––and thus edginess––is endemic to sports, so I'm not too worried about my aggression today. I confess it to God, release it, and just treat it as a function of my "pumped" self at various moments. It ain't me otherwise, don't worry! I loves all God's chillun!
Stay tuned.
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