To Be Perfectly Honest

Find Press 1 Rep Max

77#/80#/80#/81# Fail

Then:

Five rounds for total reps of:

Front Squat @ body weight, 30 seconds
Rest 30 seconds
Bench Press @ body weight, 30 seconds
Rest 30 seconds
Sprint 100 meters
Take rest of minute to rest. 

Squat: 8/8/8/7/8 (60#)
Bench: 13/14/13/10/10 (60#) 

I really didn’t want to do any of this. What I really wanted to do was lay on the couch and each dark chocolate truffles. Partly because I didn’t feel good – I really and honestly had raging headache. I also didn’t feel good mentally. I was supposed to go to a play tonight but I didn’t want to go because I am ashamed of how fat I’ve let myself get. My weight has been creeping steadily upwards since my dad passed away five years ago. The eating has been to fill the hole his passing left, and also to alleviate the stress that has been in my life since then. His death turned my life into chaos. I wanted to quit my job right away and come home to help my mom with the family business, which she intended to run alone. She wouldn’t let me, so I tried to do both. Recipe for disaster. I ended up quitting anyway after a blowup with my employer. He and I didn’t see eye to eye in the first place and that ate me up as well.

Sometimes I feel like I am being torn into little tiny pieces. I try to be in two or three places at one time and sometimes it just isn’t possible to get everything done. My mom helps me out financially, but money is still tight and I feel guilty for letting her give me some cash. She tells me I deserve it for all the work I do for her, but I don’t know, it still shames me a little. Pride is a terrible thing.

So take all that guilt, stress, worry and exhaustion and stir it up a little to make a bubbling cauldron of bile. The mistake I have been making for the last five years is feeding the beast with ice cream, chocolate, cookies and other evil but delicious things. Instead of dealing with my issues head on I deflect them with cheesecake. And really, what problem can’t a little cream cheese and sugar solve?

Well, all I have accomplished is to add another level of misery to my already heavily layered angst. But, unlike my other problems, I know how to solve this one. Eat better and get under the bar. A lot.

So that is the state I found myself in tonight. Frustrated incorporated.

I thought, “Ah, I can do the presses at least. I want to see if my one rep max went up after three months of Wendler 5/3/1.” So I started there. And it did go up – one pound. But, as paltry as that may seem, 80# presses have been my nemesis for quite some time. And I did it twice, so it wasn’t a fluke.

Victory number one.

Now for the conditioning workout. I ran through every excuse in the book to try and talk myself out of it. Really, these three exercises are the worst possible things for me to do. If someone planned a workout and said “Let’s see if we can tick Tami off and injure her at the same time” they couldn’t have done a better job. I hate squats, and I hate front squats with a deep and burning passion. I also hate benching, but I am beginning to make my peace with it. Running. Meh, at least it was only 100 meters. Considering that I have torn ligaments or tendons or something in both my knees I really could have gave myself a pass on this one. But then I thought “I am sitting here all alone because I was too ashamed of my body to go out in public.” That is PATHETIC. I slapped myself upside the head (figuratively, of course) and got my fat butt under the bar.

And I did the whole workout. And I didn’t hurt myself. And I’m better for it.

Victory number two.

Tonight is the start of a long, hard, painful road to recovery. I know it’s going to hurt, and I know it’s going to be hard. But the alternative is unthinkable.

Here we go.

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