Roughly a month ago, I got a cold. No biggie. Except it didn’t go away. It got better, then it got worse. On and on and on. Everybody told me to go to the doctor, but of course I didn’t listen because the last time I went they told me I had bronchitis and antibiotics wouldn’t do anything for it. Then they promptly wrote me a prescription for… antibiotics. WTF?
So I thought I would wait it out. After five freaking weeks of no improvement I finally caved and saw the doc. She diagnosed me with a sinus infection and gave me a good tongue lashing about how I should have come in like three weeks earlier. Now I have a fourteen day cycle of antibiotics and some sort of steroid I have to squirt up my nose.
Awesome, I’m on roids! Legally!
So I missed five weeks of training, save for a few days of lifting here and there. Now I’ve got a huge hole to climb out of again. Crud.
I finally got a workout in today and I didn’t feel half bad:
Shoulder Press – Week 1, Cycle 5
5 reps @ 65% 1RM – 50#
5 reps @ 75% 1RM – 57#
5 reps @ 85% 1RM – 64# (9 reps)
rest a few minutes and then:
As many rounds as possible in 12 minutes:
5 Reps Locked Overhead (anyway possible) 73 lbs
7 Ball Slams 10 lbs
9 Push Ups
5 rounds plus 3 overhead
That started my day out pretty good. I had that lovely, post workout glow going on. Then I realized my shoulder hurt – a lot. Crud. After that I realized the workout said 5 reps locked overhead, not “ground to overhead”, which I did. So I did 28 completely unneccessary cleans. Crud. Then I decided to weigh the bar I used for the shoulder presses. Turns out it is 25#, not 30# like I had been told when I bought it five years ago. So that means every freaking lift I have done with that bar for the last five years has been five pounds lighter than I thought they were. Crud doesn’t even begin to cover how I feel about that one. I feel so… so… stupid, for one thing. Depressed for another. Turns out I’m five pounds weaker than I thought I was, and I already thought I was pretty darn weak.
Then I made breakfast. I cut up two pieces of bacon, put them in the frying pan and wandered off for five minutes to do something else. Sniff, sniff – something smells funny. Off to the kitchen I go to find a frying pan with smoke roiling out of it. I almost burned the entire house down. Not kidding. So I deal with that crisis and put another pan of bacon on and promptly burn that too, even though I was standing right there staring at it.
The calamities continued throughout the day, and are not really worth going into except to say that I wound up in a really, really bad mood.
Must be the roid rage.