The Recomp Chronicles

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  • The Fit by 50 Recomp: Rebooting the Reboot

    So here’s the good news: I made it through vacation with only a couple of pounds gained. Not bad considering the sheer volume of burgers, buns, and ice cream consumed. I didn’t do measurements right before I left, but overall I felt like I held the line better than I have on past trips. Win.

    I gave myself the weekend to recover from travel—and then, with heroic resolve and a belly full of protein, I marched into Week 1, Phase 1 of my Fit by 50 Recomp on Monday.

    Let me rephrase that.

    I tried to march into Week 1.
    Instead, I was ambushed. By the desert.

    The Dry Air Deception

    Monday started off strong: gym session, walk with the dogs, mobility work, hydration on point. But there was this… dry scratchiness. My throat felt off. Not painful exactly, just dry. I figured it was from going from the sticky Michigan air to the vacuum-sealed atmosphere of Las Vegas.

    By the afternoon, it felt like someone had poured sand in my sinuses and lined my skull with cotton. Still, I was stubborn enough to hit KickFit that evening and sweat out approximately half my body weight.

    By bedtime, the truth hit me like a fist full of Kleenex:
    This wasn’t dry air. This was a full-blown virus.

    The Unraveling of the Master Plan

    I barely slept Monday night. My nose was a brick wall, and my brain had been replaced with packing material. Tuesday? A cotton-stuffed fever fog. I skipped my run—something I rarely do—because even I knew that was a terrible idea.

    Wednesday: Fever still lurking, throat like broken glass, no appetite, and zero desire to pretend I was a functioning human. I got a bit more sleep, but not enough to count. Thursday brought a little relief—less pressure, throat easing, fever gone—but still no hunger. I barely ate but did finally sleep like a rock.

    Plot Twist: Starting Over, Again

    And now it’s Friday. I’m about 85% human again. Not quite full Jedi, but I can breathe and form sentences, so we’ll call it progress.

    Tomorrow, I’ll take my Day 0 measurements and—cue dramatic music—begin Week 1, Phase 1… again.

    How’s the saying go?
    “See it again, for the first time.”

    It’s starting to feel more and more like something out of Star Wars. Maybe The Phantom Recomp. Or A New Hope (Again).

    Either way, I’m back. Hydrated. Mildly recovered. And ready to re-reboot the mission.

    Still lifting. Still losing. Still showing up. Even if the Force ghost of mucus tried to stop me.

  • Protein, Popsicles, and Peace of Mind: The Fit by 50 Vacation Protocol

    I’ve eaten more ice cream in the last week than I probably should have.

    And guess what? I’m not mad about it.

    Vacation mode hit hard and early this time—sunshine, sleep, and the kind of not-stressed-out eating that doesn’t involve a scale, an app, or a second thought. And I needed it.

    But let’s be real: this isn’t a total “screw it” kind of break. I’m still me. And “me” packs a protein bar next to the s’mores ingredients.

    The Vacation Nutrition Game Plan (Unspoken but Understood)

    • One bun per meal, max.

    Burgers, dogs—sure. But if I go back for seconds, it’s just the meat. Call it protein-forward cookout strategy.

    • Daily anchor habits:

    1 protein yogurt

    1 protein bar

    1 protein shake

    These three keep me grounded. If I can nail 75–90g of protein before dinner, I can enjoy my evening without playing macro math in my head.

    • S’mores? Every other day.

    It’s not no sweets, it’s controlled indulgence. Plus, they’re basically marshmallow creatine sandwiches, right?

    • Ice cream? Yeah… there’s been a lot of that.

    But it’s been hot. And good. And I’m not going to beat myself up for it.

    But the biggest win? Peace of mind.

    No late-night guilt.

    No frantic logging.

    No waking up feeling like I failed the plan.

    Just… rest. Walks with the family. Some light movement. A chance to actually feel good without chasing a number.

    This isn’t me slipping backward—it’s me pulling back the slingshot. Because when I get home, I’ll be ready to lock back in and get after it.

    The Mindset Shift That’s Working

    This trip reminded me of something I tend to forget when I’m deep in the grind: sometimes the best gains happen in the pause. I’ve been consistent. I’ve earned this breather. And when I step back in, it won’t be from scratch—it’ll be from strength.

    Still lifting. Still losing. Still showing up. (Just not logging my popsicles.)

  • Delay, Divert, Don’t Derail

    What a Miserable Travel Day Taught Me About Recomp and Resilience

    What was supposed to be an 8-hour travel day turned into a 30-hour endurance test with surprise airport meals, sleep deprivation, and existential rage. But hey — I’m in Michigan, I’ve got clean underwear, and no one ended up in the no-fly list. I’ll call that a victory.

    The Flight Plan That Failed

    Vegas to Chicago? Smooth sailing. Then… Chicago to Hancock happened.

    Our 55-minute flight was delayed repeatedly due to the inbound plane detouring two hours out of its way to avoid a storm. Cool, whatever. We passed the time by eating at an airport restaurant. I kept it reasonable — burger and fries — and figured that would tide me over for the short connection. I don’t eat much on flight days anyway, since my stomach tends to hate me at altitude.

    Eventually, the plane landed and we boarded. We sat. And sat. In the dark. With a PA system that barely worked. For nearly two hours. No real explanations, no movement. Just vague chaos and the smell of stale pretzels (mmmmm, pretzels).

    Finally, we take off — 6 hours behind schedule — and eventually start our descent into Hancock. Landing gear comes down. We see the runway. Then? The plane suddenly pulls up. Landing gear goes back up. The flight attendant’s voice comes on, muffled and barely audible:

    “Uh… the pilots said we don’t have enough gas to attempt another landing. So we’re heading back to Chicago.”

    Dafuq?

    Back to Chicago we go. Land again. 4 a.m. Now they’re telling us we’ll re-board this exact same plane at 8 a.m. for another attempt. They say they’ll send us some hotel and food vouchers for the inconvenience, but who’s gonna leave the airport to get a hotel and sleep for an hour to come back to the airport and go through security again? No food vouchers came through either. No sleep, no food, just gate chairs and dashed hopes.

    Body vs. Willpower (feat. The Dry Sandwich of Shame)

    At first, I held strong. Just a burger and fries. I figured I’d eat properly once we landed. But by 6 a.m., I was cracked out on stress, sleep-deprived, and starting to fade fast. I didn’t pack snacks because, well, we were supposed to be in Michigan by then.

    So I caved.

    In a moment of desperation, I bought a breakfast sandwich from Dunkin’ Donuts, thinking it might be at least a notch above McDonald’s. Friends, it was not. It was dry. Overcooked. Sad. It tasted like missed lifts and broken macros.

    Honestly? I should’ve gone full gremlin and gotten the McGriddle. At least then the regret would’ve been delicious.

    But you know what? One airport sandwich doesn’t ruin a transformation. Calories don’t count on travel days. I’m 97% sure that’s a real law, or at least something whispered by fellow lifters next to the B-terminal Cinnabon.

    Reframe and Resume

    Eventually, we got rebooked — thanks to my wife going full chat-agent ninja and getting us on a new flight on the far side of the airport. That side, it turns out, is much nicer and has comfy chairs. Noted.

    We landed in Hancock 24 hours after leaving Las Vegas. Our luggage even arrived an hour later on the flight that we were originally booked on.

    Once we got to the house, we ate an ungodly amount of food, collapsed, and slept over 10 solid hours. I’m now officially in vacation mode — eating well (mostly), planning on walking daily, and not thinking about gym PRs or macro spreadsheets for a bit.

    Final Thoughts: Don’t Judge the Stalls

    This wasn’t the trip I planned. And honestly? It sucked. But so do plateaus, injuries, stress binges, and unexpected life chaos. The trick isn’t avoiding them — it’s not letting them define the next move.

    So if you’ve ever had a “go around” moment — where you were almost there but had to circle back — I get it. We all do. That doesn’t mean you’re off course. It means you’re learning how to fly through turbulence.

    Still lifting. Still losing. Still showing up. Usually.

  • Meet Bane: The Dog Who Doesn’t Believe in Rest Days

    We got Bane from a Basset rescue when he was about six months old. He’s been part of the family ever since—30% nose, 60% attitude, and 100% in charge of my cardio.

    Bane is an extremely good boy. He’s also allergic to basically everything: food, dust, air, joy, you name it. He’s on special hydrolyzed food, takes Apoquel daily (sometimes twice), and his treats are limited to ice cubes and vegan marshmallows—which is either adorable or tragic, depending on how you look at it.

    He also gets frequent skin infections and has to be wiped down daily like a sweaty gym bench, and bathed in special shampoo once or twice a week. The goal is to get him into a full allergy treatment program, which could run around $5,000. I’ve picked up a second job to help cover it, but in the meantime, I set up a Ko-fi page to support his care.

    If you’d rather support with action instead of cash, I’ve made something for that too.

    🎁 Download Bane’s Daily Walk Log – a printable tracking sheet for you (or your dog) to log daily walks, sniff sessions, and silent resentment toward squirrels.

    Thanks for supporting Bane, this blog, and my attempt to get fit without falling apart.
    He might ruin my sleep and ignore rest days, but he’s family.

    🐶💤
    Martin & Bane
    The Recomp Chronicles

  • Day Zero: Fat(ish), Flat-Footed, and Fired Up

    Welcome to The Recomp Chronicles.

    This blog marks the official start of a long-overdue transformation. I’m a 49-year-old desk jockey who’s been skinny, strong, soft, and sore—but never truly fit. That’s about to change.

    This isn’t a guru blog. I’m not here to sell you on magic routines or “one weird trick” that’ll melt your gut in 10 days. I’m doing this the slow, hard, honest way: lifting, running, recovering, and trying not to burn out—or disappear again—when life gets messy.

    🔎 The Baseline: Fitness Test Week

    Here’s where I’m starting as of June 2, 2025:

    📊 Stats:

    • Weight: 204.6 lbs
    • Body Fat: 27.08%
    • Neck: 14.08 in
    • Waist: 38.34 in
    • Goal: 175 lbs, 14–15% body fat, 32” waist

    🧠 Mobility & Posture

    • ❌ Can’t touch toes
    • ❌ Can’t do a wall slide without major hip arch

    🧱 Core & Control

    • Plank: 60s (mild psoas pain early)
    • Step-downs: 20 reps each leg (solid control)

    🦵 Lower Body

    • Wall Sit: 45s (shoes slipping)
    • Bodyweight Squats (1 min): 29 reps (full depth)

    💪 Upper Body

    • Dead Hang: 45s (grip holding, elbows sore)
    • Pull-Ups: 5 strict, no assist
    • Push-Ups: 15 (elbow pain)
    • Dips: 8 (no pain)

    🏃 Cardio

    • 1-Mile Run: 10:34
    • Avg HR: 149 BPM
    • Notes: Psoas pain early, faded after a few blocks

    🎒 What’s Next?

    I’ll be heading to Michigan for a couple of weeks, so the full training program won’t launch until mid-July. But I’m not vanishing. I’ll be walking, hitting mobility, and doing what I can not to come back packing a bunch of vacation fluff.

    Until then, I’ll be using this space to post updates, log some workouts, maybe upload a couple of fitness trackers or mobility sheets, and start getting Lean Leroy—the stick-figure version of my alter ego—warmed up.

    Whether you’re just here to lurk or laugh at my attempts, welcome. This blog is for guys like me: mid-life, tired of the yo-yo, and ready to finish what we’ve started a dozen times before.

    Still lifting.
    Still losing.
    Still showing up. Usually.