The Recomp Chronicles

Tag: mental-health

  • The Week Where Nothing Stood Out

    The time change is throwing me off. Ivy woke me up at what would be my usual time of 4ish in the morning, but this morning, that’s 3 in the morning. Physically no different, but mentally…why the fuck am I up now?! Oh yeah, because the dogs don’t know we’re supposed to sleep later, they just know “I gotta go, so you gotta get up and take me” So now I’m sitting here after finishing my first cup of coffee and getting food prep done for the week ahead, and I sat down to reflect on the last week, and I’m coming up blank. Nothing really stands out. I guess not every week is a highlight reel. Some are just…fine. Steady. Unremarkable. And honestly? I guess I can live with that.

    This week I missed leg day because of an appointment, but then I got my runs in Tuesday and Thursday, and the calves are feeling a bit of alright, so that’ll be my win for the week.

    A few months ago, a “meh” week would’ve derailed me. I wanted the weekly PRs, whether lifting or running, but now, it’s just part of the plan. No drama, no meltdown, just stacking days. Lifting, running, sleeping (mostly), recovering, repeating.

    The work is starting to feel normal. Not always easy, especially when it’s cooling off a lot in the morning, so the desire to just curl up in an already warm bed sounds WAY better than going outside, but normal. And with the major “stuff your face” holidays coming up, I think normal is what I’ll need to keep from blowing myself up like an overstuffed turkey. (Is there such a thing as too much stuffing?!)

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

  • The Rise of Recomp

    A long time ago (2015) in a gym far, far away… I started a blog for accountability. And stopped writing the blog. And started again. And stopped again. You probably get where this is going. Each time was supposed to be the One, the version of me that would finally stick. Spoiler: they didn’t.

    Fast-forward a decade and here we are again, same guy, different decade, different town, different blog, same goal; to be the best and fittest version of me that I can be. This time it’s The Recomp Chronicles. A little older, possibly a little wiser, but finally honest enough to admit that maybe the journey doesn’t need to be cinematic (I was really dramatic before, oh woah is me). It just needs to keep going. Some weeks rock and I hit PRs and feel unstoppable, other weeks I hit walls and eat Krispy Kreme and want to just get fat and invent a suspension chair.

    This past week was a de-load; lighter weights, slower pace, more thinking than doing. And that’s fitting, because it’s hard not to look back at all the other “Day Ones.” The Michigan posts, the false starts, the posts that never made it past the first week. Turns out I’ve been the main character in the longest prequel series ever written.

    But things feel different now. Time will tell if it really is, but so far, I’m feeling good. As I found when I quit smoking back in the day, after dozens and dozens of starts and stops (stops and starts?), I only have to succeed once. So I keep moving forward on this journey, through the good (Yay 320 leg press) and the bad (I swear I didn’t eat the entire box of cereal…), the recovery and the sleepless nights.

    And by “succeed once, I don’t mean that I will never screw up and over indulge in ice cream, or pasta, and don’t get me started on holiday cookies and Thanksgiving food coma. What I mean is this time I fully understand that I will make mistakes as I go, but this time I will not quit on myself because of it. I’ll be like one of those old sticky wall toys, the kind that’s lost its shine, covered in dust, a little crusty, hanging there by one arm but refusing to let go. I’m faded, stretched, but still holding on.

    That’s the voice I want to bring to stage. I’m not the reboot, just the continuation.

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

  • Pivot! Pivot!

    This last week definitely didn’t turn out how I’d hoped.

    Monday’s gym session just felt off, like I could move the weights, but nothing felt right. I chalked it up to “Monday being Monday” and just moved on. With my calf still feeling off I didn’t try to run Tuesday, but by Tuesday late afternoon I could feel it: Itchy eyes, scratchy throat, cotton-headed. The sudden weather change to much cooler and rain had hit me good, so I made the one call I used to hate making: I hit pause. I took some OTC meds, ate my soup, drank my water and tea, and tried to get as much sleep as I could through the week. I didn’t try to force anything by going to the gym or trying to run or even walk, just let my body do what it needed.

    So the 6th week of Phase 2 turned into “Sick Week”, and instead of just picking up where I left off and pushing through what was scheduled to be the 7th week this coming week, I’m going to pivot and do my de-load next week. Lighter weights, fewer sets, and more mobility and stretching at home. Then, Phase 3 starts the first week of November, hopefully with a much healthier and more prepared me at the helm.

    So yeah, normally I would have tried to push through, but I’m learning that sometimes you have to use a little bit of strategery when life tries to knock you down. Pivot when you need and let your body guide you, it generally knows what it needs.

    Lessons from this week

    • Sometimes showing up means backing off.
    • Recovery is still work, just not as flashy.
    • A pivot isn’t failure; it’s adjustment. Long-term success builds on being able to adjust to the needs of the moment.
    • There will be times to push through; long runs, soreness, mental fatigue, but when you’re sick, or on the brink, pushing through just makes it worse and can lay you up longer. Take the break, eat the soup, drink the tea, get the sleep. Be good to yourself.

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

  • Fueling the Machine (Badly, Sometimes)

    This week was all about consistency, and about slamming face-first into the infamous wall. Four weeks into Phase 2, and shockingly, I haven’t fallen off the wagon yet. I’m not saying I’m a model of discipline, more like a slightly dented shopping cart that still manages to roll in the right direction despite one wheel wobbling worse than my legs after leg day.

    The training is steady, the runs are steady, and even my sleep is finally leveling out. Which, apparently, is the body’s cue to stop giving out “easy” wins. The scale? Mocking me. The mirror? Playing hard to get. My effort-to-result ratio right now feels about as rewarding as shouting into a hurricane.

    I’m guessing it’s normal, every program must hit this stretch (I haven’t been this far into a program in, possibly ever), but it still sucks. I’m doing the things, eating the stuff, logging everything, and the only thing dropping quickly is my patience.

    Now that the novelty’s worn off, I’m down to the nuts and bolts: food timing and recovery. It turns out you can’t just lob protein and carbs at your body whenever and expect superhero regeneration. Some days I nail the timing and feel unstoppable. Other days I mistime a meal and end up running on fumes, wondering if “hitting the wall” was supposed to be metaphorical or if I actually just blacked out mid-lift.

    Fear not, faithful blog reader, I’m still here. Every lift, every run, every recovery session completed. My sleep is improving. My food habits are messy but I’m working on that daily. The wall is here, the wall is painful, but I’m still moving forward.

    Small wins. Consistency over fireworks. Progress that hides under frustration until one day it doesn’t.

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

  • The Farthest I’ve Ever Been

    “If I take one more step, it’ll be the farthest away from home I’ve ever been.” — Samwise Gamgee, The Fellowship of the Ring

    That line has been rattling around in my head this week, because I’m in uncharted territory. Not geographically, but with consistency. I’ve never strung together this much gym and running work without burning out. Usually by week four or five I’ve hit a wall, either physically from under-recovery, or from cutting food too hard, or mentally by not trusting the process. But this time? I’m still here, still going, and still moving forward.

    Consistency = Uncharted Territory

    Old me would hammer workouts, under-eat, then flame out. This version of me is pacing things: lifting three times a week, hitting every Runna workout, logging supportive cardio with the dogs or on the walking pad, and actually recovering and “trying” to eat the way my body needs. It feels strange, but in a good way. I’m no longer waiting for the crash, I’m watching the habits start to stick.

    The Wins Beyond the Scale

    The scale has been bouncing within a two-pound window. Old me would be losing my mind over that. But here’s the truth: It is still driving me a bit bonkers, but I also realize that my waist is continuing to trend down from Phase 1, my lifts are climbing, and my runs are getting longer, and somewhat easier. I’m fitter now than when I started, even if the number on the scale doesn’t scream it yet.

    Runna & Recovery = The Secret Sauce

    Letting Runna handle my progression has been a game-changer. Intervals and long runs bump up gradually, keeping my calves from revolting like they did when I tried to push too far, too fast. On top of that, I’m eating enough to recover. It feels weird not to be starving and sore all the time, but that’s exactly why I’m still here in Week 3 of Phase 2 instead of sidelined.

    Looking Ahead

    This isn’t about arriving anywhere, it’s about seeing how far this road really goes. Like Sam, I’ve stepped beyond the point I’ve ever been before. The question now is: how much farther can I go? The answer is coming one rep, one run, and one week at a time.

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

  • Mid-Week Check-In: Beating the All-Nighter Hangover

    Last Friday night’s DR fiasco could’ve wrecked my whole week — the kind of all-nighter that used to leave me foggy, cranky, and sore for days.

    This time? Different story. I gave Saturday to damage control (low movement, enough food to function, plenty of water), then made Sunday all about recovery.

    I slept great Saturday night, and spent Sunday relaxing, took a nap, and just enjoyed not getting any emergency calls from work.

    It’s proof that recovery isn’t magic — it’s a skill you can practice. Nail the basics (sleep, hydration, protein, and not pretending you’re still 19), and even a rough night doesn’t have to derail your training week.

    Monday

    Solid start to the week. A little tired, but my run felt good. Since I had missed Saturdays run due to the all-nighter, I did a run instead of leg day. After my run, Bane and Ivy enjoyed their walk. I seem to have come through the all-nighter with minimal fallout — a huge change compared to the last couple of times it took almost a week to feel normal again.

    Tuesday

    Woke up early thanks to an itchy Bane, but resisted the urge to stack another run so soon in half-marathon prep. Played the long game instead of chasing short-term mileage. The goal was to make sure the last traces of the all-nighter were well and truly gone — mission accomplished.

    Wednesday

    Wrapped up my first pass through the GMB Resilience program. I’m going to go through it again with an emphasis on cleaner form — especially transitioning from knee planks to full planks as my wrists loosen up. At 49, the joints have opinions, and my wrists still need some coaxing before they’re happy with the full range of motion.

    All in all it’s been a good week so far. The all-nighter threw me a curve ball, but I managed to come through it quickly and with no lingering effects.

    Still lifting. Still losing. Still showing up. (Usually)