Rumors of my assimilations were exaggerated. in Whey and Sonic Screwdrivers.

I think I’m back to normal.

It’s clear now that I hit overtraining. It’s an overused term in lifting, and difficult to achieve. But. The signs/symptoms were there. It’s not something is shown much in the lifts themselves. Stalling itself isn’t it. There wasn’t really a regress, other than me lowering the weight in an effort to backcycle.

It’s the mental. I felt burnt out. I couldn’t relax. That’s all the excess cortisol. I had been running tight on sleep in a good way, so it was difficult to notice my sleep quality. Felt kind of proud I kept waking up without an alarm and hitting the gym.

But, there were two telltale signs. For me, anyway. Lack of dreams. And more pressing: No morning wood.

Make all the jokes you want, but it’s something us penised boys notice. We may not notice every morning erection. But waking up flaccid, consistently, is something I noticed. This was consistent with a suppressed libido. Still mentally into women, as always. But neither caring about wanking nor enjoying it as much.

Coming into this year, I had the rational that wanted to burn through any potential n00b gainz, or ren00b gainz from taking so many years off. Well, I did that, with great success. Earlier this month, thinking I’d ease up for NaNoWriMo, I pulled 365 lbs. I meant to just lower my volume for the rest of the month, but ended up just taking two weeks off.

I was sleeping a lot. Just lazing in bed, not wanting to get up. I chalked it up to depression. Which, well, I’ll never shy away from. Then it slowly started to pass. I recall saying to a coworker, “I know things will get better eventually. Sometimes you need to feel like shit before you can feel better. It’s like I need to suffer a little bit.”

Or something like that; I hope you get the sentiment.

I had an eye on the calendar, and hit the gym to prevent the two weeks from going any further. Pulled 325 for an easy double - nothing excessive. Hit some rows and inclines. Really, wanted to prove to myself I was mentally there, and to mitigate DOMS. Hit the next day with the fluff, and then started my Week 1 proper. So, I’m back to lifting 6 days a week. Okay, I’ve lifted the past 8 days straight. Tomorrow’s my rest day.

No, I don’t intend to burn out again. Borrowing the pattern from 5/3/1, I’ll lift 3 weeks on, one week off. Well, three and a half. Squat twice a week for three weeks, deadlift the fourth and take the rest of the week off. It was so awesome having that zing during my first squat session this week. Nothing groundbreaking, just 10x3 @ 205 lbs.

I have deadlift day marked on the calendar. : D

Work is going better. Hate to say it, but the mood in the store is better since one of my assistant managers got fired. B moved to mornings, and she took his spot, and I took her spot. C had this… attitude to her. This not-caring. She used “try-hard” as a negative term. At the same time, she was stressed out. She didn’t know how to talk to the crew at all.

Never talked to me at all.

With her gone, B is back at nights, so it’s me, B, and my gay manager. We get along pretty well, all things considered. Concurrently, workcrush’s autism & adhd means she’s always looking for things to do. On a spectrum, I’m more depressive, and she’s more manic. So. Its’ a game of redirection with her. She wants management. She wants to get shit done. She also has the prior experience.

My work ethic isn’t in question; it’s nice knowing there’s at least one person who can cover my ass.

And also, it’s nice having someone to talk to, ha ha. Dang, I’m far too modest.

Like.

I’m the type of person to just put my head down, do my job, and not talk to anyone. Which, no matter how much work there is, well. I’m left with my own thoughts. She’s just enough manic pixie to get me out of my head. I try not to take advantage of the fact that all I need to do is deadpan a few lyrics and she’ll suddenly have a song stuck in her head.

Oops.

She’s the type of too-open-for-her-own-good that will laugh and then whisper “I just peed myself a little bit.”

Dude, if you’ve ever worked retail, you know how absolutely NSFW conversation gets. I’m not even sure where to begin with how the term “crusty prolapse” has become a phrase. I… hesitate to bring up other things without going into some long-winded “wait, let me explain.”

How the fuck do people survive in spaces that take themselves too seriously?

While there are cultural differences south of the Mason-Dixon Line, it is absolutely fascinating how retail culture is pretty much the same no matter where you go.

But yeah, I’m feeling more comfortable at my job. I still sometimes tell myself “this is temporary”, but also. It pays the bills, and I’m good at at.

Oh, to circle back. I know my libido was down because I have the data. Whenever I wank, I jot it on the calendar. It’s seriously useful information. How can you know whether your libido is up or down if you don’t know your frequency/enjoyment?

Three out of the past six days, I’ve come home from the gym, been about to shower, and had a spontaneous session. Definite change of pace.

I’m squatting to increase my deadlift. With my recent pull at 365 lbs, if I add 5 lbs a month, I can hit 4 plates by August. I’ve deadlifted to increase my deadlift as much as I can. So. I just need to get my legs stronger.

So.

I’ve retrieved my testicles from the lost&found, and I’m going to work on my squat. As a contrast, my best squat is 235 lbs, down from 265 lbs. I figure if I can squat three plates (315 lbs), I stand a chance at pulling 405 lbs.

Sorry for the gap in writing. It’s easier following random stories than catch-ups, right? Oh, NaNoWriMo was obviously a wash. Next year!