Big is Beautiful or "RP Can Go Fuck Itself"

I am apparently unable to cut weight. 4 weeks ago I was 76.5kg and set out on Cut 3 of my RP template. It was soul sucking. I ate salad. Salad. I hate salad. But I did it. For 3 weeks I did it.

And I lost 1kg.  ONE KILOGRAM.

Ok. It's okay, I thought to myself. I feel leaner, surely I must have put on a shitload of muscle over the last 2 months and that's why I'm having trouble cutting. My arms are bigger, my quads are bigger, my backside is bigger. That's what's going on here. For fuck's sake I swear I could almost see abs.

So I scheduled an appointment for a BIA to confirm this. I figured if my body fat percentage is down and I've put on muscle then I'll just hang at 75kg and forget about cutting.

What I found out is that I'm just fat. Fatter than I was before I started cutting. 

DID YOU HEAR THAT RP? MY BODY FAT PERCENTAGE WENT UP ON CUT THREE. Please feel free to go fuck yourself. 

This means two things. 

1. I definitely can cut to 72kg because I am definitely fat enough.

2. I definitely ate my weight in Christmas cookies this weekend because I am amazing at self-sabotage.

I'm fairly certain that the 1kg I lost is back and brought 2 or 3 of it's friends to the party. Because that's how I roll. 3 weeks to lose 2.2#, 4 days to gain 8. Nobody gets fat as well as me. Nobody. 

Ridiculously easy to see. From space.

Fuck. Now I have to make a decision. Do I get back on that horse and try to whittle myself down to 72kg over the next 4ish weeks with a super low carb, high protein, modified fluid manipulation, joyless soul-sucking cut? Or do I just try to get myself back together so I don't actually become 84kg (the ceiling for the next weight class). 

Sigh.

A healthy non-cookie-related snack.

Goddammit. Nothing but meat, protein powder, kale, and fucking sorrow for the next 4ish weeks.

And I'll probably Be 72.1kg on the scale. Or 84.1, because dieting makes me fat.

HAVE I MENTIONED RP CAN GO FUCK ITSELF?

And I was feeling so positive about it, all strong and stuff. I hit a 200# back squat on Thursday after finding out that I'm fat. So that was cool.

I'm told strong is sexy. 

Ugh. Now I have to do cardio. I have to eat chicken breasts and kale and drink protein shakes and do cardio.

So I can be like this bitch. 

I don't think she has the right size shorts on. 

She doesn't have enough legs and ass for these shorts.

I guess January is for suffering, right? I'm just starting a little ahead of schedule. January is cold and bleak. I can eat cold and bleak and do cold, bleak cardio for a month or so. Probably.

Last week was strange. Aside from hitting my 200# squat it was sort of garbage. Not only did I find out that I'm fat, I had my neck and back adjusted last Monday. I've only ever seen one chiropractor in my life (Historically I've been wary of chiropractors, though I will say my previous one was very helpful) but he didn't crack my back. Sadly, he moved away. I've been lifting heavy lately and thought maybe I should line someone else up in case my back goes south again (I have scoliosis, my back goes out periodically). So I had a consultation with someone new. The first time for back cracking? Also the last time. I'll probably go back to side-eyeing chiropractic. Everything was fine for a few hours, and then it all went to hell in a hand basket.

It started with my balance going to shit. I couldn't stay in a crescent lunge at yoga that night. I couldn't hold my arms up above my head for more than a few seconds. About 10 minutes into class it was like showers of sparks were flowing down my spine and my right arm. The spark shower continued even when I stopped moving, all the way home in the car. That night I developed deep shooting pains from my low back down my glutes and hamstrings. 

Lotta shit goes on up and down the spine.

I spent all week sleeping for shit and every lifting session came with some new neuralgia. I couldn't deadlift because it hurt too much. Sparks, burning, numbness, headache...and after one heavy session my hand shook off and on for about 30 minutes. Heat helped some while the heat was applied, ice made it worse, and when my husband tried to work on the section of my back that was most locked up? I cried. I don't do that. Cry. It's not my thing. 

Finally, I was able to sweet talk my way into a prescription for cyclobenzaprine. I say sweet talk, because providers never want to write pain meds for me. I don't know if it's because I ask for drugs by name (I'm a pharmacist, yo, what am I supposed to do...pretend I don't know what shit is for?) or because my "excruciating pain" face looks pretty much like my regular face. Sorta pissed off. Maybe I look like a seeker. A shitty one, because I never score. 

Just a few Flexeril, bro, that's all mama needs.

Still, I got what I needed and after a few days of solid, muscle-relaxer-induced sleep I feel almost normal. Just a little bit of a twanging sensation across my right shoulder remains, but I was able to run without inducing pain or sparks so that's positive. Later today I'll put a barbell on my back and see what happens. I'm hopeful. 

I need to be in tip-top shape so I can torture myself really, really effectively with chicken, kale, and cardio. 

If I get fatter doing cardio, lifting, and eating nothing but meat and veggies do you think I could get written up in a medical journal? Because that has to be impossible, right?

We're gonna find out. 

Oh, also I did my roots...toning went better this time but it did get a teeny bit purple. Also I might have melted some of my hair off. Just a little bit, though.

Closer to white blonde than before. 

Also, my nose is really long. Wow.

Tossing around the idea of dyeing it silver, but I can't decide if it'd look edgy or if I'd just look old. 

Would it look like this?

Or more like this?

I mean, I fully expect to look like Bea Arthur in about 25 years. About the same height, similar build, similar face, same general sense of dude-ness. It's cool. I'd probably skip the shoulder pads, but it was the 80s, no judgement on my girl Bea. It could be worse...I'm just not looking to go there right this second. 

It's veggie time. Except not potatoes or carrots because too many carbs. I can't wait to go back to dieting. I love dieting. 

Kill me. 

Abs are Made in the Kitchen or "Nobody Wants to See Your Cellulite in a Singlet"

I haven't written for a while. Lots of stuff has happened since September. Mostly the things happened in October.

I did a CF competition. 

Team Active Bitch Face. We placed third in the old lady division.

I did a Strongman.

I'm so fucking pretty I can hardly stand it.

I placed mega-last so it's a good thing, too.

I ran the Marine Corps Marathon.

It was miserable. Hardest thing I've ever done.

Eyelashes on point, though.

And after all that...I did something stupid.  I registered for a Powerlifting meet. A Powerlifting meet. Do you know what that means? I have to put on a motherfucking singlet in front of live action people.

One of these.  In public.

I ordered an XL, because I'm a big potato

and in Virus land every woman 69kg and over is XL

Except when they're a Small.

Fucking Virus.

Only I don't even get to wear that unattractive thing, as it's not IPF approved. For the record, the Virus XL didn't fit. It was advertised as compressive and it wasn't. I sent it back. SO MUCH FOR YOUR SIZE CHART, VIRUS. KISS MY 76.5KG ASS. 

Instead I get to wear an even MORE unattractive thing. This thing. But in black. Size Large because "Unisex". 

Ha. Unisex. Even this phantom model has a bulge.

I don't have a bulge. I'm a manly looking woman,

but even I'm not quite THAT manly.

Unisex clothes can go fuck themselves. Ha. See what I did there. Actually, I suppose that would be hermaphroditic clothes. Wait, no...parthenogenetic clothes? I'm starting to forget my nomenclature. It's hell to get old.  It's also hell to be a big woman. Am I a small man? A medium man? A large man? Depends what brand we're talking about. Trying to get something that fits my body AND my condor arms? HA. HAHAHAHAHAHA. A unisex article of clothing that fits my wide ass hips and also my narrower ribcage? HA. I say HA. I am not at all peevish about this. 

I've been known to wear some objectionable shit in my basement gym, but there are no real live people there. My squat rack doesn't care if I wear a sports bra and booty shorts with my gut hanging out over the waistband. My squat rack doesn't judge me. My squat rack loves me and wants me to be happy. 

This is my squat rack. It needs a name. I think it's a girl, but I'm not sure.

Isn't it beautiful?

Oh! Oh! and it has safeties for benching, too!

Here I am attempting to arch. It's a work in progress.

We did invest in a sturdier, longer bench. The bench in this photo is now just for sitting on while I rest or change shoes. ALL THE GYM STUFF, Y'ALL.

As an aside? Whenever this song comes on while I'm squatting? I sing the lyric 

as "The rack I squat in? I bought it."

Back to the meet. There's another catch beyond the singlet. I registered as a 72kg (158#) lifter. Let's just say I don't weigh 72kg right now. My last known weight was 76.5kg (168.3#). I've hopped on the scale once or twice since my last "official" weight and in spite of a pretty drastic cut, my numbers have been all over the place. I should've started cutting in earnest months ago.

I make a lot of poor choices.

Cutting weight sucks balls. It is two months of uninspiring food, and if you know me, you know I like mealtime to be an event. Eating isn't an event these days, it's an obligation. I started out with terrible cravings, and now that has tapered off to a general dissatisfaction with everything I put in my mouth. I don't even want to eat anymore. One might think "Hey, starvation is probably great for cutting!" except I need to be light AND strong. Not eating doesn't make muscle. 

I have until 1/20 to make weight. I can't water cut because it's a 2 hour weigh in and dehydration is not my friend from a performance standpoint. So I actually have to lose 4.5kg. TEN POUNDS. In reality I should probably lose more like 12 pounds because I'm pretty sure we don't weigh in butt naked, and since weigh in is at noon it'll be more like curb weight vs. dry weight. 

Goddammit. If I'm not at 74kg when I weigh next I may just scrap the whole thing and tell the lady in charge of the meet that I need to move up to the 84kg class.

There goes my Wilks score.

On a positive note, I've been enjoying all the barbell work. I really have. So far I've maxed out my bench, dead, AND squat at more than I thought possible for me and it seems there's more in the tank. I can rep out squats at much heavier weights than at any time in the past. I don't even mind doing them, and I used to hate them. I've invested in knee sleeves and an Inzer lever belt that is a truly beautiful and alarming piece of equipment. I have a short torso. The distance between the bottom of my ribs and the top of my iliac crest is not a lot of real estate. In the past I've worn tapered belts to avoid compressing the bottom of my rib cage. The new Inzer belt isn't tapered.

It's, um, hefty. Every time I snap it shut I'm pretty sure

I'm going to pinch my belly flubber in it.

I love the way it feels when I'm in the act of lifting, but closing it hurts a little. I'm fairly certain there're going to be bruises along the base of my ribs. Sad thing is I think it should be a notch tighter...but my rib cage is in the way. Today I tried to push it down a bit because it was hurting my ribs and I couldn't because skeletal structure, y'all. 

Oh hey, it's also the holiday season. Have I mentioned cutting blows? Yeah, it blows more during the food-a-palooza that is this time of year. One thing that's on my side is the fact that I'm not allowed to have holidays at all, ever, so at least I'm not tempted by lovely meals with my family.

Health care careers FTW.

I'm on social media hiatus at the moment. I started by deactivating my Facebook and Instagram accounts for a week and removing the apps from my phone. The accounts are up again (chances are you're reading this linked from my FB page, since nobody actually goes to my blog website), but the apps aren't on my phone and they won't be until after the first of the year at least. Frankly, I can't handle all the holiday posts. Your family is lovely. Really, they are. But I can't deal with the constant stream of  smiling faces and holiday jollies.  For the fourth year in a row, I'm working the winter holidays, and because schedules hate us, so is my husband. My kids weren't home on Thanksgiving, and they won't be home on Christmas. They'll be with people who love them, but not with us. I'll spend close to 14 hours in the hospital on Christmas Day, working my own shift and covering for a co-worker. Hell, even the day we selected for our family gift exchange was fucked around by an order-in. I'm reachable, I'm not hiding in a hole or anything, but I'm full on Bah Humbuging it at the moment, so be warned.

A party you say? Oh, sorry, I work that day.

Yup. That day, too. Allllllll those days around the holiday.

That's my shift. 

I'll be keeping the obsidian shards of my cold, bitter heart out of your holiday celebrations. You're welcome. And for those who would say "You're atheist AF, why do you give a shit about Christmas at all?" I give you this (it's actually pretty interesting, debauchery for all!). 

This Party is About Jesus now, m'kay?

I like debauchery and excess in all it's forms. Just keeping Yule sacred.

Looking through the archive of this blog was interesting today. Last year I had some goals. I actually hit most of them. There are three still outstanding, but there are still over 2 weeks left in the year and I have max days coming.

1. 100# snatch (current max 95#)

2. 200# squat (current max 180# set today with a max out this Friday and next Friday)

3. 250# dead (current max 235# and I got 255 off the floor two weeks ago)

My main goal for 2017 was to triumph over my flat-ass genes (or at least keep that shit from sliding down the backs of my legs). I don't know if I've reached the mountain top, but I'm on the way to the summit. I no longer fit under a barbell, and there's definitely more going on back there now than there was before.

And these aren't even flattering pants.

I guess my new goal for the New Year needs to be set, right? Well, I'll start with something that'll get me a t-shirt. A 600# total to earn my entry into the Ghrino Club. Current total: 535. Holy shit that sounds pathetic...but my bench has improved dramatically of late, squatting feels like a completely different ballgame now, and if I can find a decent pair of pee panties my deadlift is going up to 275# easy (I don't like to wet myself in front of strangers and that causes me to bail out of lifts when I feel the floodgates opening...so now you know that about me). That 535 is 30# higher than 6 weeks ago. Six weeks for a 30# overall improvement. That's pretty good, right? 600# is in the bag for 2018, bruised ribs and all.

So. I'm going to grind for the next 2 weeks, skip over Christmas, and head straight into the New Year.

New Year, same old me...

All 76.5kg of me. 

#sorrynotsorry

I Hate Food or "Macro Counting Makes Me Stabby"

Hi. Remember me? I used to write a blog about being a fat old lady. Well, I'm still a fat old lady, so here's another blog.

Back in June I bulked for a Strongman competition. I was all cocksure, like "Yeah, I'm fluffy now, but it's mostly water from this here creatine and I'll totally lose it no problem once this is over."

You're so cute with your "water weight"!

So, I didn't lose it. Well, I sort of did, but really it was just dehydration, and when I rehydrated I was fat again. Fuck.

Now, I get a lot of exercise. Two-a-days are kind of my normal. And three-a-days. And sometimes four-a-days. It's not like I'm running 20 miles a day (there's a woman around here that does that-I used to see her almost every day at various times, always always running). I CrossFit, I squat either at home or at the gym, I run (with accompanying sled push/pull), I do yoga, and I take a powerlifting class a couple times a week that also includes Strongman stuff. I do these things in various combinations every day. How many depends on the day of the week and my work schedule, but almost always at least two of them. 

This is me being dead after the WOD and then failing the fuck 

out of a 95# snatch for a 100 years. Then I squatted.

Yup. Every day. What can I say? I work third shift and I have a lot of free time. Mostly because I'm a lousy wife and mother...and a miserable housekeeper, but you know free time. 

And yet I'm still chubby, so what gives? It's not like I'm secretly eating a whole pie for breakfast. I eat well! Pretty consistently! I SHOULD BE HOT AS HELL BUT I'M STILL A POTATO. I mean, like a muscle-y potato, but still a potato.

Muscley. Potato.

A year and a half ago I was 10 pounds lighter. I'd like to pretend that I put on 10# of muscle in that time frame, but that would be bullshit. My body fat percentage has been hovering around 23/24 and I was at 21ish 10 pounds ago. Yeah, I have put on some muscle, but I've also put on some flab and I don't like it.

No, my tits aren't bigger, I just bench press now.

I don't want thigh gap or any of that stupid shit. I'm fine with being big. It's being squishy I don't like. My ass is bigger and higher and that's awesome...but I'd prefer it be less squashy. Ditto on the legs. Muscley=good. Squashy=less good (I would prefer my thighs not actually flap when I run). I'd also like to reclaim my waistline. It's been getting away from me lately and that's not cool. I know this shit is only going to get harder in the 40+ of it all. Letting it slide any further isn't an option. Climbing out of that hole?  Yeah, it sucks. Trying to reclaim ground you've lost and reclaimed a dozen times before? Been there, hated that. I don't want to be there again.

Adding to the problem is marathon training. I always get fat when I marathon train. I tried a different tactic this time-a CrossFit based program that focused more on strength and speed than long slow distance. It's been an experience. I'm definitely faster (like a LOT faster...like a LOT a lot), and my weight gain to this point has been minimal...except for that whole "I never lost the stupid weight from bulking" thing. I've been keeping tabs on it, but it is getting away from me. I go see Nutrition Guy again tomorrow to check in, and I'm dreading it. Mostly because I'm not sure I can take the result. I had my food on lockdown the last 2 weeks with one food slip and a couple of beers over the weekend...and my weight spiked up to a number I haven't seen since June. 170#. 

ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY GODDAMN FUCKING POUNDS. 

Seeing that number on the scale was like being sucker punched. I don't ever want to see it again. Not unless it comes with a guaranteed 250# backsquat and a 300# deadlift. 

Obviously something needs to be adjusted. So I'm giving macro counting a try. I'm going to hate it. 

Food scale. Shudder.

I'm using Renaissance Periodization. Mostly because practically everyone I know has used it at some point and if they can do it, why not me? They can answer all my annoying questions! I'm good at math, which is a big plus since I had to perform 3 separate calculations to make my breakfast.

It was cold by the time I got to the end of it.

The thing that's going to fuck me up is the meal timing. The only thing that really changes is the carbs, but it makes it nearly impossible to box up meals in advance because I never really know when I'm going to work out. And third shift throws another wrench in the works.

Also? Protein shakes. Hork. 

Fruit snacks were my "quick carbs" today.

Whey protein started making me nauseated at the end of my bulk. I haven't had one since. I choked this one down on the way to the gym. It was pretty fucking horrible.

Siiiiiiigh.

RP has you taking 20-50g of "fast carbs" around/during a workout depending on what time you work out. I got these at Costco. Each bottle is 20g of carbs. Less math...except when more math. Fucking food math.

Oh, as a side note-know how to cheer up a basic bitch? Get her some new Lulu and send her to Costco.

This is my cheerful face.

After Costco I came home and made my lunch. Which had a different number of carbs than my breakfast. I broke out the scale and the measuring cups.  Here's what I came up with.

Honestly? It was awesome.

Dinner was less precise. Mostly because we meal prep for the family and I'm NOT making myself a separate dinner. If I won't cook a different meal for my kid, I won't do it for myself. We don't eat garbage, so I can't imagine that a dinner with slightly muddled macros is going to murder my progress. And if it does? FUCK THIS RIGHT IN THE FACE AND BRING ME A PIZZA.

Beef and bacon cottage pie. And extra beans. And bread for carbs.

I headed out to yoga after dinner. It's almost time for the annual October Yogapalooza, so I'm getting a jump on my bendy time. Jenstar claims anyone can do the splits with the right prep and some practice. She said she'd bet money. Tonight I had her put her money where her mouth is. I've never done the splits in my life, and it seems like a cool trick. We went over the position in class and I got some pointers. I am the most inflexible person alive. It'll either take me a year and I'll get it, or she owes me like $4. And a latte. Because I drive a hard bargain.

I am nothing if not tenacious. I'm also bigly good at dealmaking.

Hot yoga was...hot...tonight. I was running sweat, but feeling extra bendy. Tomorrow I have some sprint intervals to run, and I'm not sure what else I'll do. Remains to be seen. 

I still had two meals left to eat when I got home. A "meal meal" and a protein shake plus some fats. Yeah. The thought of drinking another protein shake kinda made me want to die, so I improvised. Two meals became one. Except no veggies because I ate enough goddamn veggies today and I don't feel like chawing down 2 cups of fucking broccoli at 9pm. I share a bed. That's just mean. 

Mixed the protein powder with Greek yogurt.

Did math to reduce the berries to compensate for the carbs in 

the yogurt. 

I ate so much today. This was the "light" training day set up. There's non-training day (LOLZ what is this "non-training" of which you speak?), light, moderate, and heavy. I have no idea what my usual level of activity translates into. It doesn't match any of the descriptions given by RP. So I'll stick with "light" since I don't really try very hard at anything. I am, after all, just a really tall sloth.

About how I looked at 16 weeks with my first.

Before I switched to a candy and soda based diet.

So that was my first day on RP. I could eat the taco bowl every day, no problem. The eggs/sweet potato for breakfast? Ugh...too much stuff. I'm going to have to go to toast or Kodiak cakes or egg white oats or something. I can't hack that mess every day. Dinner will be what dinner will be. When I go on third shift I'll use going to bed and waking up as the reset of my day vs. midnight which was my previous custom. It will likely be easier to get the 4th meal in when I'm awake overnight. I'm supposed to be using casein protein before bed, so I may have to invest in some of that. We'll see what happens.

Oh, and if I get fatter doing this I'll be posting the shittiest "RP transformation" you've ever seen on Instagram. Because I'll be fat, but also strong, and really really angry. 

HULK SMASH.

Now that I have eaten all the food on the planet, I'm going to bed. Can't wait to wake up and find out how fat I am, then do a bunch of math before I can eat.

Oh, and before anyone gets all "Blah blah you look great for being really old and crapping out a bunch of kids!"-no offense- but I don't give a rip what anybody thinks about the way I look. The only opinion that matters here is mine. I have to like what I see. I'm well aware that I see myself through a somewhat dysmorphic lens, but I'm not shooting for supermodel here. I'm shooting for "my pants don't leave a mark" and maybe "hey, she looks like she works out" or better "she looks like she knows how to throw a punch". 

I'll work my way out of the sneaky hate spiral in my own time.

Potato, Potato or "I'm Fat as Fuck, but I Can Pick Up a Truck"

It's been an interesting month.

I was convinced to do a Strongman (Strongwoman? Strongperson?) competition by a couple of my less-than-balanced friends. To be honest, it didn't take a lot of convincing. In general, I can be counted on to participate in feats of athletic stupidity. I wasn't always this way. In fact, for most of my life I could be counted on to avoid all athletic pursuits as though they were potentially poisonous.

At the beginning of May, I went to see Kirk the Nutrition Guy and told him "Blah, blah Strongman, blah blah muscle mass." and he said "Blah blah creatine, blah blah protein, blah blah supplements."

It was exactly like that. You can ask him.

Poor Kirk, seriously.

Soooo...I bought a bottle of creatine powder, a bag of pre-workout, and a canister of protein powder and set to work.

Here are the results.

You'll see them in a minute.

I went into this Strongman thing knowing I was going to be a #heavyweight. 

hashtag. heavyweight.

Initially, it was funny. I was feeling pretty trim, and the idea that I was a #heavyweight was amusing. Then I started taking the creatine and eating protein like it was my job. And I got bigger. And bigger. And motherfucking bigger.  Then I got on the scale like a goddamn moron, even though Kirk told me that I was not to weigh myself under any circumstances.

Why can't I do as I'm told?

It wasn't all fat pants and belly rolls. I maxed my clean and jerk by 10#, I maxed my DL from a deficit and I maxed my back squat by 10#. That's right, my back squat. The lift that has been my motherfucking nemesis for almost 2 years now. A ten pound PR and it felt easy.  I started going to Power Club and CF 920 twice a week to work on powerlifts and Strongman stuff. I started seriously working on my bench press instead of just fucking around with it. I tried a bunch of equipment that was foreign, but awesome, and it was really fun. 

Unfortunately, the log at the comp was 

an 8" diameter and not a 5.5" diameter. Oh well.

So basically, I've been a potato, but like a really strong potato. I also learned a few things about my body. First, I do not tolerate pre-workout. Like at all. I knew I couldn't deal with the stimulant based ones, because they make me feel like my heart is going to explode and/or I'm going to pass out mid-workout. Turns out I don't tolerate beta-alanine either. It makes me feel itchy or like my skin is on fire, and it never got better. People kept describing it to me as tingling. IT'S SO NOT TINGLING. Or maybe severe itching is what the rest of the population knows as tingling and what I experience as tingling is what everyone else experiences as severe itching?

My skin is on fire here.

Oh yeah, baby, thinking about you makes me itch to the point of insanity or alternately feel like all my skin mysteriously caught fire but not in like a sexy way but rather a DANGER! DANGER! way. 

That's hot.

The second thing I learned? I can't hack protein shakes more than once or twice a week. I was squatting heavy pretty much every day, and I was drinking a protein shake as part of my "blah blah protein, blah blah supplements" gig.  By the first week in June the protein was making me so ill I had to lie down after drinking it. I fucking hate nausea, and once I started experiencing it after drinking my protein shake I started feeling ill upon smelling the protein shake. Anticipatory nausea, y'all. It's a thing.

See this shit? Fuck this shit.

So yeah. I tried supplements and they made me feel strong but also itchy, burny, fat, and sick. Going forward? Hard pass on the supplements. I'll just eat food and call it good.  Still, you never know until you try. And now I know. And knowing is half the battle, GI Joe.

Now I'm a month out from starting these shenanigans, and the competition was last Saturday. I have to say, it was fun. Waaaaaaay more fun than a CrossFit competition. For one, each event was only 60 seconds long. Two, the ratio of women with abs to women without abs skewed heavily in my favor. There were only two sportsbra girls and they were in the lightweight division.

I got 2 Atlas stones up. That was cool. I think the 150# stone is not far off.

I couldn't press the iron log, but that's a technique thing I think. I did clean it, which was something I only figured out a couple of days before the comp.

I don't know if you know this, but I'm really pretty.

The sled drag was difficult in long grass. I'll be better prepared for that next time. I did have my cleats, so that was a bonus.

I know I look blank as fuck, but this was really hard. I made it 30ish feet.

The tire flip was fine. Because I was seeded last after the first event, I had to do the sled drag and tire flip by myself (there was an odd number of competitors). I could feel my heart racing before the tire flip started, mostly because I was wearing fucking short shorts and my ass was to the crowd. I took a few deep breaths and consciously slowed that shit down. At the end of the 75' I wasn't tired, which means I could've gone harder, but I finished the event so I was happy.

The proudest moment of the competition for me was the farmer carry. I don't have photos yet because they aren't posted from the event and I had my phone crammed into my bra instead of giving it to my friend. Anywho, the tire was supposedly 300# and we had to carry it 75' down and back. I was pretty sure I wasn't going to be able to get it off the ground. My max carry to that point was 270#, and the last time I attempted it I almost blacked out.  But you know what? Not only did I pick it up, I carried it something like 120'. Ultimately it was my grip that failed me. 

I finished tied for 7th of 9. It's cool.

So know I know what to work on, and I'm pretty certain I'll be doing another Strongman in the future. It's always good to try new things. I haven't pulled a truck yet...

Well, what about those results. Here they are: I gained 9 pounds (holy shit), 1.5# was muscle, 3# was fat, and the remaining 4.5# was water. Yaaaay creatine. So now my job is to shed the water and fat and retain as much of the muscle as possible. 

25% body fat again. Sigh. 

It's okay. It'll be okay. I'm a potato and it's okay. I won't be a potato forever.

Own it, Piggy.

Next up is hiking the West Highland Way. I had the foresight to purchase elastic waist hiking pants, so it should be fine. Once we're back I'll begin my training for the Marine Corps Marathon. I'll be doing things a little differently this time. Less junk miles and long slow distance, and more sprints and CrossFit. I have a weight vest, I have a sled. I'm ready to have a marathon season that doesn't involve getting weak and chubby while building mileage. Kirk's going to help me. 

That lucky bastard.