Wednesday, March 29, 2017

Process of rebuilding

I’ve been relatively flu-free for three weeks now, hooray! Never underestimate the power of illness to afford you a little perspective and motivation. I’m aiming to use this unexpected hiccup in my training to reset myself so that I can train smarter and harder. To be honest, getting sick didn’t really give me a choice.

Getting back into lifting post-flu was a process. After a week of being ill, I went to the gym and tried my usual back exercise(with the intensity turned down a bit). After only 20 minutes, I developed a cold sweat and felt strangely winded. I was more shocked than frustrated—I didn’t expect to feel that genuinely awful after only 20 minutes. My body was not ready for it yet. She kicked and hollered in response to the stimulus, and I listened. I pulled on my sweats and went home, and didn’t look back.

I waited three more days before attempting another gym session. That next one was a glute day, and I was feeling anxious to get back in the squat rack and see how much power I had lost. I felt positive about it—I’ve been lifting very consistently for a long time now, so two weeks didn’t seem too extreme. Before the flu hit, I had just finished week 2 of a 4 week strength block. Part of me was hoping I could jump right back in and maybe be behind by only five pounds or so. I’ve been so excited with seeing true, actual process with the poundage I’m moving, so I went in that Friday with fingers crossed.

That glute day was brutal and humbling. I wasn’t anywhere near that second week of strength pre-flu. Reps of 135 felt like torture. I could only manage to do 3-4 reps at a time, and couldn’t get the bar heavier than 140. My stance felt off, my back was shaky, and after days of harsh coughing and congestion, it was tough to fully brace my core for each squat. I was worried about coughing mid-descent. This session lasted about 45 minutes.

I went home and stared at notes from my last strength block day. I allowed myself to feel bummed about it for all of five minutes. There’s no point in dragging out the woe-is-me. It was the flu. Not (thank goodness) a debilitating injury. Whatever I lost through illness, I could gain back and then some. Quickly the bummed out feeling bloomed into hopefulness.

Since then, I’ve been climbing my way back, slow and steady. I decided to scrap the rest of this strength block and reset with a hypertrophy block. Hypertrophy promotes growth and I want to grow a bit more before working my way up to potential new max lifts. This means low weight, high reps, high volume. Each week I aim to increase my overall volume in general, but mainly for the three major moves: bench, deadlift, and squat. I think switching back to hypertrophy training post-flu was a sneaky little mind trick for myself as well—I was feeling hung up on those numbers from the strength block, and mentally it felt important to redirect my effort in order to remain motivated.

Before the flu I could bench 95 easily, for multiple sets/reps. My first chest day back after illness was quite clumsy. I thought: 95? No problem. And I was wrong, to put it mildly. I did the first set of 2 okay—lots of push on the last rep but I got it. I went for a second set and during the last rep I knew I was in trouble as soon as I lowered the bar to my chest. I pushed a bit and it dropped back on me, thankfully not from very high. I had to call out to the guys benching next to me for a little help. Slightly embarrassing.

This is a good lesson for me to learn. There are so many lessons in weightlifting. Patience is an immense one. You have to be patient. Progression does not happen overnight. Sometimes the goal posts barely seem to be budging, but you’ve got to instill a bit of faith in the process. Patience is especially important when recovering—be it from illness, injury, a failed lift. When recovering it’s important to acknowledge your limitations, and respect them. Pushing too hard too soon will potentially result in a lengthier recovery. There’s no shame in a setback. It happens, and it isn’t the end of the earth. The plates are still there, waiting for me to pick em up and move them.

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