So. I'm 4 months and some change out from my next projected powerlifting meet. And I'm frustrated.

I'm dealing with a reoccurring injury. This is the second time I've had to deal with a hip flexor strain on my right hip/upper quad. For the past week or so I've been working around it. I can't back squat heavy, and I can't do heavy deadlifts(especially sumo stance). I've been able to front squat, leg press, and do accessory work(good mornings, RDLS, etc).

I am a very, very stubborn person. I am my father's daughter. After his recent surgery, he was trying to cheat at using the walker to get around(a necessity for the first day or two). It was damn near impossible to tell him to take it easy. All this to say: I know where I get it from.

It's been really bothering me for the past handful of days. I've been trying not to go "too" hard in my training. That's always the plan when I write out the workout and arrive. But once I get going...sigh. It's hard to hold me back. It's difficult to take it easy. And I'm dealing with the consequences of that now I suppose. There is more pain when I walk, and some pain when I try to only focus on posterior chain exercises. For at least the next week, I'm going to have to do very minimal with my lower body. I won't rest it entirely because I'll be honest: I can't. I'll stick with lighter weight and more accessories, and I'll hammer upper body and back harder until I heal. That's the deal I strike with myself. I have plenty of time before competition, so I want to play it smart. Heal now, when there is time, instead of dragging this nagging injury with me for the next few months. But rest entirely? That's tough. I keep telling myself: at least it isn't my back or my hands or my neck. At least it's something I can work around and intentionally avoid.

I've started tracking my macros much more closely. I'm using an app, and sticking with it, even though some days I loathe entering in all my meals. At least now the apps are advanced enough to accept bar code scans. It's also a nice little trick to prevent myself from eating out more than I need to. I'm getting in the groove now so that when 2019 starts it will be easier to stick to a regimen. I'm probably going to have to cut weight for this meet, which is new for me. I'll try, at least. Side note: I eat soooo many eggs.

brief word on setbacks

Last week I was gearing up for week three of my strength block. I had completed 4 solid weeks of hypertrophy training, one deload week, and two super promising weeks of strength. I've been feeling really productive in the gym--having a method to the madness is seeming to pay off as the goal posts continue to move. Everything was clicking/moving/working.

And then I acquired a little hell on earth called influenza B, aka The Flu.

I've been dealing with that for almost a solid week, and I am just now feeling well enough to type/look at words on the screen without getting dizzy. I've spent a lot of time sleeping, blowing my nose, throwing up, writhing around with joint and nerve pain. In the span of 4 days, I left the actual house for 1.5 hours, and that was to see a doctor. Illness is isolating(this is quite possibly the worst part to me).

Probably goes without saying, but I did zero exercising this past week. It wasn't even an option, so I didn't feel too bad about it. I went three days without a cup of coffee due to simply being too sick to have one--can't say I had the energy to be bummed about not lifting.

Weightlifting has taught me so much about progression, patience, and pushing myself. I'm madly in love with the journey, and having that love makes all the difference when it comes to getting results. I think this love also taught me a new approach with myself. To be a bit more gentle and understanding. Setbacks happen. The world hasn't ended. All of my hard work hasn't magically, tragically disappeared(this is a ridiculous thing to think but OH BOY does the thought rush over me at times). "Setbacks" are kind of part of a lifting program anyway(even though the term is a bit negative for the cause). Rest days are just as if not more important than working days. Deload weeks are necessary to reset the nervous system and give the body extra recovery. When you're on a roll with lifting, rest days and deload weeks can be frustrating--sometimes I feel tempted to skip them altogether. But there is a method here, and the method is important. On the working days work, and on the resting days rest.

This flu stung a little harder because I was sick all weekend during the Arnold, and I've been looking forward to attending. Just wasn't meant to be this year. Thank goodness for technology--I was able to follow a few live feeds and instagram updates from the comfort of my bed while wrestling a fever. There were moments when I felt pangs of envy, of wanting to be there and/or to be in the gym lifting. The best thing for me to do in those moments is to step away and take a minute, which is what I did. When I didn't feel so frustrated, I revisited the feed and rooted for some new world record lifts. It's okay to feel frustrated or even angry with a setback. But the frustration cannot become consuming--it doesn't serve a purpose.

Setbacks happen. Be it illness, life stuff, work, injury. It's never about what knocks you down, but how you choose to get back to it. You can stay down and mope, or you can get up and come back better and stronger. Attitude is everything with setbacks. Stay up, stay ready.

the beginning

Fall of 2014. It started with a seasonal job at a warehouse.12 hours of standing on concrete floors was turning my body into a screaming, pleading, seizing thing. I started doing yoga in the evenings, hoping that holding a stretch or two would make my body feel a little bit closer to normal. I remember putting myself in half-pigeon for the first time and bursting into tears. Hip openers, man. Who knew? The release was that good. It was exactly what I needed.

Yoga was my gateway drug into weightlifting. I have numerous friends that site yoga as their gateway to other things too--martial arts, running, lifting. I was really getting into it--when I moved to Egypt I had my yoga mat sticking out of my carry-on bag. I loved to practice in the flat with the balcony doors wide open during call to prayer. The more I practiced, the more I craved complex movement. A lot of the moves required upper body strength that I simply did not have. I wanted that crow pose to handstand, badly.

In Cairo, I joined a gym. At first I put a lot of miles on the treadmill. As a runner this made the most sense--foolishly I used to think cardio and running were interchangeable terms. I started familiarizing myself with the various machines, especially ones targeting the shoulders and chest. I bought a dumbbell at the local market and pressed it above my head regularly. I've always been spaghetti-like in upper body, so this was a big deal for me. I learned to do a proper push-up. I started to try different machines at the gym, and read up on things like supersets and programming.

My interest in yoga began to slowly fade. I wanted to get stronger. I was starting to like the way lifting heavy things felt. Running in shitty shoes on the treadmill gave me blisters under my toe nails(gross), so I stopped making that a priority. And, compared to lifting, it was boring. I started to explore other methods of cardio--incline intervals, rowing machine, stair stepper, HIIT(a favorite).

I truly fell in love with weightlifting in 2015. My recreational relationship with the gym/working out turned into a personal mission of sorts. I started reading, and applying the knowledge to my workouts. I wrote down reps and sets meticulously. I started school for personal training. I worked out every day. In Dubai, I ended up overtraining which was kind of scary. Everything felt wrong but I couldn't put a finger on it. I was depressed, I couldn't sleep. After fainting I went to the doctor. I took some time off, and almost immediately after/during my world kind of fell apart(marriage ended, moved back to the states). The end of 2015 was a bit brutal.

In 2016 I healed my busted heart at the gym. I left my notebook at home--I realized that the number of reps/weight/etc fixation had definitely contributed to my overtraining. I wanted to start over, train smarter, be easier with myself. I learned that rest days were just as important as working days(if not moreso). I probably drove everyone in my immediate vicinity crazy with all the workout talk. It was helping me put one foot in front of the other after having my life fall apart. This was my therapy, my safe place. When I did not know what to do with myself, I went to the gym. When I felt myself grow so angry that I could barely see straight, I went to the gym. I have no doubt that weightlifting helped me heal from all the bullshit, and it reminded me of my value as a person. Simply put: this shit saved my life.