No amateur teins, only professional teins. in The Napkin.

  • Sept. 22, 2021, 7:45 a.m.
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  • Public

Feel like I have nobody to talk to*. So, here we are.

I’ve lifted 14 out of the last 16 days. Today’s workout was… 104 minutes. May remove one exercise. I’m trying to keep it consistent, and sustainable. It’s not just one session that gets you where you want to be. The body adapts and looks like how you life. I’m lifting over 90 minutes 5-6 days a week. So. The body should look like it.

Heh, never read the forums. I think too many kids are genetically gifted and just don’t realize it. I can’t touch a weight and explode. All I’ve noticed from experience is I like volume and frequency, but burn out around week 5 or 6. And rest does NOT make me stronger. That’s the tricky part. Resting a week causes my lifts to backslide about a week. But, if I accept that and backcycle, maybe I can work around it.

At least, that’s how it’s been. We’ll see what happens now in my advanced age.

But sheesh, I’ve only rested the past two Sundays. Broscience says I should be INJURED and I won’t get GAINZ. Nope and nope. Hips feel great with the increased frequency. And ALL my lifts are going up. All of them. Granted, this is week 4 of the current cycle, but still. Is there a bit of fatigue creeping in? Yes. But if you train while fatigued, it teaches the system to recover with incomplete recovery. That’s actually desirable. Progress is not a linear progression.

Mind you, I haven’t forgotten Starting Strength. Ran that fucker for five months. Leading with three sets of five squats wears on you mentally. But other than deadlifts, the heaviest I go is 5x8. Okay, okay, I’m doing bodyweight chins and dips on Upper C, but whatever.


*Whenever the question “Do you want to text daily with your partner” comes up on dating sites, I’m always hesitant on how I answer. Because I like daily contact. To the point of near-constant contact. It’s not a requirement. It’s not a “you MUST text me!” It’s not a “I’m worried”. It’s externalizing the interior monologue we all have. That’s what you get when you deal with me. I don’t entirely expect a reply. I just want to share with SOMEONE.

Like, I’m wearing an oversized shirt I got about twenty years ago, back when I weighed 135 lbs. Back when I subconsciously didn’t like how I looked. (Now I consciously don’t like my body.) The shirt looks nice on me. Important information? Not really. Worthy of a reply? Maybe not.

It’s tricky finding a correspondence partner, as no doubt there are little things we just aren’t in the mood to hear from others. But from the right person, I’d love to hear your idiosyncratic thought process of selecting today’s panties. As long as you understand I may not reply much if you tangent into season 7 of Supernatural. Hey, it goes both ways. Totally accept nobody cares about my exerbabble. Gosh, to date a gymrat, that would be neat-o extraordinary.

I have too active a mind for such a mundane life, ha ha. No wonder I’ve sought out depressants.


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