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May 6, 2017

Over the last couple years I’ve realized I’m someone who thrives on a bit of a routine. Not necessarily a tight and rigid schedule, but going to the gym, meditating every day, walking the dog, and eating according to my nutrition plan all help me function much better.

Enter my bum finger. I talked about it yesterday. It is remarkable how much that thing has thrown me off.

I mean, it’s hard to grip the bar hard enough to do bench press or deadlifts, so my powerlifting routine is basically out the window. It doesn’t really hurt much if I leave it alone, but those first few days it was bad enough that it kept me from sleeping well. That made it easy to sleep in, right through my normal meditation and dog-walking time. Cooking–and especially washing dishes–just means I’ll probably get the bandage wet and have to redo it. And if I’m not getting to the gym my diet isn’t tuned correctly anyway. So say hello to justifying eating out like all the time. Not to mention my sleep-deprived fatigue. And on and on.

And I have felt like crap. Been in a two-week haze. Luckily I haven’t drunk crazy amounts of whiskey or binged on ice cream or blown a bunch of money on drugs and hookers (at least no more than I budget for every week). I’ve gone on legit, destructive benders in the past, so it’s a minor achievement that this one is relatively minor. But it feels like a bender all the same. I hate it.

The doctor said I’m okay to lift weights if I’m careful not to bang my finger. I tried gripping the handle of my kettlebell, though, and my finger hurts quite a bit if I squeeze as tightly as necessary for powerlifting. At the same time, apparently I can expect my finger to be tender until the nail grows back, which could be a couple months or more. Waiting that long to get back to the gym–the cornerstone of my daily and weekly routine–isn’t an option.

So, I’ve reached back quite a few years and pulled out a good old fashioned bodybuilding routine, where grip matters but it isn’t as crucial that I crush the bar with all the strength my forearms can muster. I’ll use my weakened condition as an opportunity to switch things way up but still, I hope, be able to lift weights as an anchor to my life and to end this damn bender.

I’ll admit, I’m even smiling a bit at the thought of, among other things, 20-rep breathing squats, multiple biceps exercises (it’s not bodybuilding if you don’t give extra attention to your guns, after all!), and even calf raises–why the hell not. Which will lead to the necessity of being on my nutrition game, and the drive to meditate and walk the dog, and ideally to generally feeling like I have my shit together.

Wish me luck. I’m excited to show some fucking adaptability and #getafterit this coming week.

From → Navel Gazing

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