rooks and minerals

I feel like every Olympics there’s at least one story a day about how some journalist dude feels like female athletes are too scary for him or something (unless it’s a close-up of a beach volleyball player’s ass in which case SPORTS ARE GREAT).

Also, I’m sorry, but any time a guy says how emasculated he feels I really just want to punch him in the dick. Why was this even published? Are we supposed to care?

So the cut’s really starting to get to me. I felt pretty good getting into the gym so I decided to try to go heavy, but even warming up felt really really wobbly and I ended up just doing a billion hang cleans and tall snatches.  Top sets were 43 for snatches and 55 for clean and jerk, followed by doubles of hang cleans (one from the knee, one from the hip, sometimes followed by a full clean) at 50kg. Nothing particularly impressive. 

Squats were pretty much the only thing that went well. I was exhausted even warming up and skipped some of my warm-up sets, going straight from 80kgx3 to 97kgx3, which, if I get it for five this Friday, puts me well on track to a 250lb/115kg squat by my birthday at the latest. It did take a ridiculous amount of grinding to get three triples at that weight, but I attribute that to FOOD. By the fourth set I just ended up dropping the fucking thing and called it a day. My back-off set was supposed to be 87kgx8 but that didn’t work out either, so I did two sets of four and finally wobbled out of the gym. 

Talked to an engineer dude at the gym who was working on some sort of apparatus that measures force and acceleration on lifts like squats and whatnot and feeds the data into your phone. Kind of cool. 

Anyway, more tunes. Life is boring otherwise: work work work, study study study, lift lift lift, hunger hunger hungnggnnggnngger.