Because I'm dumb,

That's why

Image by me.

Wedenesday 22 JAN 25 I went to bed with a bit of a fever. It broke about noon the next day, but I was wrecked so I spent Thursday, Friday, and Saturday slug-a-bed.

As an aside, Rita got me a sherpa-lined bathrobe from LL Bean for Christmas — in the proper Stewart Grey tartan — and I have to say: if you’re going to spend several frosty days in jammies, accept no substitute.

Anyhoo, I decided that I was well-enough to go back to work Sunday¹ and Monday. Those days weren’t catastrophic, so I figured why not get a light workout in on Tuesday? Get the blood to flowing, and clear some cobwebs out of the old think pudding, right?

This:

It’s my warm-up set.

… should not be scary. I weighed in at 180 pounds when I got to the gym — seems like a diet of soup and one Sonic burger a day for five days will take five pounds right off of you — Coach Carmen took one look at me coming through the door, and yanked 50 pounds off my work set.

Which is annoying as hell, because I should be deadlifting 275, but I suppose 225 is better than nothing:

What the video doesn’t show is how bad the tunnel vision was on those last two reps, or the first two hours at work that I spent praying that I wouldn’t fall off of the floor.

Ah, well. Didn’t kill me².

Onwards and upwards!

Ian

1. That noise you hear is Rita sighing in exasperation.

2. A dozen generations of McMurtrie women just patted Rita on the shoulder and said, “Yeah, they’re idiots, but they’re tough and usually pretty handy.”