I’m referring to the days of the week, obviously. Jeff and I began our Sunday taking Luke for a long walk around the neighborhood and I then made homemade waffles. Delicious.
Weighted & strict L-sit C2B and chin above bar pull-ups
Sixty pounds C2B and 62.5 pounds chin above bar, both PRs. Jeff helped me put on the weight vest without hurting myself.
8 RFT in unbroken rounds of reps (other than sprints)
10 Russian KBS, 53#
5 strict HSPU (against fence)
5/arm alternating arm DB clusters, 35#
Uphill sled pull 10m @ 90#
Sprint 40m (10 with sled, albeit downhill and easy)
This was both exhausting and wonderful.
I spent most of the afternoon baking TWO lemon-buttermilk pound cakes, one each for my sisters, and Angry Bastard (You’re Not Worthy) pub cookies, my first original recipe.
And I only ate one cookie. Willpower, bitches.
I began Monday by taking Luke for 3.5-mile walk and then working on skills. I’d like to eventually complete a 1-armed pull-up, so I’ve been studying progressions. Today I held a 1-arm dead-hang for 15 seconds on each arm, a hang L-sit for 15 seconds, and 5/arm assisted arm-arm negatives. ‘Twas good.
5 unbroken back squats, beginning at 95#, increasing weight 5# each round, and working up to what felt like very heavy but not final set; 25 UNBROKEN double unders after each round
Again, something I would never program. Even though it wasn’t for time, it took about 45 minutes to complete. I ended @ 200# (my 5RM PR is 215, so I’m pleased) and completed 22 rounds. That’s 110 back squats and 550 double unders. I was a sweaty mess, and given that I haven’t worn any deodorant or antiperspirant for weeks, a smelly mess as well.
I honestly can’t recall the first time I heard the word fuck or, for that matter, who I heard say the word. I certainly didn’t know what the word meant or even that it was a “bad” word. One afternoon when I was 5 or 6, I was sitting in the TV room by myself watching cartoons and saying the word ad nauseum. I remember distinctly saying “Fuck Scooby Doo.” My mother overheard and asked, “What did you just say?” “Fuck Scooby Doo,” I replied. I then noticed that she was becoming noticeably angry and upset. “Where did you hear that word?!” she exclaimed. “Michael,” I said. Again, I don’t know if I had actually heard my oldest brother say the word or not. I do know that he was punished nonetheless. And I’m okay with that.