My self-imposed move away from pre-workout products and caffeine in general has taught me a lot about self-reliance. Obviously, there are physiological implications of stepping away from things that are a continual stress on the adrenal system, especially something that one consumes, rather than energy that is stress-induced.
In terms of sleep, it has forced me to fix my circadian rhythm. I don't want to be up at 3 in the morning, and waste an entire morning in bed. I don't want to drag my way through the "day," in the afternoon, feeling like garbage. I don't want to reason myself to justify wasting money on powders and pills. The shock of how fatigued I feel has come and gone, and I am left with a bad taste in my mouth.
I've heard of it, but never reached a point where if I didn't have any powder in that tub, I couldn't will myself to go train. If I didn't have my ritual fruit punch chemical xyz, it was already predetermined by the Gym Gods that I would have a bad day. But it felt close.
Screw that.
I needed to rediscover the drive that made me want it in the first place. Years ago, when I deployed, and I was too damn ashamed to ask anyone to teach me how to lift. When I picked up my fresh copy of Starting Strength from the care-package, and threw out all the trashy fitness magazine shit and all the mentalities that came with them. One thing snuck in. One catalyst crept its way into my training that stayed with me for the first 5 years of training with weights.
There is a reason why supplements are called f**king supplements. I can't figure why some folks seem to need a drink before, a drink during, and then another drink after their workouts. But then I look at myself and though I don't use intra or post workout drinks, I'm basically doing the same thing. I've seen the jokes on Facebook and Instagram too. The lament of scraping the bottom of your favorite tub and realizing you don't have any powder. Or opening your fridge and hanging your head in disappointment when you notice you're out of Monster or Red Bull.
So tonite was special, but in a different way. I was a little tired. Hell, my sleep is still adjusting itself and I decided screw it all I'm going to train anyway.
Two PRs. A squat of 275 for 5. A 185 bench for 5. Impressive? Nah, but then again why do I care whom I'm impressing? They're PRs. I'm not racing against time. This is my life. This is an eternal journey: there is no rush. If I PR'd my squat by 5 every two weeks, that's 130lb increase in a year. How many people squat 405 for reps? 500? 600? How many commit themselves to train that consistently for that long? For every person that can outlift me, there is another that is stronger than he. But you know what..
Who cares?
This year I have been able to define what training means to me. What a weight off my shoulders, to come to a place in my mind and heart that the only person I needed to beat, needed to impress, needed to outlift - was me. And now I have taken it a step further. I've shaken off the shackles of something advertised to bring the best out of me, and took up the challenge of bringing it out my-damn-self. What I don't need is a petty pump or veins slightly fatter on my forearm, what I need is an opportunity to push my body and mind to their limits and see what I'm really made of. And when I get there, to keep moving ahead.
A mile, a foot, or an inch. A step forward is still a step forward.
I didn't need the rocket fuel crap. Never did. All the motivation to train my ass off was always there from the beginning. It's time I sought it out to use it again.
It's time I dug deep.
Til next time, keep grinding.
