5/3/1

After I finish NROL, I'm planning on continuing with some variation of 5/3/1 power lifting routine. Until then, 5/3/1 is going to be my cop-out list post when I have nothing to say and have done absolutely no cooking for the past two weeks. I had bad Vietnamese take-out for lunch and dinner yesterday. With white rice. It seemed like a good idea for short amount of time I took to wolf it down. Much less so when I tried to work out that night.


I will be better this weekend. Except for the beer tasting tomorrow. Oh yeah, and tacos on Saturday. 

Gym Rituals

Happy Fitness Friday, from the confines of my office where I have spent the vast majority of the past 12 hours sitting on my behind. I did make it to the gym between starting my experiment at 6:00 AM and taking a sample at 8:30, so that should cancel out some of the sitting, amirite? I’m pretty sure all of this sitting is still going to kill me one day (that is if the arsenic doesn’t get to me first).

All work and no play makes Chelsea something something

It’s definitely been one of those weeks at school. For the past few days, I’ve been running experiments for 15+ hours in the lab and crawling into bed immediately upon returning home, only to roll out a few short hours later and head into the lab to start again. As a result, I’ve been falling prey to overeating and eating the wrong things; the free cookies at coffee break, several cups of trail mix over the course of a few hours while sitting in my office in an exhausted stupor. And over the past few days I’ve managed to squeeze in just one meager workout, which I’m pretty sure I sleep-walked (is that the right tense? Or is it slept-walked?) through because I can’t seem to remember a thing.

On finding my workout groove

I dub this Friday, and every Friday hereafter, to be Fitness Friday, on which I prattle on about my very limited exercise experience, complain about people hogging the squat rack, and post my PRs so we can all laugh about how pitiably weak I am (but I'm getting stronger I swear!).

One year ago last January, I joined my very first grown-up gym. Yes, I was one of the New Year’s resolution crowd. You know the ones; they flood the gym, monopolizing the equipment for about a month before disappearing all at once like a flock of migratory birds. And that was me, right up to and including the inevitable backslide. I picked the gym because it was along the metro line and close to grocery store, and went three times a week out of convenience and an illogical sense of obligation to one trainer, to whom I’d assured my commitment to getting into shape.