So I lifted Monday, kind of. My left pec/biceps tendon is killing me. In texting back and forth with the infamous Wendler, he reminded me training is not a good idea if your body is not ready. For that reason, shortly after I started the session, I stopped lifting. When 185 on an incline feels heavy and painful for me, something is wrong. Unfortunately for me, in the past I thought pushing through such things made me more hardcore. Slowly but surely, I'm learning
The rest of the week I went through motions of conditioning and recovery, but I was not feeling very recovered. I'd tell you what I did, but none of you really seem to care about that stuff.
Yesterday, however, I took a different approach. Due to my various maladies, I have been prescribed a number of different anti-inlfammatories and muscle relaxers. Now, I'm one of those people who does not like to take medicine. I don't know why. My wife literally puts pills in my mouth when I choose not to take them. I should have her wrap them in cheese like she does for the dog. Note to self, don't open for pills without the guise of cheese.
Anyway, I made myself a cocktail of pills (again, prescribed) and went into the basement for a stretch. I was down there a good hour. I then came upstairs and took a nap on the couch. Jess gently caressed my hand to wake me for dinner. After dinner, I returned to the couch. I actually woke up a few hours later for my next big feeding (I don't really eat breakfast or lunch, but I eat two huge meals at night). Believe it or not, that caused another nap. The next thing I remember is Jessica softly waking me again, this time for bed.
I put on my cpap mask and slept like the dead. I usually wake up to relieve myself during my slumber, but that didn't even happen. Just glad I didn't wet the bed. Man, I felt great this morning. I do often forget that sleep is probably the best form of recovery. I really need to remember that for the upcoming month rolling into the meet.