This Past Week

The only workout I got in was Shoulders and Biceps on Monday.

We are now heading into Friday.  (It’s Thursday 4:05am.)  And though I know I can’t have good weeks every single time, despite how much I desire.  I have to learn when it’s in my best interest to take a time-out and relax.  I do not wish to go beating myself up over and over and over again over a few missed workouts.  Life happens and this is where obtaining some sort of balance is required.

I can stand still nowadays and think back to all those fond and strenuous memories where I’ve pushed myself during times I shouldn’t have.  It’s either brought me bittersweet irritation from overtraining, a terrible sickness like a sinus infection or minor/major setbacks that would only fuck me to not progressing as smoothly as I would have liked.  However in this case, my monthly red friend comes to pay a visit.

Ms. Red Riding Hood!

There have been many months where I’ve push through my most vigorous workouts through my menstrual flow.  Mostly to prove to the inevitable negative self-talk wrong!  And of course, there are other reasons as follows:  To break through another barrier of my life, never allow my body to be too comfortable and gaining mental toughness through a better track record of performing my training sessions despite what I’m undergoing.

And this was one of those weeks as I had two great episodes of cramps from my monstrous period.  This is the time where my head feels heavy with mood, sludgy and muddy on my shoulders.  It feels like depression, something ancient as Reptilians.  This is the time where each of my breasts feel like 20lbs, where I feel like I’m openly carrying a full cart of luggage right in front of me for the money-celebrity folks.  This is the time where I bloat fatter than a frog, fatter than the hogs who are submitted to eating grains and grains til their eyes are about to pop.

The last thing I want to do is move.  The last thing I want to do is be conscious.  The last thing I want to do is eat.  The last thing I want to do is have fun.  The last thing I want to do is train.

Sometimes it’s just one of those weeks out of the month, out of the year.  And I’m not going to fight this every single month.  I’ve acknowledge this and I’m doing my best to control, forgive and handle the situation correctly.  Sometimes the best bet for me is to surrender.  I’ll look at the brighter side of things like extra recovery time, extra freshness my muscles will undertake when it’s time to get back in the gym and hit it all over again like a maniac.

And with this, I tell myself it’s okay.
Everything’s going to be okay.


Why Can’t I Have Less Standards?

Why couldn’t I just be thrilled looking like a line-backer like most of the females in my family?  Why couldn’t I just be proud, surely, that I have thick arms from the genetics of the Latin pool?  Why couldn’t I just leave my Training passion behind me and say “I’m fine with not being the locomotive determine strong woman I am clearly out to be?”  Why do I have to have standards?  Why can’t I just be okay with being the staggering 210lbs I was long ago?  Why?

There are times when I’m down and out about the way I look.  I know I’m not grotesque, but I have these ideals I desire to obtain.  There are far too many trials and errors that knocked me down throughout the years and each day these trials and errors shave a centimeter of my will and grace.   I heard someone the other day say:  “Is there a such thing as a bodybuilder being humble?”  All I could think of was – why should they be humble? – when after years of achieving perfection YOU are the person who’s putting all the work and effort day in and day out in the gym looking to display the ideal to yourself?

I’m aware around the time of my menstrual cycle I tend to have sour thoughts and bittersweet feelings.  It’s almost as if being friendly and gentle to myself is some ridiculous crime I should never ever allow otherwise I would fail at my project, my mission.   So I abuse myself physically by training harder than the average person in and out the gym.  And with all this said, the question still reminds at the top, where the title begins:  Why Can’t I Have Less Standards?