Yesterday my brain was firing on all cylinders. My thoughts were jumping through associations that I had to stop several times and ask “how the hell did I get here?” I’ve lost the ability to think slowly, to connect thoughts together in any meaningful way that would let me organize them.
Then I went out to the garage to lift, because Sunday is a Squat and Bench day this year, I guess. Some sources said it was supposed to be in the 80s yesterday. My watch and phone connected to some system that reported 74 when I started, and the garage is very good at holding onto to heat in the summer (and shedding in the winter, for some strange reason), so I was very warm starting up.
I did all my warm-ups barely thinking about what I was doing. I just knew I was moving. It felt like the lifts were going fast and controlled. My first work set at 320 pounds felt easy. I moved like a machine, but I barely remembered my cues. My second set at 320 pounds was also easy, but on the third rep I realized I had misplaced the bar on my shoulder and it hurt a little bit. I wasn’t focused on what I was doing. My brain was off on a rant about something that I can’t even remember now. I had to really focus on my cues for the third work set, which went without a hitch.
It’s was a little easier to focus during the bench, because that’s the one lift that can kill you, and that’s always in the back of my head: This could go very, very wrong. Again. Plus my spotter came home and went through all the cues: Shoulders. Back. Butt. Knees. Feet. Having someone watch every rep helps keep me focused on task.
Usually I like the way my mind makes quick associations, sometimes skipping through three or four steps before landing on something I can quantify, so it appears to be completely random if I express those thoughts. I have wrestled with the frustration and fear of losing thoughts in these fugues. I used to feel the need to document everything, to mine my own head for gold. It’s not possible to be at the keyboard all the time. It’s impolite to take notes during every conversation. So I have to rely on the belief that the good thoughts will come back, and the crappy ones won’t.
I know this isn’t true. They all come back. Sometimes they try to force their way into my head when I have a stupid amount of weight on my shoulders. I wish my thoughts had a better sense of timing.