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I struggled some with the deadlifts last night, part of that was because I felt a bit drained from the time I woke up. The other part of it was that my blood sugar took a big dip on me, and I didn’t become alert to that until after my second set of deadlifts. When that second set was done, I noticed a sort of blank feeling in my head along with the weakness of the pulls. So I got my glucometer and it turned out a disturbing result of 38 mg/dL. Oops. Don’t know how it happened, about 30 minutes before going down to lift the blood sugar had checked out at 85 mg/dL and I ate some peanut butter M&M’s along with a couple teaspoons of peanut butter.

Chugged down some gatorade because of the 38, but even 15 minutes later, I still felt weak and had a subpar performance. Then I worked on whipping up a shepherd’s pie with hamburger topped by mashed potatoes and carrots, and a layer of peas in between. While that baked, I loaded up the sandbag with 85 lbs and took it outside to enjoy the mild temperatures. Then it was just kind of free form. Hoist the sandbag up off the ground, wrestle it up to a shoulder, maybe walk with it some or squat with it, or walk for a bit, do a squat or two, walk more. I just wrestled with it while the shepherd’s pie finished cooking.

Then about an hour after dinner, I took the sandbag outside again and played with it some more. I probably did up around 50 to 60 squats, walked a good distance with it on my shoulders or in a bearhug position. It felt really good compared to the deadlifts. I felt that I controlled that 85-lb sandbag better than I ever have in the past. The only thing I missed doing with it was trying to press it overhead, I still can’t do heavy 2-armed overhead presses yet with the left shoulder. But no matter on that, by the time I had finished, I felt worked over from top to bottom, from the legs to the torso to the arms, it felt like every muscle had been worked over in wrestling with a sandbag like that.

I had felt inspired some to do the work with the sandbag after reading some yesterday and watching some videos of stonelifters. Now that’s some impressive strength, to see someone wrestle a large stone off the ground. Barbell strength is also impressive, but there’s something measured, cold, and scientific about it. Odd objects like stones or sandbags seem to be more like an art, a rough poetry of the body and its potential and ability. While I wrestled with the sandbag last night, I felt a stern resolve to walk more than it seemed possible, to drop down in a squat, hamstrings against the calves, and then rise back up to standing, do it over and over until when I finally walked it back inside, rolled it off the right shoulder into the crook of my right arm, then set it down on the floor. I felt alive from it all, the hard beats of the heart in the chest, the only somewhat cool air of a mild January night.

And the knowing that with good recovery, I ought to be stronger in a day or two.

I hope that by spring I will be stronger than I’ve ever been. There’s definitely some visible muscle on my body again, although I’m still kind of skinny. I don’t know if I’ll ever be a thick-looking individual, but I can still have enough muscle for it to be visible that I’m not flaccid and without muscle.

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