A regular Joe uses steroids and keeps a diary. Controversy ensues. If you missed the first five parts of this series, you can follow the links below to catch up:
Week 10, Day 3
The final injection of this cycle was last week. My anabolic sun is fast sinking towards the horizon and soon I’ll enter the dark realm of PCT (post-cycle therapy).
I’ve still got some time though, and I’m still hungry. I cruise over to get a piece of beef jerky from a grocery that makes their own stuff – leaving out junk like soy and preservatives. I have food at work, but I had a taste for beef jerky, a primal urge to feast on a hunk of pure protein-laden flesh.
I pushed open the door and some professional looking hottie in a dress stopped in her tracks to check me out. Cool. Her primal instincts probably had her wondering what sort of neck brace she’d need after being hammered into her headboard by a man with more lean mass than her 2.5 children and skinny-fat husband combined.
I got my jerky (a foot and a half long piece) and headed up to the front counter. She popped out of the next aisle and again turned around to check me out, this time stumbling over her high heels. She recovered and I gave her a good smile and a wink. Flustered, she blushed. Don’t tell me women don’t check out men. I felt so violated.
I exit the store somewhere around 13% body fat. Veins are appearing in my upper pecs, the muscle in my forearm is starting to look more pronounced, and my abs are getting crisper – all signs I’m drying out, which surprises me considering how much Adex I’ve been running all along.
Strength-wise, I can intuitively tell when I’m poised to make the next level, and on the flat bench, 305 x 2 has been a silly little roadblock that’s been nagging me, taunting me. It’s a mental thing, and I’m getting pissed. Tomorrow I’m going to take the 305 x 2 challenge and crush it. Then I’m going to continue kicking ass until they have to get a couple truckloads of ass special-delivered so I can complete my orgy of ass-kicking! Bring it on!
Yeah, the sun might be setting, but some Test still lingers in my veins.
Week 10, Day 4
I did everything in my power to get ready for today, starting last night. I arrived home hungry (seems I’m either eating or hungry, there’s no in between) and cooked two pounds of hamburger and two pounds of noodles. I put it all in a pot with some spaghetti sauce and ate most of it. My stomach was so full it was uncomfortable. I ate cottage cheese before going to bed early–and I still woke up hungry in the morning! The anabolic fires still burn hot.
This morning I cooked my big pot of oatmeal with frozen blueberries, mixing in some creatine and Power Drive for good measure. I felt pretty good driving to the gym. I got there right on time and my partner was nowhere to be seen. I friggin’ hate that! Benching is the one thing where I really need a spotter, especially with my ribs the way they are.
I stalled, doing three warm-up sets, hoping he’d show. Finally, exasperated, I just had to go ahead with the first set.
215 x 8
Then he showed up. At least he cared enough to speed 20mph over the whole way in!
240 x 6
Loaded up 265 for the next set, but as I laid down on the bench I realized I was wasting precious, very limited anabolic time. I need more weight!
275 x 4
This was borderline tough. It’s really frustrating because if I could generate some bar speed I’d be blasting through this crap. Instead I have to go slow and kind of nurse it up (due to my ribs). Not exactly confidence inspiring.
My next set was to be 305 x 2. I honestly didn’t feel like I could do it at that point. Then I thought about what I wrote yesterday, how I’d done 315 so many times without any trouble and for crying out loud, just fuckin’ do it!
305 x 2
So I did it, no problem. The next set was even more challenging: 285 x 4. I’ve gotten two and three reps out of it, but number four has remained elusive. I told myself that if I’d made it this far this morning, I was going to do four or bust a gut trying!
285 x 4
Tough, but I did it! The last rep was about 90% mind and 10% muscle. The next set (315) wasn’t part of the plan, but you know it makes me happy, baby!
315 x 1
Pure mind power again. If the bar had gone up any slower you wouldn’t have been able to see it move. Talk about time under tension! I was over the hump and off the plan, so my partner moved off to another room for pull-ups. This one red-headed hottie is always asking me for spots, so I asked her for one. The bar felt light; we laughed, something about being able to do more around the opposite sex.
245 x 6
225 x 9
Yep, and if anyone gives me any shit about only being able to get nine with 225 on my burnout, I’m going to break their ribs and put them through this exact workout.
Finishing that up I was pretty depleted, but I moved on to bent barbell rows, then mixed in a couple sets of narrow grip benches for triceps with 225. That was it. There was no ass left in the gym to kick. I have to go back for bi’s at lunch after they deliver more, or do them at home tonight.
Week 10, Weekend
I had a pretty good weekend. It was Father’s Day, made special by playing with my kid, devouring two large, juicy steaks for lunch and getting a fantastic BJ. What more can a man ask for? (Another blowjob?)
Oh yeah, and my wife is pregnant again. Happened just before the cycle started. She’s also to the point where her hormones are raging in a good way and she’s really horny. I think this is God’s way of saying I better put some in the bank for after the baby is born. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to make a deposit.
Week 11, Day 1
I wasn’t feeling particularly motivated this morning. Got to bed late both Friday and Saturday, and it’s hard to make that up in one night. My workout was lacking in the performance and motivation departments. Am I leaving the super-physiological realm?
Week 11, Day 2
Every workout starts by preparing the night before, right? So last night was a little hectic. I had to get home early and plant three trees for the wife. I got home and noticed the water heater exhaust fan was running and running and running. The water heater was dead. Thirteen years out of a six year warranty isn’t bad I guess, but in my current hormonal state it kind of pissed me off.
Then I somehow fell off my clean-eating plan and ate about a quart of ice cream before going out in the heat and digging. Stupid, stupid, stupid. So I get out there and start digging, and man, the dirt was flying. Rediject Test Prop should be right next to the shovels at Home Depot. I was an earth-moving machine!
On my third hole I hit a rock. A big rock, picture the biggest Swiss ball you’ve ever tripped over on your way to the squat rack and that was about half of it. There was no way I was going to dig around it. Normally I would’ve sat down and thought about what to do, maybe put the tree somewhere else or something, but I was boiling inside. The pot boiled over. Enough of this shit! I got a sledge hammer and powered up to full postal mode. I literally beat the thing to pieces, probably setting my ribs back a week in the process.
(Yeah, and on the subject of “roid rage,” whether it actually happens to people without psychological problems while on AAS is anyone’s guess. I feel fantastic while “on,” but as T-levels came crashing down post-cycle I definitely had some feelings of pure rage churning beneath an otherwise calm surface. Whether or not you can hold those feeling in check for a week or two is the true test.)
By the time the last tree was in the hole, I’d already missed dinner by an hour, and for some reason, I wasn’t hungry. I forced down a couple of tacos anyway, had a couple glasses of milk, a bunch of water, and then read Peter Rabbit for the 143rd time to Three. I realized I needed to take a shower. Cold showers are great and all, but I like to at least start warm. An ice cold shower cooled my rage and brought be back to reality.
So now it’s getting late and I need to go to bed. I walked into the room only to find Three had been playing in my bedroom with a ball and knocked a glass of water onto the floor along with the alarm clock. I clean it up and go to reset the alarm. As I’m trying to set it, I notice water running out of the clock. Fortunately I wasn’t electrocuted, however, there’s no AM/PM anymore. Clock is dead.
So I got a late, alarmless start today. I arrived late for my workout and my partner chose today to be early of all days, so he’s already half done with bench. I had to rush to catch up.
225 x 8
250 x 6
270 x 4
290 x 3
305 x 2 (Got 1.3) This is becoming a white whale to my Moby Dick.
305 x 2 (Got 1.5) Goddamn whale!
305 x 1 (Dammit!)
After this I was supposed to get 315 x 1 and 270 x 4, neither of which scare me, but I was completely out of gas. I stopped it right there because I’m going to reboot and have motherfucking whale for lunch! There’s no way I’m going to puss out on this. This is pure mental. If my body wants to play the mental game, then I’ll give it mental. My mind controls my body, but make no mistake: I control my mind!
It’s been almost two weeks since my last shot, and I made a decision. If most strength can be maintained post-cycle, then I’m going to maintain 100% and even gain a little through good PCT and sheer force of will. I’m not going to give any ground on this one. Inside I feel meaner (maybe a hint of rage even) and far more determined than the weights in the gym.
Now excuse me while I reboot, recharge and fuel up for revenge. 305 x 2, you’re gonna be my bitch.
Week 11, Day 2, Lunch
Okay, so I fueled up. I arrived at the gym. Walking across the parking lot I still had some doubts flitting around the dark recesses of my mind. I’m not immortal anymore. I felt like a soldier that had fought the last 11 weeks of a campaign in full body armor, and today went into battle in his birthday suit. Okay, not great. Was this stupid? Going back after the beating I took this morning? Do it!
I warmed up with the bar. Felt good, except the bench was slippery and there were a couple of yahoos using my favorite bar.
135 x 5
225 x 2
265 x 2
Now or never!
305 x 2
Bang-bang, smoked it! I got the whale! So then I was supposed to do 315 x 1. WTF? Again? Should I go for 320? How about 325 or bust?
325 x 1
PR! No problem. So I’m grinning like a fool. Felt like I was high, very high. Endorphins running amok. I threw on my straps for bent rowing and busted two hotties checking me out as I hopped up on the bench and wrapped up on 225.
225 x 8 PR
225 x 6
225 x 5
Remember this the next time you feel like giving up. I could’ve called it a day this morning, but look what I would’ve missed – two PR’s!
Some of you are probably wondering what I eat, and today it was one surprise after another. It started off clean:
Big pot of real oatmeal with real blueberries and whole milk
And here’s where it gets interesting. Either my wife thought I was a garbage disposal, or I grabbed the garbage bag by accident. I was in a hurry so it’s anyone’s guess at this point:
1 PB&J gently used sandwich (with one small bite out of it courtesy of my 3 year old)
1 tuna sandwich (soggy! God knows how old it was)
2 club sandwiches with lots of meat. Once again, one was gently used and had a couple bites out of it.
1 apple (whole, no bites out of it)
1 double cheeseburger
3 scoops ice cream (Hey, it was free and there were no bites out of it!)
That takes me through lunch. I was reloading my protein powder containers at home and forgot them in the madness last night/this morning. After lunch?
1 pouch of tuna
2 steaks (~2lbs total)
2 medium potatoes
3 good beers
2 cups watermelon
1 cup cottage cheese
All in all a good day, and I still have fun stuff to do tonight! Incidentally, my diet is focused on maintaining or gaining weight. Now is not the time to diet or get obsessed with trying to be lean.
Week 11, Day 2, Evening
I’m fried. At softball tonight I felt like my muscles were junk. I was totally spent. My throwing was totally wild and unpredictable, no control. My tri’s are swollen bundles of misconnected, short-circuiting cables after the double bench workout. Yet it’s nothing a couple of steaks and some beer won’t fix.
Anyway, before the game, I stopped at a pub to meet my old college roommate again. It’s been five weeks. Last time he saw me I was a little bloated I guess. This time? Well, here’s how the conversation went, verbatim. Keep in mind that my lifting partner who knows I juice is also sitting at the table (biting his tongue!).
J: (Bewildered look) You’ve lost weight in your face. It’s all gone to your chest.
W: (Not another steroid inquisition!) Yeah, I guess it slid down.
J: (Concerned) Dude, you’re not doing creatine again are you? (He always rides me about creatine and protein and how dangerous they are!)
W: (Glancing over at partner) Don’t get on me about the creatine, J.
Oh, and the waitress was totally hitting on me, even though I was dressed for softball. We were in a nice pub, people wearing ties, and I’m in my shorts, T-shirt and cleats. I may not have taken a shot for awhile, but I’m still reeking of Testosterone. “T” can be a pheromone, as well as an anabolic. Can’t keep a good horse down.
Week 11, Day 3
Whew! Well, I can’t tell you how on top of the world I felt on Tuesday. I was just over the freaking moon! Yesterday I came back to earth. My body has to be laying down some new muscle, because I’ve been ravenously hungry the last couple days.
My wife is really getting on me about how much I eat. So last night I ate a good dinner, then had my cottage cheese right before bed. I ate some watermelon too. At three this morning I woke up and was too hungry to fall back asleep, so I got up and ate more cottage cheese. Took me awhile to fall back asleep because I’d been sleeping on my fractured rib side. Hard to fall asleep when it hurts to breathe.
Today I still feel I’m recovering from my all-out efforts two days ago. Took it pretty easy in the gym doing only deadlifts, but hey, I feel I earned the break. Oh, and check this out: I’m getting acne on my chest. What’s up with that? Why now? I don’t get it.
Week 11, Day 4
I’m still coasting down from my mountaintop experience Tuesday. Nothing too exciting to report on the cycle front. I woke up this morning with a sore nipple. I had a zit on my areola! Didn’t think that was possible. That was kinda painful to pop.
I’ll start HCG this weekend and Clomid. I hate Clomid. If I start saying all sorts of PMS type stuff, don’t just bear with me. Slap me back into line!
I seem to have gained a couple pounds this week from my feeding frenzy the last few days. This is cool. I’m going to keep eating. Also started Methoxy-7 the other day.
Anyway, today in the gym I was taking a rest from the heavy stuff on bench. Then I wanted to dip my toes in the water of the Westside pool, so I tried pin presses or lockouts or something like that, not sure what they’re called. I set the bar on the pins and then locked it out from there, had a 7.5″ ROM (I measured). This fried my tri’s. Finished up with curls.
I just have to say I really like the thicker bars. I use the thick bar whenever I can, I detest the skinny bars now. Thanks for letting me get that out.
Week 12, Day 1
Wow. Has it been 12 weeks already? Three months I’ve been pouring myself into this cycle. What has it gotten me? Here are my numbers, before and after.
After: 330-340, gained 30
After: 420, gained 50
After: 390-400, gained 70-80
Before: 225 x 1
After: 225 x 8
I’m pretty happy with those gains. I’ve also gained 12 to 14 pounds on the scale and lost some body fat along the way. Looking at that, I’m surprised at how much I gained on squats compared to deads. I’d have thought it would’ve been the opposite, as I felt I’d been holding back on deads.
Known negative sides (current):
Some hair loss on temples (will see if it comes back; some came back after last cycle)
Some temporary nut shrinkage. The HCG seemingly blew them back up overnight!
Reduced sex drive at end of cycle, but not as bad as last time (it’ll come roaring back)
Other sides experienced at some point during the cycle:
Instances of shortness of breath, difficulty breathing
I should be pretty close to the end right now as exogenous hormone levels start to fade and I enter fully into the sunset realm of PCT. We’ll see what I hang on to.
Week 12, Day 1
I’m sitting here trying to figure out my workout for tomorrow. I got it figured out and it’s making me nervous. I want to break my PR and hit at least 330 on the bench. Why can’t I just settle for something easy?
Everything has to line up just right, dinner tonight, sleep, and all of a sudden I realized this flashing indicator light in my brain means I really need to get laid or… I’ll suffer a testicular meltdown! Crap! For that to happen tonight with a three year old and me getting to bed on time, everything has to go down just right.
I think I’ve got it all set and confirmed plans with the wife. Told her it’s an emergency. I have to blow a good load tonight or the HCG could permanently damage my nuts! (Nah, just kidding. I didn’t have to use that one.)
Wish me luck!
Week 12, Day 2
Well, some days you get the dragon, and some days despite your best efforts, it gets you. I went for 335 today and got about five or six inches off my chest. Then I went for 330 and got stapled. Just didn’t have it together mentally.
I wasn’t feeling the greatest and today probably wasn’t the most brilliant choice in terms of timing, coming after a brutal, CNS-punishing squat workout yesterday. But I’m not going to sit here and make excuses. I just didn’t get it.
So let’s look at the positive stuff. I did get some much-needed action last night! Man, was I ever impressed with the money shot! Clomid + HCG = more than you can imagine! I bet I was a good half-pound lighter after that.
Week 12, Day 3
Okay, I’m ready to get off these drugs. It’s been twelve bloody weeks. Yesterday I hit a bird which exploded against my windshield in a puff of brown feathers. Really started me thinking. Here’s how I’d respond to hitting a bird under different circumstances:
Normal: Thump! Bummer, nothing I could’ve done.
On steroids: Thump! Ha! Stupid bird. Is that all you’ve got?
On Clomid: Thump! Oh my God! That poor bird! I wonder if it was a mother and had all sorts of little baby birdies.
Then I continued feeling bad for the entire evening about the damn bird. So I think this Clomid feeling is how women feel a lot of the time–much more emotional than men typically are. I’m not pretending to be an authority or anything, just thinking out loud. For some random bird to be on my mind for hours is just not me! Anyway, I have a month of this crap to go through.
Week 12, Day 4
Well, the good news is I got up with my alarm this morning. Bad news is the power went out a few minutes later. So I puttered around for a bit, hoping power would come back on. It didn’t. No oatmeal would be cooked this morning. Cold cereal, not the best fuel. I went to brush my teeth and there was no water either. The well tank had gone dry. Damn.
Well, I can still work out, and I’ll brush my teeth at the gym. So I get in the car, drive a few hundred yards, and the road is completely blocked by the guys trying to restore power and cut up the tree which had fallen on the power line and burned. Seemed like a good metaphor for the current state of my endocrine system, except I’m not going to fall over and burn, dammit!
I eventually made it in and my partner started bitching me out. I explained, didn’t warm up, just jumped right on the bench. Decided warming up really makes a difference! The first couple sets felt heavy. The first set was just brutal. Felt like my power was out!
I’ve never quite gotten the last rep of the next set. I needed to do something special. So I told my partner/spotter, “Lift this thing off, and when I finish the fifth rep, walk away. Walk far enough where there’s no chance you can save me.”
270 x bang-bang-bang-bang-bang-partner walks away. I feel a palpable surge of what must have been adrenaline-BANG! Six!
Time out. Let’s compare today’s effort with a similarly structured workout from the beginning of the cycle. Ah, the beauty of steroids.
195 x 6
210 x 6
225 x 6
235 x 5
245 x 2
215 x 6
230 x 6
250 x 6
255 x 6
270 x 6
So I’m feeling pretty good and getting ready for bent rows when my partner’s wife (hot) walks in. She’s a good friend. She’s all excited to tell me something.
J: “I have to tell you about a dream I had last night!” she exclaimed.
What a perfect setup…
W: “Was it about me again?”
Everyone laughs, she blushes. Turns out it was something about her getting a new job.
It’s been three weeks since my last shot. I’m hanging on, but there’s a lot more hanging on to do before I’m officially out of the dark night called PCT. With the long acting esters involved I’m barely even on my own.
I’m happy with how things are going so far, but can I keep it going through PCT or will it all melt away as the sun rises again, this time on an unassisted me? We’ll see.