My fitness goal this year was to put on 5lbs of muscle.
Well you'd think so.
Since the start of the year I've been doing four gym sessions a week and I've been eating like a pro. Chicken, turkey, tuna, sweet potato, brown rice - all the good stuff.
When I weighed myself at the start of the year I was 11st 5lbs, and when I weighed myself a month ago I was ... 11st 6lbs.
Jesus Christ. All that hard work for what? One pound?
You could argue, that I was losing fat and gaining muscle, but this wasn't good enough for me. I decided to take the next step ... the GOMAD diet.
What the flip is a GOMAD? It translates to a Gallon Of Milk A Day. That's 8 pints!
One month later I jumped on the scales and I was ... 12st 4lbs
That's nearly a whole stone. Obviously it's not a stone of pure muscle. It's likely a mixture of muscle, fat, and water, but with a bit of cutting this next month, the results should be a little clearer.
One evening my girlfriend caught me struggling to hold down a particularly eggy mouthful of milk. She said 'why are you putting yourself through this? Just to look better?'
'No, not at all,' I said.
I'm not a vain person. I'm a balding twenty-six year old with a patchy beard and a poor sense of fashion. I'm not lifting for vanity, so why then?
I've come to realise that lifitng is a metaphor for life.
If I'm not willing to go to the gym, not willing to lift some weights, eat some raw eggs, drink some milk, then I'm wasting my time. If I'm not willing to do these relatively simple things, then who the hell am I to want to do bigger things in life? I have to do this, to prove to myself that I can do more.