It was almost with boyish glee that I started Bulk Chest. With only a few weeks left, I was overly excited at the results that had been coming in quickly over the last few days. It was incredibly motivating.
I worked out with Rob again. Great spotter. Heavy weights, good times.
Final two reps of a devastating incline press progressive set. I did my best to focus my rage to no avail. “Help!” I said once, followed quickly by “Help. HELP.” Rob finished his last two reps and rushed over, putting his hands under my elbows and essentially doing the last two reps for me. I felt embarrassed but quickly got over myself.
The very last set of decline pushups. The very last exercise of the bulk chest workout. The very last burst of superhuman effort … and I tasted floor. Three pushups left and my chest and arms gave out. Being the smart guy I was, I didn’t twist or turn to protect myself. Instead, I exerted my unshakable will to not collapse and instead smashed my front teeth against the floor in the process.
I swore. A lot.
Shower finished. Post workout shake finished. Time to report for duty. My right bicep was still exhibiting the same levels of sore as I mentioned last week. I’d have to keep monitoring that – make sure it didn’t become an issue.