I was crushing my strength block — hitting serious rep PRs for squats and moving my deadlift with such speed that Sam was left feeling he should have programmed heavier weights. Bench was going about as well as deadlifts. I had been doing a very gentle cut to get a little closer to my target weight, and by the last week of the cycle I was starting to get tired. When I woke up with a red HRV reading on my last day of the cycle, Kristin administered an extra 50g of carbs, which I opted to take in the form of a Rice Krispy treat (so good), and I made it through that workout quite well. I felt pretty run down during my deload week, and while my HRV readings started to bounce back, I was tired and a little cranky, waiting not-so-patiently for my body and enthusiasm for the gym to rebound.

“It’s really hard to breathe,” I told Sam. I had started to feel crappy and feverish the last Saturday of my deload week. By Monday, it felt like my bronchial tubes were constricted and as if the alvioli in my lungs weren’t able to pull in oxygen the way they normally do. I don’t usually bother going to the doctor’s office when I’m confident I have a virus (rather than a bacterial infection, like strep throat) because there’s not a lot to be done with viruses except rest and to wait the bastards out. But when you usually define hard physical work as throwing 300lbs. on your back and standing up a bunch of times and just breathing suddenly takes effort, well, it’s time to consult a professional.

The diagnosis was type A flu and a prescription for Tamiflu, which made a huge difference. When I awoke on Tuesday morning, I could breathe normally, but it took most of the rest of the week to recover, and even a week later, my respiratory system and my voice still weren’t quite right. One of my colleagues asked if I had abandoned powerlifting for smoking a pack of Camels everyday. I quipped back I could make some extra cash as a throaty lounge singer except that I can’t carry a tune.

(I did get the flu shot, but it doesn’t always guarantee you won’t get the flu. The doctor I saw commented that at minimum it keeps you out of the hospital. Do not use getting the flu even when you got the flu shot as a reason not to get vaccinated. It may well have slowed or lessened the effects of the flu, giving me time to get to the doc’s office. Also, as of February 15, the CDC estimated that between 16,000 and 41,000 people died from the flu this season. Stop freaking out about coronavirus and get your flu shot.)

I lost a week of training and really struggled with feeling really demoralized while I was sick. I had a lot of really depressing thoughts: Was this the difference between getting on the podium at Worlds? How narrow I was allowing my life to be with such a deep focus on eating right, counting macros, training, and work? Was this really worth it? Isn’t there supposed to be more to life? Why was I doing this? My body hurt with the flu, and some of the nits that bug me in training were even more flared up just lying around.

My brain was not working right. In addition to questioning why I was chasing powerlifting goals, I also felt lousy about my job. Once I felt well enough to work (and I did so from home until I was confident I wasn’t contagious), I tried to stay on top of things, working for a few hours once I felt reasonable, then napping, then working a few more hours. I felt awful about how I was performing. I was easily frustrated, which isn’t normal for me, and cognitively I wasn’t processing information as well as usual. I guess flu-brain is a thing.

I consoled myself when I was too sick to function by catching up with Marvel Universe movies. And I discovered Halo Top. I have a sneaking suspicion once I’m totally better I’ll find it revolting because I’m hypersensitive to sugar substitutes, but when you are sick, it is really delicious.

By Friday, I felt well enough to go to work and was in better spirits during the day. I also made my first trip back to the gym, committed to do just enough work to remind my body how to squat and bench press. I was tired and lifts felt pretty miserable but mostly my brain just felt awful. I quickly sank back into that space of feeling really demoralized. Things hurt. Why was I putting myself through this?

On Saturday, I was back at the gym, feeling better both mentally and physically. I still wasn’t ready for sets of 10 on my supplemental lifts because I’d get too winded and my bronchial tubes were still extremely sore. But I chased after my squat work, hitting a nice peak single, something we were just adding to this block. My back-off work was sets of three at a weight that I thought would be fine. I stopped after the second rep on the first set because I wasn’t confident that I had a third, and I hadn't dragged Sam over to be my psychological support spotter. I pulled him over for the second set. The first rep felt slow and heavy to me (but they all do at a certain weight). My second rep genuinely felt really slow and heavy, and I felt like I had allowed the weight to push me pretty far forward. I really wasn’t sure about the third rep, but I had my psychological support spotter, I'm not always good at judging my abilities, and if I could correct that forward lean I figured I’d better just get my act together and not be a chickenshit.

I failed epicly.

This was my first time ever failing at a squat, so I guess maybe that means I’m a real powerlifter now? I also failed really safely. When I started to feel my body begin to descend and realized how far forward my weight had gotten and that the bar was beginning to roll toward my neck, I knew Sam and I could get hurt trying to rescue the lift. So I quickly ducked my head and dumped the bar forward. I went home with the smallest bit of soreness in my neck and at the bottom of my cranium, but we were both fine.

It was fantastically dramatic, and I think a lot harder on my gym witnesses than on me.

We reduced the weight and I finished my last two sets. I made sure to get right back under the bar to erase any fear or concern of failing again. I also acknowledged that I still wasn’t quite myself and wasn’t reading my body well. Actually, I had read my body well, but I was too stubborn to admit I wasn’t all there.

After finishing my squat workout, I took a moment to assess the previous week and my dreadful mood.

“Sam, I’m contacting Human Resources about this week. I’m firing it.”

“I’ll fill out the pink slip for you,” he smiled back.

There are probably a few lessons here, but I think the most important one is a reminder that when you feel like garbage physically, it affects your brain. It affects your emotions. My outlook was grim. By Sunday, going to the gym and working hard left me feeling positive and motivated rather than doubting why I wasn’t just sipping a nice Pinotage while baking something chocolatey and decadent. We’ve all heard that when we have mental and emotional stress, it can make us sick or cause chronic pain. The reverse is true, too: When you are physically down, it changes your brain.

Waiting out those feelings – both the physical discomfort of being sick but also all the negative thoughts that cropped up – is not a strength of mine, and I don’t have great coping strategies for just allowing myself to recover (although catching up on superhero movies was a great idea). I like making decisions and making changes to fix things. Just waiting to recover and having the belief that once I feel better that all the things I enjoy — especially lifting — will bring me happiness again is really hard for me. I want to fix things and conquer things and make decisions to move forward. I don’t want to just wait it out.

Don’t be me. Sometimes you just have to be patient and have a little faith that you’re going to recover and feel better.

And if that doesn’t work, put your feet up in front of Captain Marvel until it does.