Forgot the usual elixirs ahead of time and went natural, so to speak.
1-arm barbell rows, 3x8 very heavy: kept the weight close to the ground using small plates, stood beside the bar like a suitcase carry, lifted one end to chest. Concentrated on pulling with elbows and squeezing lats. Worked up to RPE=10 and counted the previous 3 sets as my work sets.
Partial pulldown, 4x8, pull to nose height, very wide grip: unfortunately, I went to the little gym and they don't have a plate-loaded pulldown. There was not enough weight on the stack, so I pulled the whole stack and added a 3s pause at the bottom, squeezing hard. Still did sets of 8, and it was tough enough. Repped out the final set.
Cable low-row w/ very wide grip, 4x10: squeezed the lats hard, pulled to bottom of sternum.
DB pullovers, 3x12: keep arms straight, pull only to top of forehead, work very slowly. These are tough. Beat my weight from last time.
Hypers with band, 3x failure: used a simple 45 degree and repped each set out. These were very tough.
As usual, I was the youngest in the gym by about 20 years. I was working hard, sweating hard in front of a fan; weak, pasty old fart walked in, unplugged my fan, and left. Literally left the club. What? I was incredulous. Never once looked at me. I'm pretty hard to miss.
Politeness is dead in California, I'm convinced. We're one minor disaster away from a complete failure of civility.
I'll be over here. Thanks for checking in.
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