Call me a hopeless romantic but I like the idea that I am the consciousness of the universe experiencing itself deadlifting. That makes the neurons of my joy centre fire like an AK47 at a KGB/CIA family reunion. Is this the truth or just an existential comfort? I don't care, during the time between when my workout starts and finishes, my muse attends me, it's poetry and for now that's enough.
deadlift (oly grip) 160/3*6
power snatch 60/2*5
overhead squat 60/2*5
volume 4080kgs
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