The mirror is honest in a way nothing else is. It reflects the accumulation of days — the sessions that were focused, the ones that were rushed, the habits that stuck, and the ones that still need tightening. Standing here, there’s no performance and no audience. Just a moment to assess what the work has actually produced so far.
Progress shows up quietly. In density. In lines that weren’t there before. In balance improving, even when it’s imperfect. This is part of the process I respect most — stepping back, studying the details, and deciding where the next phase needs more attention.
July 2018. There’s something about food fresh off the grill that just lands differently. The moment you catch that first smell of smoke in the air, your attention snaps to it. The nose perks up before you even see the fire. It’s instinctive. There’s something deeply primal about that scent — meat, heat, and smoke carried on a warm summer breeze.
Grilling is a full sensory experience. The sizzle when the meat hits the grate. The glow of the coals. The heat on your skin as you lean in to check the sear. Smoke rising, spices blooming, timing everything just right. It’s not passive cooking — it’s a small performance. The grillmaster chooses the cut, the seasoning, the moment to flip, the moment to pull it off the heat.
And it’s rarely a solo act. Grilling brings people together. Someone’s watching, someone’s waiting, someone’s already planning what they’ll grab first. Good protein, cooked well, shared in the open air — it’s simple, effective, and hard to beat on a summer day.
A lot of people think progress comes down to one big factor: the perfect program, the perfect supplement stack, the perfect coach, the perfect routine. And yes—those things matter. But if you want to improve consistently over time, there’s one tool that quietly separates people who “train” from people who actually build a physique on purpose.
It’s not a secret exercise. It’s not a new method. And this is what it is:
It’s a training journal.
I don’t mean journaling in a motivational way, like writing down your feelings. I mean something practical: tracking what you do, how your body responds, and what needs to change. If you compete—or even if you just take training seriously—your notebook becomes the difference between guessing and knowing.
Why Most People Stay Stuck
Most people train in a loop. They repeat the same week, over and over, but they don’t realize it because they aren’t paying attention. They’ll say things like, “I’ve been training hard for years,” but they couldn’t tell you what they did last Thursday, what load they used, how many reps they hit, or whether their performance went up or down.
They train by memory. Or by mood.
And then they wonder why they don’t improve.
The truth is simple: if you don’t track it, you can’t control it. And if you can’t control it, you’re relying on luck.
My Journal Isn’t Just About Weights
People assume a training journal is only about tracking numbers: weight, sets, reps. That’s part of it, but it’s not the most important part. The journal is really about building awareness. It forces you to notice patterns you would otherwise miss.
For example, maybe your strength is down and your pump is flat. You could blame the workout. Or you could look back and realize you slept badly for three nights, your water was low, your sodium wasn’t consistent, and your recovery is simply behind. That’s not a training problem—it’s a system problem.
When you write things down, you start to connect everything: training, recovery, sleep, stress, nutrition, digestion. And once you see the pattern, you can fix the pattern.
Precision Is What Creates Progress
One of the biggest lessons bodybuilding teaches you is that small things don’t stay small when you repeat them every day. If you’re off by 10–20 grams in your meals, it won’t ruin you once. But over weeks and months, it changes your results. The same thing happens with training.
If you’re always training “around” failure, but never actually tracking whether you’re progressing, you can stay in the same place for a long time. You’ll feel like you’re working hard, but your body won’t have a reason to adapt.
Writing things down forces you to be honest. It removes the illusion. It shows you exactly what you did, what you didn’t do, and whether the plan is working.
The Journal Helps You Adjust Like a Professional
I don’t train in a perfect weekly schedule like most people imagine. I usually run more like a rhythm—three days on, one day off—and I adjust based on how my body is recovering. That’s not random. That’s tracked.
Sometimes you think a muscle is recovered, but when you train it, you realize it’s not efficient. You feel slower, weaker, or disconnected. The journal helps you track that. Over time, you learn your own recovery patterns—what your body needs, how much rest you require, what volume you can handle, and what intensity you can sustain.
That’s why I always say: the program should adapt to the athlete, not the athlete to the program. But you can’t adapt the program if you don’t have data.
The Journal Makes You Less Emotional
This is a big one. Bodybuilding is emotional, especially during prep. Some days you feel unstoppable, other days you feel tired and flat and mentally you start questioning everything.
If you don’t have notes, you’ll make decisions based on emotion. You’ll start changing everything because you feel off for one day. That’s where people create chaos. They jump from plan to plan, looking for the perfect answer, and they end up creating more stress than results.
The journal keeps you grounded. It reminds you that one bad day doesn’t mean the plan is wrong. It helps you make adjustments based on trends, not moods.
What I Track (Without Overcomplicating It)
I keep it simple, but consistent. I track what I need to make good decisions later. The basics always matter—loads, reps, exercises, rest times—but I also note things like how the movement felt, whether a muscle was actually doing the work, and whether my performance matched how recovered I should be.
I also pay attention to the things people ignore: sleep, digestion, hydration, stress, and anything that changes the way my body responds. If you don’t sleep enough, that impacts training. If your recovery is off, your intensity drops. If your intensity drops, your growth slows. Everything is connected.
And once you see those connections on paper, you stop guessing. You stop blaming random things. You learn to manage your body like a system.
Why This Matters Even If You Don’t Compete
You don’t need to step on stage to benefit from this. The journal is about respect—for your time, your work, and your goals. If you train without tracking, it’s easy to waste months doing the same thing, repeating the same mistakes, or thinking you’re improving when you’re not.
But if you write things down, you create a feedback loop. You can see what works, what doesn’t, and what you need to change. That’s how you build a physique over years, not weeks.
The Real Point
The training journal isn’t “extra.” It’s not something you do only if you’re obsessed. It’s something you do if you want to take this seriously.
Because the longer you train, the more the details matter. And the people who win long-term aren’t the ones with the best intentions. They’re the ones who can stay precise, stay consistent, and keep improving without losing control of the process.
Your body doesn’t respond to motivation.
It responds to what you do repeatedly.
And when you have the journal, you can finally see what you’re actually doing.
Miami is a place I’ve passed through many times over the years, and every visit hits a little differently depending on where I’m at in my training. On the surface, it’s obvious why bodybuilders gravitate here: the weather, the gyms, the beaches, the culture built around physiques and performance. But what keeps pulling me back goes deeper than that. Here’s what I love about Miami.
Miami has a particular energy that makes you feel awake, even when you’re tired, and that matters when you’re living inside a routine that can get repetitive.
There’s a rhythm to Miami that works for training. Mornings start early, with long walks along the water or light cardio before the heat fully settles in. The city feels softer at that hour — less show, more motion. You’ll see runners, cyclists, people walking dogs, people who look like they’ve already been awake for hours. Even if you’re traveling, you don’t feel like you’re fighting the day. The light comes up fast, the air has that warm salt edge, and your body starts moving without needing much convincing.
Gyms come alive quickly — not rushed, not chaotic, just focused. You’ll see competitors, coaches, and people who take their training seriously, but without the tension that sometimes hangs in colder cities. Everyone’s there to work, then move on with their day. Miami attracts a lot of athletes for the same reason it attracts everyone else: it’s a place where you can build a routine that feels good. Train hard, eat well, walk a lot, get sun, recover. The basics become easier to execute when the environment supports them.
Training in Miami feels different because recovery is woven into the setting. Salty air, sun, walking everywhere — your body stays warm and loose in a way that makes movement feel easier. Even simple things feel like they contribute. A long walk after training turns into a cooldown without you having to force it. Sitting outside between meals keeps you from getting stiff. If you’ve been dealing with tight hips, tight ankles, a cranky low back — the kind of travel stiffness that creeps up on you — Miami is one of the few places where you can undo that just by living your day normally.
The heat also changes how you approach effort. You learn quickly that you can’t spend the entire day trying to run through walls. You pick your moments. You train with intent, then you cool down, hydrate, and respect the fact that your body is doing extra work just existing in that climate. I like that lesson. Bodybuilding already demands patience and restraint. Miami reinforces it in a more subtle way — it rewards people who know how to manage energy instead of burning it all in one place.
And then there’s the visual side of it, which I won’t pretend doesn’t matter. Miami is honest about bodies. People are outside. People move. You see physiques everywhere: lean, athletic, strong, expressive. That can be motivating when you’re deep into prep and your brain starts shrinking your world down to numbers, reps, and meals. A city like this reminds you why you’re doing it. The goal isn’t just performance in the gym — it’s building a body that works, that moves well, that holds up under stress, and that can actually live in the world.
Of course, Miami has distractions. It’s loud, it’s flashy, and it doesn’t pretend otherwise. There’s always music somewhere. There’s always something happening. You can walk outside for ten minutes and see a whole cast of characters. Sometimes that’s fun. Sometimes it’s a test. When you’re in a serious training block, you’re not here to drift. You’re here to execute. That contrast is part of the appeal, because it forces you to practice focus in a place that’s built to pull your attention in twenty directions.
And I think that’s why so many bodybuilders like it here. It isn’t just the gyms. It’s the environment that gives you both temptation and structure at the same time. You can train in the morning with total intensity, handle your work, then step into a city that reminds you there’s more to life than the gym walls. Learning to hold your routine in a place like this says a lot about your discipline. It’s easy to be strict in a quiet town with nothing going on. It’s different when the city is basically daring you to be spontaneous.
Miami also has a way of making “fitness culture” feel less like a niche. In some places, bodybuilding feels like a secret language — something you do in the corner while everyone else lives normally. Here, it blends into the landscape. You’ll see people taking care of themselves without making it a big speech. You’ll see athletes who treat training as a normal part of their day. It makes the lifestyle feel more sustainable, more human. Less like you’re pretending to be a monk.
Every time I leave, I notice the same thing: my body feels better than when I arrived. Even if I’m tired, even if I’m in the grind, I feel more fluid. My breathing feels easier. My posture feels cleaner. That doesn’t happen by accident. It’s the walking, the warmth, the ocean air, the consistency, the simple fact that you spend more time outside moving instead of sitting still. Those small things stack up fast.
Miami isn’t just a bodybuilding hotspot. It’s a reminder that training doesn’t have to exist in isolation. When strength, movement, recovery, and lifestyle line up, everything feels sharper — and Miami has a way of making that alignment feel natural.
That moment between reps tells you a lot. Breathing heavy, arms full, heart still racing — it’s where the noise drops and the intent becomes clear again. I’m not thinking about the weight in my hands as much as how I’m holding it, how I’m controlling it, and whether the movement stays clean when fatigue creeps in.
Strong arms aren’t built by rushing through sets or chasing sensation alone. They’re built through patience, tension, and discipline — learning to stay connected to the movement even when the muscles are burning and the easy option would be to cut corners. That kind of control carries over everywhere: heavier lifts, better stability, and more confidence under load.
This is the work that doesn’t always get noticed, but it shows up later. In stronger pulls, steadier presses, and a physique that looks capable because it actually is. One breath, one rep, one decision to stay locked in.
There’s a small habit in Italy that says a lot: when you order an espresso, they often bring you a tiny glass of water with it. It’s not the main thing you came for, but it makes the whole experience better. Training has the same idea.
Most people focus only on the “main” parts — the heavy sets, the big exercises, the intensity techniques. But real progress is often decided by the small details you do consistently: the thing that costs almost nothing, but adds quality to everything that comes after.
For me, that “glass of water” is the extra work that supports the session without stealing recovery — a short mobility drill for the shoulders, a controlled pump finisher to bring blood into the right area, a few minutes of activation to make sure the target muscle is actually doing the job. It’s not the part that looks impressive on camera, but it’s the part that keeps your training clean, your joints healthy, and your physique improving.
If you’re always chasing the biggest movement, you’ll miss the small pieces that keep you progressing long-term. So next time you train, don’t just ask “what’s the main lift?” Ask: what’s the small detail that makes today’s session better?
This past week had one clear theme for me: cutting noise. The closer you get to a big stage, the more you realize how many little distractions try to steal your output — conversations between sets, phones, filming, drifting mentally, even your own excuses. So I spent this week tightening the same thing from different angles: focus.
On Sculpting Sunday, I wrote about headphones — and why I use them as a tool. When I’m deep in a block, I don’t want my attention split into ten directions. The gym is loud. People mean well. Your brain still wanders. Headphones help me keep the session clean and deliberate, set after set.
Then Motivation Monday showed the other side of the same idea: training with a partner. A good partner doesn’t just bring energy — they keep you honest. They make it harder to coast. They help you stay sharp when the set gets heavy and your mind starts looking for the exit. Accountability is its own form of focus.
Tuesday Travelogue took that mindset somewhere completely different — Venice Beach and Muscle Beach — and I reflected on why that place still matters. Training outdoors, in public, under the sun, has a way of exposing everything: posture, control, intent. It’s also impossible to stand there and not feel the history — especially with Arnold’s shadow on the sand, and the connection that creates heading into the Arnold Classic.
By midweek, I leaned into a topic that’s everywhere right now: the difference between training to improve and training to entertain. I’m fully aware I live in both worlds — I post content too, and I’m not pretending I’m above it. But I wanted to be honest about the line. Cameras change sessions. They interrupt rhythm. They quietly turn work into performance. And if your goal is a pro-level physique, you have to protect the work.
We closed the week with two “quiet” posts that fit the same theme perfectly. Throwback Thursday was a London session — one of those gym moments where you’re surrounded by movement and noise, but you find a small pocket of calm and get the work done anyway. Friday Flex was a mirror check in Prague. Some people see a mirror and think vanity. I see feedback. It’s a way to stay objective, spot what’s improving, catch what’s lagging, and keep the target clear.
That’s the week in one sentence: less noise, more signal.
Next week, I’m going to argue that a journal is as important as any piece of bodybuilding gear — right up there with straps, a belt, even dumbbells. Because memory lies, and progress leaves clues when you write it down. I’ll also share a few subtle details that can quietly upgrade your workouts — small adjustments that change what you feel, what you recruit, and what you actually build.
Ci vediamo la prossima settimana! (See you next week!)
Pausing in a Prague gym for a quick physique check — just me, the mirror, and the work I’ve put in.
To some people, a mirror check looks like vanity. For me, it’s a tool.
The mirror is feedback I can’t get any other way in the moment. It helps me see what’s actually showing up from the training: whether my lats are flaring evenly, if my shoulders are staying level, how my waist is holding when I brace, and whether my posing is clean or sloppy when I’m tired. A good physique isn’t just built under the bar — it’s refined through awareness, and that means being willing to look closely.
These quick checks keep me honest. They highlight strengths I can lean into, and weaknesses I need to bring up — maybe a lagging upper chest, an imbalance side-to-side, or a pose that doesn’t showcase what I’ve earned. Catching that early guides what I do next: how I adjust my training, how I tweak volume, what I prioritize in the coming weeks, and how I practice posing so the progress actually reads on stage or on camera.
Working out in London, UK, in February, 2024. Between reps and sweat, there’s that brief moment to breathe, reset, and refocus. Even in a busy London gym, the mission stays simple: stay consistent, stay hungry.
If you missed it, I recently posted a Tuesday Travelogue where I described my thoughts on London.
I recently had the chance to sit down with The Mens Physique Show for an interview, and it was a great opportunity to talk through where I am right now — both in prep and in the bigger picture.
At the time of the interview, I was about nine weeks out from the Arnold Classic. Prep is always intense, but this phase has been especially focused because I’m bringing a bigger physique than most athletes in Men’s Physique. Being taller and more muscular can be an advantage, but it also means the margin for error is small. Everything has to stay balanced — shape, detail, conditioning, and presentation. The work becomes very precise.
One thing I talked about a lot is mindset. Bodybuilding teaches you quickly that you can’t rely on motivation. You have to rely on discipline. Setbacks happen. Stress happens. But the only thing that matters is how you respond. For me, the goal is always to improve the package and beat the man in the mirror. That’s the real competition.
We also spoke about my background in Italy and how different the culture is compared to places like the U.S. or the Middle East. In some countries, bodybuilding is much more established and supported. That’s one reason I’ve spent more time traveling and competing internationally, and why I see a future where I eventually build more opportunities abroad.
The interview wasn’t only about competing, though. I also shared some of the long-term projects I’m working on outside the stage — especially my interest in building something bigger in the wellness and fitness space. I want to create something that blends training, health, lifestyle, and real support for people, not just aesthetics.
Bodybuilding is what people see, but the deeper work is always what happens behind it: structure, habits, consistency, and long-term vision.
The fitness world has changed a lot in the last few years. Training used to be something you did quietly, for yourself, and maybe for a small circle of people who understood what you were chasing.
Now, training is also content. Cameras are everywhere. Every set can become a clip to be deposited in a social feed; every workout can become a “series”; and the gym itself has turned into a stage.
I understand it — I use social media too — but I also think it’s important to be honest about the difference between training to entertain and training to improve.
Because the truth is: those are not the same thing. Here’s why.
When your goal is to build a professional-level physique, training has to be treated like work.
It’s not about what looks impressive in a video or what gets the most comments. It’s about what produces results over time — not just for one week, but across months, years, and entire competitive seasons.
That mindset changes how you approach everything, from the way you structure your program to the way you recover and track progress.
How the Camera Changes the Session
One of the biggest problems with influencer-style training isn’t that it’s “wrong.” It’s that the camera quietly reshapes the purpose of the workout.
The moment you’re filming, you’re no longer only training — you’re also performing. You start thinking about angles, timing, lighting, and how to make the set look intense. Even if you don’t mean to, you talk more, you pause more, and you interrupt your rhythm. The workout becomes fragmented, and that changes your output.
A professional athlete doesn’t have the luxury of treating training like a performance. When I’m in prep, especially, every session has a job to do. I’m not there to create a moment. I’m there to create progress.
The Difference Is What You’re Training For
A lot of influencer training is built around what’s exciting to watch. There’s constant variation, new techniques every week, workouts designed to look brutal, and an endless search for the “next thing.”
Sometimes it’s entertaining, and sometimes there are good ideas inside it. But entertainment and effectiveness aren’t the same. If you change everything too often, you lose your ability to measure progress, because you’re never repeating enough of the same stimulus to know what’s actually working.
Professional training is usually simpler than people expect, because it’s focused. Most of the time, the best physiques are built through the basics done extremely well, repeated long enough for the body to adapt. The difference is not the exercise selection. The difference is execution, consistency, and the ability to apply the plan without constantly reinventing it.
Why My Training Can Look “Boring” From the Outside
Some people see my training and think it looks too basic: endless rows, presses, raises, controlled reps, and a lot of attention to form.
But that’s exactly the point. I’m not trying to surprise my body every session. I’m trying to force adaptation by giving it the right stimulus, consistently, and then adjusting only when the feedback tells me to. The more advanced you get, the more you realize that progress usually comes from precision, not chaos.
The Goal Isn’t a Better Clip — It’s a Better Physique
I respect anyone who uses social media to help people get into training. That’s not the issue. The issue is when people confuse content with competence, or when they start training to be watched instead of training to improve.
If your goal is to build a serious physique, you have to be willing to do what works even when it’s not exciting, not trendy, not photogenic, and not impressive to strangers.
Venice Beach has a way of announcing itself before you even reach the sand. The air tastes like salt and sunscreen. The light is sharp. Thumping music spills out of passing cars and portable speakers, then fades as quickly as it arrives. People move through it with purpose or with performance — sometimes both — and the boardwalk feels like a rolling collage of characters.
Let me tell you more about this special place and what it meant to me when I last visited.
Venice Beach is one of those places where you can watch completely different worlds sharing the same stretch of pavement: skaters carving close to the edge of control, artists selling prints in the sun, tourists drifting in packs, and lifters walking toward the outdoor platforms with the quiet focus of someone heading to work.
Venice has always had that mix. It was built to be a little theatrical. Even the geography feels dramatic: ocean on one side, the city stacked right behind it, and a constant flow of bodies moving through the seam between them. Needless to say, it’s a great spot to people watch.
For strength athletes like me, the magnet is Muscle Beach — a small patch of outdoor equipment that carries an outsized reputation.
The story starts earlier than most people realize. In the 1930s and 40s, “Muscle Beach” referred to an athletic culture on the Southern California coast where gymnasts and acrobats performed in public: hand balancing, tumbling, rings, feats of coordination and control that drew crowds the way street performances do today.
Over time, training equipment showed up, along with bodybuilders looking to improve their strength. By the 1950s and 60s, the beach had become a stage for physical culture — not bodybuilding as we think of it now, but the broader idea that a body could be engineered through training.
The outdoor setting mattered. Everything happened in full view. There was no climate control, and no curated lighting. Just sun, heat, wind, and an audience that wandered by out of curiosity and stayed for the spectacle.
The 1970s are what sealed the myth. That decade turned Venice into a headquarters for modern bodybuilding: Gold’s Gym nearby, the beach a public showroom. It’s impossible to talk about that era without mentioning the G.O.A.T. Arnold Schwarzenegger. He trained there during the years when he was becoming Arnold — the version of him that would take bodybuilding into pop culture, then out of the sport entirely and into a larger American story.
Around him were other defining figures: Franco Columbu (who hailed from my home country, Italy), Frank Zane, and the wider cast that made those years feel like a formative moment in time rather than a normal training scene.
You can still feel traces of it, despite changes that have occurred. The equipment may look different today, but not the atmosphere around the training area.
People don’t wander over the same way they do at a normal park. They slow down. They look longer. They watch sets. They try to understand what they’re seeing. In a way, it’s not just an outdoor gym, but performance art.
When I think back on my own visit, what stays with me is how exposed everything feels. Outdoors, the body reads differently. You notice posture and movement patterns. You notice who controls the weight and who survives it. You notice the difference between someone who’s training with intention and someone chasing attention.
My past trip to Venice Beach is on my mind as I prepare for the upcoming Arnold Classic.
The Arnold carries its own gravity because it’s tied to a specific lineage — the idea of bodybuilding as something earned through years of repetition, structure, and patience. The name on the show connects directly back to those Venice years, when the sport was still defining itself in public, long before it became an industry of highlight clips and fast edits. When I’m deep into prep, I think about places like Muscle Beach as reminders of where the standards came from: bodies built slowly, and shown without excuses.
Venice itself is larger than bodybuilding, of course. It has the beach lifestyle, the art, the odd corners, the constant motion. But Muscle Beach sits inside that chaos like a steady pulse: people showing up, loading plates, tracking progress, doing the same unglamorous work the sport has always required.
And that’s why it’s worth writing about in a Travelogue. Venice is a postcard location, and a living chapter of fitness history. You can walk through it in an afternoon and still leave with the sense that a lot of stories have been, or will be written there — in sweat, under the sun, with the ocean on one side and the crowd passing by on the other.
There’s a different kind of energy when someone steps in and shares the work with you. A good training partner changes the session immediately. The pace tightens up. The standard goes up. You stop letting yourself drift through reps.
For me, the biggest value is honesty. When you train alone, it’s easy to convince yourself you’re being “smart” when you’re really just choosing comfort. A partner sees the difference. They know when you have one more clean rep, and they know when your form is about to break. That keeps the work productive instead of messy.
A strong partner also keeps you safer when intensity climbs. They can help you stay locked into the right positions, keep the tempo under control, and assist when you’re deep in a set and the muscle is fading. That’s when the best growth reps happen — the ones you wouldn’t reach on your own because you’d shut it down early.
And there’s a mindset benefit too. This sport can get narrow when you’re deep into routine. Training with someone who brings good energy makes the grind feel lighter and makes the time go by faster. You leave the gym sharper, more motivated, and more confident — because you didn’t just “get the session done.” You earned it.
Some people think wearing headphones in the gym is antisocial — like you’re shutting everyone out or being “too serious.” But for me, headphones aren’t about attitude. They’re about focus.
When I’m in the middle of prep or pushing a training block hard, the gym isn’t a place to multitask. It’s a place to execute. One distracted set can turn into sloppy form, lost tension, and a workout that looks busy but doesn’t actually move you forward.
Headphones help me stay locked in. They create a boundary between me and everything happening around me — conversations, noise, interruptions, even the temptation to drift mentally between sets. That doesn’t mean I’m disrespectful. If someone says hello, I’ll always show respect. But when the set starts, I’m not there to perform socially. I’m there to train.
If you struggle with consistency or intensity, try this: put your headphones on, build your own bubble, and treat focus like part of the workout.
This past week was all about small adjustments — the kind that don’t look dramatic on the surface, but add up when you repeat them.
On Sculpting Sunday, I shared a lunge variation I’ve been using when I want more control and better mechanics. Loading a plate high on the back changes the entire movement. Your posture cleans up immediately, your core switches on, and you can’t hide weak spots. You feel right away why it works.
Monday’s Motivation Monday came straight from a hard session. There’s a point in training where effort stops being automatic and you have to decide whether you’re willing to stay in it. That’s what Push Until It’s Real was about — that moment where the work either sharpens you or exposes you.
Tuesday was a change of pace with a new Tuesday Travelogue, this time about my past travels to London. London has a way of keeping you alert. Everything moves fast, but not randomly. The city demands attention, planning, and awareness — and I actually like that. It’s a place that makes you respect structure, because without it, the day gets away from you quickly.
Midweek, I shared a long-form post on how I train shoulders. Delts are one of the easiest muscle groups to train poorly, especially when ego gets involved. That post was about how I manage load, range of motion, and intensity so the shoulders keep growing without unnecessary wear and tear. Nothing flashy — just what’s worked for me over time.
The week ended with two quieter moments. Throwback Thursday went back to Spain in 2023 — saltwater, stillness, and the kind of recovery you don’t rush.
And Friday Flex: Stay Loose was a reminder that staying mobile isn’t optional. Stretching, movement, and taking care of how your body feels day to day matters just as much as the sets you log.
That was the week. Nothing too fancy — just showing up, making subtle adjustments, and keeping things moving in the right direction.
More coming next week — including why I view headphones as a critical piece of training equipment, a Tuesday Travelogue from a historic spot in California, why I train like a professional, not an influencer, and of course a dose of motivating photos.
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