Sleep has been disrupted four or five times because I'm up to the toilet with more water flowing through me than the Trevi Fountain. Yesterday we put in 100g asparagus in four of five meals and 1g of vitamin C per meal. No Peak Max this time either but we wanted to be a touch sharper, because the PCA lean towards condition over anything else. I've dropped more water with this protocol than anything, but I am still nice and full.
We arrive at the venue, Connexin Live in Hull, early. I have to urinate in a plastic cup after parking my car because I'll never make it to the toilet in time. The glamour is never far away in bodybuilding.
I meet lots of friendly faces – competitors in my class and in other classes – as the build-up begins. One thing that always stands out to me at bodybuilding competitions is the mutual respect and camaraderie among competitors.
My coach, Nathan Smart (above), is in attendance for this one. He has a look at me. Everything is on point. We agree to hit the pre-stage pump up a little harder to close the gap to my post-workout look, the one that has me in the best bog in Thurrock. He gives me some of his Engineered Muscle Turbo Pump supplement, which I sip while flogging myself with bands backstage, in between a few trips to the toilet, of course.
On stage I get moved. I look down. The tape to mark the competitor line is in a cross. I'm in the middle. Good sign. Former England captain and World Cup winner Phil Vickery (below, right) is in my class. I mention it to the PCA MC who says he recognised the name. As Phil finishes his routine, the PCA MC gives him a congratulatory message. The rest of us walk back on stage for our posedown, all shaking his hand as we return. I take the victory - three from three. The feeling of winning never gets old. Phil is very complimentary about my physique, which feels surreal given his stature.
We hang around another five hours for the overall, drip-feeding four rice cakes, 80g chicken and 15g honey twice, all with just sips of water now, having already put in 2.5 litres. I believe I have a genuine shot at the overall. Indeed, it is close. I am convinced I have it. It goes to the brilliant Over 40 winner Zack Gibson. Top bloke and who has a very similar shape to me. He wins his PCA Pro Card. I have to wait for my chance to win mine at the PCA British in two weeks.
Laura, thankfully, did the four-hour drive home. I had an off-plan meal at a services on the way - the first since May. We are up early and standing at Oliver's football match by 9.15am. He scores. That's another fiver for Robux. I give him another pep talk.
Watching the overall video back Zack is a touch sharper than me. He deserved the overall. Nathan messages: "We won't miss next time."
I have another shot at an AGM job. Thurrock branch, where I work as a PT/FC, is becoming available. I'm told to apply but temper my expectations. From yesterday, I'm back to baseline diet; 1900 calories. Cardio is back in, this time a modest 20min. Steps at 10k. This will remain for the next few days as for the first time in three weeks we do not have a show this weekend. The PCA Brits is next on October 18.
The school texts. Now my daughter has a detention. She's not had one in the three years she's been there. I send a reply; not in my time she isn't. In yours. We receive a lengthy email from a teacher which is very intimidating and aggressive. It gives me an insight into what this place is really like. The school’s reply was blunt: no debate, no parental input and, if I didn’t like it, I could take it up with Ofsted. In other words; 'you will comply. If you don't like it, bring it on'. All additional stress none of us in the house need, nor asked for. More stuff I have to deal with while preparing for a British finals.
The email tirade with the school continues. I'm calm. In control. Purely because I wasn't making a request. I was telling them what would happen. I'm also no longer interested in anything they have to say. I consider pulling them out of the school system entirely, moving further afield to clear the mortgage and therefore setting up an easier financial situation whereby I can homeschool the children.
I have a disagreement in the gym. I ask how many sets someone has left, while with a PT client. "I've just started," they say. OK, but how many sets do you have? "I've just told you I just started," she shoots back. We walk away and do something else, realising quickly we would have more success howling into the void.
With the baseline diet returning, so does the need to prep spend. I buy two cheap games for my Steam Deck totalling a tenner. They will no doubt sit in my library unplayed for months. Honestly, I think it is the act of spending which is better than doing anything with the things you actually buy.
I stumble upon a YouTube video analysing the PCA Masters. I'm in it. My ego is massaged nicely. "Look at this guy!" "Gary just needs more back" is ringing in my ears. But it's a positive assessment.
Last day of baseline diet before a brief top up tomorrow with a high day. Face is really starting to come in now, even more than it has been. Feeling in a good spot though. Cruising in. I have no idea of what is about to come...
High day drops. Good deal of food here. Meal 1, for example, is 175g rice pudding [Hydrorice from Engineered Muscle], 50g whey, 30g honey, 10g dark chocolate. Meal 2 is 300g basmati rice [cooked weight], 150g cooked chicken breast, 30g raisins, 20g honey, 100g green veg and four rice cakes. I swap meals 1 and 2 purely because I'm waiting for my delivery. Midway through 175g hydrorice I start to feel like I can't finish it. Still, I do. I go to train about 3pm, two meals in. But when I arrive I'm feeling off. I'm flagging pretty quickly during training; back with some arms to push carbs in specific places. I'm taking longer and longer between sets. I feel rough. Energy tanks. I message Nathan about whether cardio is still required because I feel I'm about to puke any second. It is. I get through the work out somehow but I'm not right. I feel ill. I do my post-workout pics but need to take a long rest in between each one. This is not like me. God only knows how I manage to drive home. I slump on sofa. Stomach all over the place. Laura checks my blood sugar. It's super low. I eat four rice cakes but cannot manage the rest of meal 3. She checks it again before I'm allowed to fall asleep. Upon waking about an hour later, I take myself to bed. I've clearly got some sort of tummy bug. Stomach is upset and I'm belching large clumps of air. Not pleasant. Eight days out I'm bed ridden from 5pm. Temperature slightly raised too. In eight days, I go for a PCA British title and my PCA Pro Card. This is not a good spot to be in.
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