FrontDouble founder and Masters bodybuilder Gary Chappell is heading back to the stage for the first time since 2024 – and documenting every high day, low day and missed blueberry muffin along the way. This is Episode 1 of an ongoing series following his prep all the way to his first European Mastersd in Milan in November as an Over 50s competitor, run alongside his coaching clients, his NPC regional, back-to-back shows across IBFA, 2Bros and PCA, his family and four cockapoos. No polish, no filter – just what actually happens.
Black coffee. chewing gum. sugar-free fizzy drinks. Maybe a sugar-free energy drink. The gap between meals is getting longer, harder. I'm now at the point of prep where i'm licking the bowl containing my last meal; 250g Greek yoghurt, 20g whey, 10g peanut butter, 10g dark chocolate. Not licking it with my tongue – I'm not an animal, you know. I'm clearly much more civilised. I run my finger around the inside of the bowl and lick my finger afterwards. I'm sitting here two weeks out from my first show since 2024. A few months ago, my season was over before it had begun. We [coach Nathan Smart and I] and decided to postpone it until 2027 following a wretched off-season blighted by sleep apnea and subsequent chronically high levels of haemoglobin and haematocit, caused by severe hypoxia. But after a successful health phase, my body responded so well that suddenly 2026 is back on the table. I will step into the Over 50s at the earliest possible opportunity, having hit that milestone is May.
The drained feeling of depletion sweeps through me. It's almost akin to boredom. Nothing to look forward to. Maybe this is the reason behind prep spending. A longing to have something to look forward to, so we bodybuilders buy stuff we don't actually need.
Entered first 2Bros show today. Almost fainted at the cost. £242 including tanning. I'd expect to be handed the Jules Rimet at this fee.
35 minutes until I can eat 125g rice, 150g chicken breast and 100g green veg.
High day. Weight and pics first thing out of bed. Posing trunks out of the wardrobe. Pics in the kitchen under inside light, then outside, photobombed by cockapoos sniffing the morning air. Mood so much better with more food going in, although my face seems to get more sunken on these higher carbs days. Can never understand why. Must be the body pulling water into the digestive system.
Another high day. Same macros as yesterday. Made legs easier, as if easy is ever a word to associate with legs. Still feel drained between meals. Face coming in even more.
9pm - I have just discovered I've missed a message that said "have a blueberry muffin pre-workout, post-workout and before bed". Jesus! What?! How the hell did I miss that?! Six muffins I've missed. I message Nathan. Conversation ends with me scrambling to local Tesco only to discover they don't have any muffins. I'm not going to Sainsbury's instead. It's late. I'm tired. Definitely not going to Sainsbury's.
I go to Sainsbury's. Two muffins before bed. Glory of bodybuilding.
Back to baseline diet 1900 cals. Cardio back in. Half way through the day and I'm back to feeling drained; depleted, needing chewing gum, coffee, something – anything. Find out my NPC regional is going to be the busiest of the season with at least 250 competitors. This does nothing for my confidence. I'm now creating make believe scenarios in my head over the next few hours and treating them like the true events. My son's Year 7 football trials three days into his first week at high school focuses my attention elsewhere. Good player. I believe in him. He should do well. Always a worry though when there are so many kids competing for so few spots. Collect him and he seems to have done well. I spend the rest of the evening preparing for a job interview tomorrow. I've never needed the money more in my entire life following my redundancy from national newspaper journalism in 2024.
I wake buzzing from yesterday's interview still. Quietly confident I'll get the job.
Brain fog, I remember you. I struggle to concentrate during training. Rest between sets seems to be getting longer. Maybe it isn't. Maybe I'm just bent over double staring at the floor for longer after I finish my set. What little personality I had is now draining from me. I've replaced the role my wife had made firmly her own by falling asleep in front of the TV early at night.
Officially one week out from my return to the stage for the first time since 2024. Coach messages to confirm check-in tomorrow. Assume this is where we start to plan for the week ahead. I hate the phrase 'peak week'. Some polishing can take place, yes. I'm competing every Saturday for the next three weeks; IBFA Night of Champions, 2Bros qualifier and the inaugural PCA Masters. At this point, you just want to get on stage. Death face is sharp now; cheeks and eyes sunken in. Toilet breaks infrequent as everything is being used, although urination flows more than the Trevi fountain. Carbs low for five days now since back-to-back high days. Back in the garden early doors tomorrow with nothing but my trusty shimmering posing trunks to assess where we're at. Online check-ins today with my clients, then some writing for my political substack News Uncut and, of course, FrontDouble.com. Both keep the mind from wandering.
I finish the day with my mind wandering...
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