Episode 2 of Gary Chappell's prep diary picks up in the final stretch before his return to the stage – peak week loading, a reflection on a life-changing CPAP diagnosis and the ordinary chaos of parenting, work and stress that doesn't pause just because show day is close.
I pad downstairs in my shimmering posing trunks. Let the dogs out. Return to the kitchen. Weigh myself. Set up my phone against my daughter's pink Stanley Cup and go through my mandatory poses for updated pics. Then I go outside and do the same in natural lights. A few minutes pass and my phone lights up. Plans for the day drop from Nathan. More food. The final week loading phase begins. We are going to do it slowly for more control over the look. I hear a lot of this phrase recently and it finally starts to resonate. Weight? To a degree, you can forget it. Strength? Irrelevant. The look? Everything matters. How do you look? Big? In proportion? Ripped? Dry [no extracellular water that blurs the lines]. The look is everything. A banging look can beat a monster bodybuilder who lacks condition. Food is high today. Not as high as the high days we have had over the past couple of days, but high enough to shed the zombie feeling and start breathing some life back into this once human being. Was promised I'd hear about that job today. Silence.
The morning routine begins again. Pad downstairs in posing trunks. Dogs out. Weight. Pics inside. Pics outside. One litre of water. 22 health tablets. Greens drink. All before Meal 1 - a meal I have no idea of until plans drop for the day based on this morning's look. More food going in. Perfect. Pics wanted post workout too. The accessible toilet in my gym is my new favourite haunt. The pics of my most muscular are starting to impress me – me of all people. An eternally grumpy 50 year old cynic who can find faults in almost anything. I feel more like a human being than I have in weeks. Busy night. Football training earlier than normal for my youngest. Dinner needs doing for daughter beforehand, dogs need taking out. I hate rushing. Still not heard about the job. I get home roughly 8pm to an overwhelmingly positive email that says I'm ready for the new role and my interview was superb. But they have given the job to someone else. Back to square one.
I'm going to start referring to sections of my life as 'BC' – before CPAP. Been treated since October 2025. At this point in time – BC – I was constantly tired. I'd wake feeling rough, drop kids at school, crash on sofa in darkness. Now I can wake at 6.15am perfectly fine. I could never dream of doing that in my life BC. It really is a biblical change. Morning routine takes place. Plans drop. More food. What a week! I am a fully paid up member of the human race again. Cardio - which was not high anyway – now coming down to 10mins. Pics in the best bog in Thurrock just keep getting better; I am skinned but bursting full. Son has second school football trial after getting through the first hurdle. He's upset coming out. Said it didn't go well and wasn't called over. I calm him down and say they already know your name so why would they call you over to ask it again. He's good enough to get in and that's not just because I'm his dad. He finds out Friday but as a parent it's another thing to worry about on top of everything else.
Two days out. I now fully appreciate the phrase 'the look'. My bog pic today is banging. It is arguably the best version of me I have seen since I started competing as a Masters seven years ago. I look enormous; full, ripped, veins running across my body like an AA route planner. I'm happy. I reflect on the past 11 weeks. Taking on a coach was difficult at first. I'd coached myself for the last eight or so shows. 14 in total self-coached from 20 outings. But I finally learned to hand over the reigns. I realise now its merits; he worries about the fine details of what to do with my physique, leaving me to stress over other things! I'm not sitting here two days out wondering how much water I should drink or not drink, whether I should push more food or pull back. Nathan does the thinking and the worrying. I just execute. It is working well. I am more relaxed. And I look good.
One day out. Up earlier than normal because I start work early. Nathan is happy with morning pics. He posts before and after on his socials showing the 12-week difference from when I first reached out. I cannot remember looking that bad. We pull back slightly on food just a touch for the final day but it remains high in comparison to baseline diet. I feel washed out today though. Excessively tired. Today is also the day my son finds out whether he's in the school football team. I'm stressing more about that than anything else. Then it occurs to me that I brought in a coach so I would not have to stress about my own decisions surrounding my physique – leaving me free to stress about any other subject I choose! I collect the kids from school and it turns out the teachers have not put up the final list as they promised they would. So we have to wait until Monday at least to find out. We drive to Wolverhampton and the urge to urinate extends the journey time as I need to stop at a services. We arrive at the Airbnb about 8pm. I need to relax. I'm clearly not as comfortable as I need to be. Not sure why. With tanning at 9am tomorrow I put clear nail varnish on to avoid that brown staining which makes me look like I've been smoking 40 a day all my life...
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