Diarrhea day two. I rack my brains as to the cause. Have I eaten something? No. Diet the same and has not changed. In which case, was the rice OK? Was the chicken OK? My wife has eaten it. She is fine. So it's not that. I push on. Take Oliver to football training. Sit in the car and go through my online check-ins with clients. Georgia Currie, a PT in our gym, has made stunning progress in just 12 weeks. Hips down, midsection very lean. Abs on show. Quads slimmer. No extreme dieting, either. Just a sustainable plan and monitored, adjusted cardio. Charlotte Gerrett too. The assistant manager, soon to be spreading her wings and leaving for pastures new. Lower body much trimmer, upper body definition. Both should be very proud of what they have achieved. I know I am very proud of them. Some clients, however, forget to check-in. It is no coincidence that the ones who never forget a check-in are the ones who get results.
Match day is always the first and pretty much only thing on my mind on Sundays. My son's football always takes precedence. Another strong game for the big man. Man of the match continues to be a strange decision but I stress to him that we no longer need this external validation. We strive to put in a man-of-the-match display each and every match and if others choose to recognise this fine. But if we can self-assess afterwards and ask if we could have done any more, then we have done all we can do. I'm trying to build his mental and emotional strength. Two more online check-ins today, plus some writing for my websites. Oh and diarrhea day three. Diet remains at baseline amount of 1900 calories. It's been a week and a bit on this now. Things are fine. Hungry-ish but nothing I cannot manage. I notice that my face is coming in even more now, though. And I didn't think that was possible.
Diarrhea day four. I feel rough today. I feel ill. I have a client at 8.30am, then a 10-2 shift. Training after. I honestly believe I'm going to struggle to do all this. I have an interview tomorrow for an assistant manager role at Thurrock and still need to put together a plan for my first 30 days and a SWOT analysis. But my printer needs ink. Something else I need to worry about while nursing a bad tummy. It is distended on occasion; swollen, as if sore. And the diarrhea shows no signs of stopping. I choose to take a rest from training and end up having to leave a few hours early because I am so ill. I take half a day's holiday so I still get paid.
Diarrhea day five. No idea what is causing this. I check in again early doors. Two more days of baseline diet. I'm super light, super lean and have a face like death. And a tummy to boot. My interview is at 11.30am. Then a client at 1pm. Then I will try to train legs for the last time ahead of the PCA British Finals. Advice from Nathan "light pump session only". I message back "understood". I get through the day, then have Oliver's football training in the evening. I also change my posing routine music for something slower. But right now I just don't have the energy to practice it.
Client at 9.30am. Train a push session. Then shift 12-4. Have to see a mate immediately after, then pick up dog food. I don't get home till 7.30pm. And it's diarrhea day six. Something is seriously wrong.
Diarrhea day seven. It has now gone nuts. By early morning, I've been close to eight times. I feel like I'm in real trouble now. I check-in. I'm very light. Almost half a stone down from the PCA Masters less than two weeks ago. Nathan messages back: "I was really hoping it would have cleared up by now. Do you think you can handle more food going in today?" We are supposed to be starting our carb load for the Brits. I reply: "I can handle more food. I'll just push through."
I have a client at noon, a pull session planned, then a 2-6 shift. I sit at home wondering how the hell I am going to go in today. It is that bad. I feel very ill.
First meal is 100g rice pudding 50g whey, 20g honey, 10g dark chocolate. No issues. I eat again before I leave: 300g rice, 150g chicken breast, 100g green veg, 30g raisins, 10g honey. Again, no issues. I get through my PT client without issue. Training a different story. I struggle Long breaks. I can't seem to manage it. It is a very light workout.
Midway through my shift my tummy starts to hurt. I'm almost bent double as I tidy weights away. Some members are asking if I'm OK. I end up going to the locker room. I crouch down as the pain courses through me. I'm in agony. So much so, I'm calling out in pain. As I'm crouched on the floor, my colleague, PT and boxing trainer Vasil Pilarski, comes in. He's immediately concerned. Tells me to take deep breaths, then goes to fetch a mat and returns telling me to lie down. The pain dissipates somewhat. He stays with me, checking if I'm OK. I text Laura to come get me. No way I can drive home. I can barely move. I'm three days out from the PCA British Finals.
I get straight into bed once home. We call 111. They promise a call back within two hours. It gets to 11pm – several hours and countless trips to the toilet later – and still nothing.
I'm up several times in the night as water continues to cascade through me. I'm in real trouble. Two days out from the PCA British Finals and I have no idea what is wrong with me. I use the toilet so many times I actually lose count. My tummy is gurgling like something from a deep sea horror movie. I do an eConsult and get a GP appointment for 11.20am. I check-in, somehow managing to do my photos. Nathan messages: "I know it's not ideal but you still look crazy." All I can see is that I am now a prep lightest, having lost almost 3lbs overnight through constant diarrhea and only managing four of my five meals. I see John Yousseff, an Over 45 competitor, on insta saying how his first carb loading day saw him nine lbs up. And here I am losing weight.
GP says he can't do anything. Can't give antibiotics. Nothing. Just monitor. This is not what I had hoped for. I wanted it gone. Yesterday.
Food, however, I can still manage. We increase Meal 2 to 140g rice pudding, 50g whey, 10g peanut butter, 10g dark chocolate, 100g banana and 30g honey. Goes down a treat. I return to taking Imodium Plus and a heavy dose of hope.
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