11 Gigantic Muscle Building Mistakes I've Been Making (why I lost muscle)

Thomas details how true fasting signals the body to spare muscle via elevated ketones and other preservation mechanisms. Once you consume anything, insulin rises and those survival pathways shut down. The subsequent hours without food become a pure calorie deficit, which over repeated days can lead to significant muscle loss. He stresses that this is a common trap for busy people: they think a small protein hit like a shake or a meat stick 'keeps them fasted' or is harmless, but it actually creates the worst of both worlds—no protective fasting state and too few calories.

Thomas explains that his short 45-minute gym windows pushed him to perform strength exercises and jump rope intervals in the same session. Psychologically, he wanted to feel his heart rate high and sweat pouring to validate the workout. But the interference effect meant he couldn't lift heavy enough or push sets to failure. He calls it 'interference training' and notes that while it builds work capacity, it's suboptimal for muscle growth. His solution was to designate specific days: two days a week he still does the mixed style for cardiovascular conditioning and mental satisfaction, but the other days are purely resistance training to ensure he can focus on mechanical overload and failure.

Thomas dives into the behavioral psychology: when he grabbed a meat stick or shake, he mentally checked a box that he'd 'taken care of protein,' which made him feel okay about not preparing or consuming a real meal. Over hours, his daily caloric intake would plummet to insufficient levels, but the satiating effect of protein plus the mental rationalization masked the deficit. He emphasizes that he loves these products and doesn't blame them; the problem was his own laziness and psychological reliance. Once he reframed them as a planned part of his regimen—only to be used in a pinch—his calorie intake normalized and his gains returned.

Thomas has severe back issues and discovered that although Meloxicam allowed him to move better and lift with more range of motion, it came at the cost of blunted hypertrophy. He explains the evidence is strong that COX inhibition reduces the anabolic response to resistance training. So he now uses a multi-pronged approach: he applies a red light laser device (Kenyan Move Plus) directly to his spinal erectors and hip joints, penetrates deep tissue with 660 nm light, and has found remarkable improvements in spinal flexion and extension. He also takes curcumin, noting it's frustratingly underappreciated as an effective natural anti-inflammatory. He still keeps Meloxicam in his toolkit but is far more selective, ensuring it's not taken close to a workout.

Thomas reveals a psychological battle with creatine: every time he dosed high, he'd gain intramuscular water weight, which triggered body-image anxiety. He would see the scale go up or feel 'puffy' and immediately reduce or stop creatine, only to lose strength and then restart. This yo-yo pattern meant he never got the full chronic benefits. He eventually addressed this through therapy—including ketamine-assisted therapy and EMDR—to work through his body-image issues. Once he accepted the temporary water retention as a sign of muscle hydration, he committed to 10-15 grams daily without interruption. The water retention leveled out, and his strength stabilized. His story underscores how psychological barriers can sabotage an effective supplement.

Thomas explains his internal calculus: the perceived threat of microplastics led him to ditch his trusty plastic water jug and attempt to carry a glass jug, which was impractical with his lifestyle. Consequently, he simply drank much less water. Colleagues noticed his drawn, dehydrated appearance. He realized he was letting an orthorexic concern undermine a basic physiological need. While he still believes minimizing microplastics is wise, he now pragmatically uses plastic bottles when necessary and makes sure he drinks enough. He looks and performs better, which he considers the more important net positive. This is a practical, lived-experience lesson rather than a scientific one.

Thomas had a deep-seated carb phobia, especially at night, thinking the insulin spike would be detrimental. He noticed, however, that his sleep was poor and his recovery lagged. On a hunch, he added carbohydrates back into his evening meal and experienced noticeably better sleep, which he ascribes to the serotonin pathway. He didn't see a negative impact on body composition; in fact, his muscle growth and strength improved because he was recovering better. He emphasizes that the benefit wasn't from carbs directly building muscle, but from the downstream effect of improved sleep quality.

Thomas observed that his habit of simply eating less because he was busy put him in a constant mild deficit that eroded muscle over years. He advocates for what he calls 'eat a lot, aggressive deficit'—periods of high feeding to support muscle anabolism, interspersed with short, deep caloric cuts (like a 24-hour fast) that reduce the weekly average without chronically suppressing metabolic rate. He says this works better for him than always 'just going low.' He mentions it can net you a 3,000-calorie reduction in a single day, which is more efficient than daily restriction.

He draws a sharp distinction between true fasting and a low-calorie day. When you are in a clear fast, the body senses food scarcity and upregulates preservation processes that spare lean tissue. Ketones rise, and hormonal shifts protect muscle. But as soon as you ingest even a small amount of food, those survival adaptations switch off—the body no longer thinks it is in a famine and stops protecting muscle. If you then go another five or six hours without food, you are simply in a calorie deficit without the protective fasting environment. Thomas found himself repeatedly making this error: he'd eat a little protein to 'not overdo fasting,' then get absorbed in work and fail to eat again until evening, accumulating a huge daily deficit. By the end of the day he would try to compensate by overeating, which further disrupted his metabolism. The fix was to either commit to a full fasting window where he ingested nothing, or to commit to eating adequate calories throughout the day with proper meals. He frames this as a real-world psychological pitfall for busy people who think a small protein hit is harmless but actually undermines their muscle goals.

The psychological drive to feel his heart rate high and the constraint of short workout windows led Thomas to blend intense cardio with heavy lifts in nearly every session. He would go from deadlifts straight into jump rope intervals, convinced he was getting a 'great workout in a short amount of time.' However, he recognized this was building work capacity but not providing the specific muscular overload needed for hypertrophy. He could not take a set to true failure if he had to immediately transition to a run, and he could not give maximum force on a deadlift if he came from a breathless cardio burst. This interference effect undermined both his strength and muscle gains. His correction: he now allows only two days per week of that mixed training style, while the other days are devoted solely to resistance training or solely to cardio. He acknowledges that reining in the desire to always feel gassed was crucial.

Thomas describes a sneaky psychological phenomenon: the act of consuming a high-protein, low-calorie item like a meat stick or shake gave him a mental 'check mark' that he had taken care of his nutrition, enabling him to skip proper meals. A shake might have 150 calories and 25 g of protein; a meat stick, 11 g of protein and 350 mg sodium. He would have one and feel satisfied enough to delay eating for another 3–4 hours, essentially replacing a real meal with a tiny protein dose. Over weeks, this led to a consistent calorie deficit that was masked by the perception of having eaten. He clarifies he has nothing against these products—they are useful—but when they become meal replacements due to busyness or laziness, they undermine muscle growth. His correction was to designate them as planned supplements (e.g., a shake at a specific time of day or in a pinch when truly unable to eat) rather than default mini-meals. Once he made that shift, muscle and strength began returning.

NSAIDs like Meloxicam are non-selective COX inhibitors that shut down the cyclooxygenase enzymes responsible for producing prostaglandins, key mediators of inflammation and pain. While they let him move better and train harder acutely, the evidence he cites shows they blunt hypertrophy because the inflammatory response is a critical signal for muscle repair and growth. When you take NSAIDs around your workout, you dampen that signal and reduce the anabolic response. Thomas noticed he could train more comfortably but wasn't gaining the muscle he expected. He now uses NSAIDs selectively—only when absolutely necessary and timed far from training—but primarily manages inflammation through curcumin (which he says works well but is underappreciated) and localized red light therapy, especially a red light laser device called Kenyan Move Plus that penetrates deep into joints. He also uses standard 660 nm red light panels. This multi-modal approach lets him train without the hypertrophic cost of chronic NSAID use.

He works 60-70 hours a week and manages two young children, so carrying a glass jug everywhere was impractical, and he began to avoid drinking because he disliked plastic bottles. Over time, this led to a state of chronic dehydration. He describes that his intracellular muscle volume decreased, his lifts suffered, and people commented that his eyes looked 'drawn out'. He faced a trade-off: the potential harm of microplastic intake versus the definitive harm of dehydration on muscle performance and appearance. He concluded that the net benefit of being well-hydrated even with some microplastic exposure far outweighed the alternative. He now uses whatever vessel necessary to get enough water, accepting some microplastic intake as a lesser evil. He says he looks and feels better simply because he's hydrated again.

His fear of carbs at night was rooted in the belief that insulin spikes before bed would promote fat storage or disrupt hormonal health. However, he noticed his sleep was suboptimal and recovery was lagging. He reintroduced carbohydrates in the evening and experienced better sleep, which he attributes to a serotonin-mediated pathway: carbs facilitate tryptophan entry into the brain, increasing serotonin and subsequently melatonin, improving sleep architecture. Better sleep led to improved recovery and, counterintuitively, better muscle growth and strength—not because carbs directly build muscle, but because they enabled the restorative sleep that is essential for hypertrophy. He frames it as overcoming a psychological block that was undermining his progress.