How long is a roid cycle

People who work in industries where muscle strength is important — such as security workers, police, construction workers and defence force staff. Young people and adults who are concerned about their body image and want to look muscular to feel good.

This may include people who work in the fashion and entertainment industries. Testosterone has two effects on your body: anabolic — maintains bone density, supports muscle growth and speeds up recovery from injury androgenic also known as masculinising — develops and maintains male characteristics such as the penis, testicles, muscle mass, deep voice and facial hair. How anabolic steroids affect the body People who use anabolic steroids generally experience an increase in muscle strength very quickly.

This can often lead to rapid increases in lean muscle tissue. Fluid retention is also common and can lead to muscles looking soft or bloated. Side effects of anabolic steroids The effects of anabolic steroid use can differ from person to person.

Some people may experience: fluid retention also called water retention or oedema difficulty sleeping damage to nerves from injecting steroids irritability, mood swings, aggression or depression increased sex drive libido skin changes — acne that results in scarring more colds. Men may experience: testicle and penis shrinkage reduced sperm count erectile dysfunction or impotence prostate problems gynaecomastia breast development baldness patterned hair loss involuntary and long-lasting erection.

Women may experience: irregular menstrual cycle or loss of periods amenorrhoea shrunken breasts deepened voice facial and body hair growth such as hirsutism abnormal growth of the clitoris. Long-term effects of anabolic steroids Anabolic steroids can produce many unpleasant and often permanent side effects, including: damage to the gonads testicles or ovaries liver disease malfunctions of the kidneys , liver or heart 'roid rage', which is characterised by uncontrollable outbursts of psychotic aggression paranoia and mood swings, including deep depression severe acne , which can cause scarring high blood cholesterol levels high blood pressure hypertension injuries to tendons that can't keep up with the increased muscle strength delusional feelings of being superhuman or invincible.

Trembling and muscle tremors. Mixing anabolic steroids with other drugs A person who is using anabolic steroids may turn to other supplementary drugs. Some of these other drugs may include: amphetamines — to counteract feelings of deep depression and aid in fat loss beta blockers — to counteract trembling diuretics — to counteract fluid retention human growth hormone — such as human chorionic gonadotrophin HCG to stimulate the body's natural production of testosterone and counteract testicle shrinkage.

Dependence on anabolic steroids Anabolic steroids do not cause physical dependence. Withdrawal from anabolic steroids It can take up to 4 months to restore natural testosterone levels after being on anabolic steroids for a long time. Withdrawal symptoms from steroids can include: fatigue weight loss due to lowered appetite decreased strength depression. Treatment for anabolic steroid addiction Treatment options for drug dependence or addiction may include: detoxification individual counselling group therapy.

Peer support — or talking to someone who has been in the same situation — can also be helpful. Anabolic steroid use and the law In Australia, laws and penalties vary on anabolic steroid use among states and territories. Positive tests can result in fines, suspensions or permanent bans.

Anabolic steroids , Alcohol and Drug Foundation Steroid use: What are the real health and social impacts? Give feedback about this page. Was this page helpful? Yes No. View all drugs. At the beginning of a cycle, the person starts with low doses of the drugs being stacked and then slowly increases the doses.

In the second half of the cycle, the doses are slowly decreased to zero. This is sometimes followed by a second cycle in which the person continues to train but without drugs. Steroid users believe that pyramiding allows the body time to adjust to the high doses, and the drug-free cycle allows the body's hormonal system time to recuperate. National Institutes of Health. It seemed impossible - this only happens in extreme cases. My own perceived bulge wasn't altogether solid, sort of mushy, but as I smoothed my fingers across my forehead I had this terrifying sense that my bone structure had been somehow altered.

This was the primary fear I ran up against: were these changes happening, and would they subside once I quit 'roiding, or were they permanent? I could handle rampant hair loss, a caveman head, shrunken testicles, hell, even tits - so long as it was temporary. But what if it wasn't?

My sixth injection goes badly. I've been shooting my gluteus and while it's relatively painless the skin has gone tight and I'm thinking the oil hasn't quite dissolved. I elect to stick it in my thigh instead. I get the needle in three-quarters of an inch before I hit a major nerve. My leg bucks uncontrollably, knee nearly striking my forehead. It takes a few minutes for the pain to subside. Blood leaks from the puncture wound down my leg. I decide I'm not a fan of thigh injections.

So I try my calf. Sitting cross-legged, ankle propped on knee, I push the needle in. It goes in easy enough but when I aspirate the syringe fills with blood: I've hit a vein. I wipe the needle with rubbing alcohol and try another spot: again, blood. I boot the excess onto a paper towel, plug a fresh needle onto the syringe, and try again: more blood.

It is coming out of my thigh and now from a triangle of holes in my calf. What, am I all veins? I end up back at my glutes. But I soon regret it: I feel a perfect bubble of oil the size of a pearl onion an inch under my skin. When I massage it the bubble wobbles under my fingertips, all of one piece. It's still there come night time: in bed, I roll onto my side and feel it pressed against my hipbone, solid as a ball bearing. Like the princess with a pea, I have a hard time sleeping.

To embark on a steroid cycle is to devote yourself to rituals. Wake up, eat, medicate, work out, eat, work out, eat, medicate, sleep. Repeat daily for 16 weeks. Eating becomes a ritual. To maximise muscle growth you must eat one gram of protein for each pound of your weight per day. But I pushed my target further, to around 1. Consider that a great source of natural protein - a can of tuna - has 13g of protein.

That means I'd have to eat 25 cans a day. The most I ever managed was 20, forking it straight from the can. Please believe me when I tell you it is sheer lunacy to eat 20 cans of tuna. Eventually I settle on six cans a day, supplemented with five to six protein shakes.

I go through four 2. I keep shovelling a limited range of foodstuffs - tuna, bananas, egg whites, boiled chicken breasts - into my mouth with the listless motions of an automaton.

Thankfully the Equipoise, developed to increase lean body weight appetite in horses, gives my appetite a much-needed boost. Injections become a ritual. Run the vials under hot water to warm the oil. Unwrap a fresh syringe. Draw 1cc Equipoise, followed by 1. Tap the syringe to release air bubbles, push the plunger until a tiny bead forms at the pin-tip. Swab the injection site with alcohol and inject s-l-o-o-o-w, massaging so the oil soaks in. It isn't much different from the way a heroin addict goes about things: mix the drugs, prepare the needle, find a clean injection site.

I reached a point where the careful steps and resultant anticipation became as heady as the rush itself. Those last few weeks, I couldn't stop shaking as I prepared the needle. The workout becomes a ritual. If the gym is a temple of the body, I went from casual worshipper to fanatical zealot. I pushed myself and found I possessed limits beyond all reckoning.

But I'd push myself past the limit, too - twice I caught the smell of ozone, saw awful stars flitting before my eyes, and came to sprawled on the gym carpet.

I'd lift until my arms hung like dead things from my shoulders. I took post-workout naps in the changing room, spread out on a bench, too exhausted to walk home. The prostate is an organ I associate with old men. Surgical-gloved fingers. Not, in any way, an organ I should be aware of.

And yet I was, because the benign little organ had swollen to the point where it felt like a fist-sized balloon pressed against my testicles. This is a fairly common side-effect; some professional bodybuilders get prostatitis to such an extent they require a catheter. I was urinating 15 times a day. A swollen prostate cramps the urethral tube, making it torture to pee.

It also presses against the bladder, making it feel as if you always need to pee, even if there's nothing to pass: I stood over the toilet for five minutes, coaxing, cajoling, only to produce a squirt. My urine took on a disturbingly rich hue, like cask-aged brandy. I heard that 'vigorous manual relief' helped ease prostate pain. But when I tried this, it felt as though the pipe connecting the sperm factory to its exit had been clothes-pegged: nothing much comes out, and the little that does looks embarrassed to be there.

The key was continual application. I became obsessed with manual relief. Four times a day I was manually relieving myself. All that testosterone in my system, it didn't take much to get the motor humming. I was relieving myself to photos of muscle-bound woman gracing tubs of protein powder. I even relieved myself to a perfume sample in a magazine; I relieved myself to a smell - vigorously so! Wake up, eat, jerk off, work out, eat, jerk off, eat, work out, eat, jerk off, eat, sleep.

The question most sane readers will be asking by this point is: why didn't he stop? Why, despite all the awful side-effects, did he keep plugging needles into himself? I'm sure my answer is no different to that given by most steroid users: the results. Once we pass that period of massive physical change - childhood through our teens, puberty and growth spurts - we settle into a sense of our bodies. We understand the parameters and capabilities, what it can and cannot do.

And though it's disheartening to say, at 30, I was already finding evidence of a body on its downslope. While I worked out regularly, I hadn't made a sizeable gain in years. In gym parlance, I'd 'hit the plateau'. Steroids shattered the limitations of my body.

I first sensed their effects while bench-pressing dumbbells. I usually peak at 85lb each, or lb total. But after 10 repetitions with the 85s I was stunned: it felt like a warm-up! With a degree of trepidation - we're talking weights that, if mishandled, could break a wrist or some ribs - I picked up the pounders, which I'd never attempted. They went up easily and I ripped out 10 reps. It was an out-of-body sensation: somebody else's arms were pushing those weights, someone else's pectorals flexing and contracting.

I went up to lb dumbbells - benching roughly my own body weight. I'd been locked at lb for two years and now, in the course of a single workout, I'd shot up 30lb. My workout weights rocketed across the board. I was doing wide-grip chin-ups with a 35lb plate strapped to my waist; shoulder-pressing 75lb dumbbells; slapping 45lb plates on the biceps bar to curl lb.

I was bottoming out Nautilus machines, lifting their maximum weights. My body exploded, lb to lb in the space of a few weeks - in 'roider vernacular I'd 'swallowed the air hose'. I became a huffer, a puffer, a grunter, a screamer. Anyone who frequents gyms has seen those guys who make ungodly noises while throwing huge masses of weight around.

I'd always found these displays childish and tended to look away, as I would from a toddler having a tantrum in a supermarket. So imagine my surprise to find myself bellowing, shrieking and groaning.

It was like a silverback gorilla's mating ritual: I wanted to be seen lifting, wanted everyone to know I was the biggest, toughest motherfucker in the gym. I'm a big boy! It was pathetic and I should have known better - actually I did know better, but I didn't let that stop me. The 'pumps' I'd get after a workout clouded all judgment. My glances at the gym mirrors were at first baffled: 'Is that me? I noticed how light played differently upon my chest and arms, the pockets of blue shadow filling my new contours.

The thing is, I knew it was all fake. I hadn't earned it; it was actually quite freakish. But it's like a woman with giant fake breasts: everyone knows they're fake, but damn it if they don't still draw attention.

That oil I shot into my hip weeks ago had not dissolved. The deep pain convinced me I'd developed an abscess. In effect, I've got a pouch of month-old oil inside my hip, walled off by my immune system.

If I'm lucky it's sterile, but if not it is infected, the surrounding tissue gone necrotic. I decide to drain it myself by injecting an empty needle and drawing out the stale oil. My hope is it's still liquid; if it's congealed and lard-like, I'll need medical attention.

The needle sunk into the pocket of infected tissue.