This has been a rough week for exercise. I took Monday off to rest, and Tuesday had crazy rain and wind advisories and all over misery, so I put the morning run off... and off... and off... and you know the rest. Tuesday night was the worst night of sleep I've had in months, and Wednesday I was at work from literally 8am until 8pm. This morning I woke up at 6am and my body resolutely said, "NO." I had a stiff neck, sore legs, and two adorable animals curled up one on either side of me. I went back to sleep until 9 and dragged myself into work with a promise that I'd go work out later tonight.
It happens. I'm trying to shrug it off. My only frustration is that I called my gym to get added to the list for tonight's spinning class, and by 9am the list - and wait list - were already full. The New Year's resolution people are not giving up this year as quickly as I'd like them to. That condemns me to a treadmill tonight, assuming I don't bail on it. No! No!
Speaking of my gym, I had the most annoying experience last week. Meeting my running partner requires 30 minutes on the bus/subway. Then 30 minutes home to shower, then 30 minutes back downtown to work. All in all, essentially a 90 minute commute for a 3.5m run. Well, I thought to myself, why not drop my stuff at a branch of my gym before the run, then shower and pick up my stuff and head directly to work after? That would save me copious time. Except that, with a crazy smile, the guy at the gym told me I would be billed $7.50 each time I did that for using a gym that wasn't my "home gym" during peak-hours. Even to drop my stuff off in a locker and not use the equipment. Stupid rules.
But - I've added a new race for February! A 10 mile race in hilly Prospect Park. I did a 5m Turkey Trot there, and the race was excellent, although the hills were long. But fun! I can't fear the hills, given Mt. Washington looming over me...
This race makes me a tad nervous because it's a 10 mile race and a 3-person relay. Translated, I predict that to mean that the percentage of runners beating me will increase from roughly 80% to roughly, um, like 95%. As long as I'm not dead last - that should be my new motto.
On I went, out of the wood, passing the man leading without knowing I was going to do so. Flip-flap, flip-flap, jog-trot, jog-trot, curnchslap-crunchslap, across the middle of a broad field again, rhythmically running in my greyhound effortless fashion, knowing I had won the race though it wasn't half over, won it if I wanted it, could go on for ten or fifteen or twenty miles if I had to and drop dead at the finish of it, which would be the same, in the end, as living an honest life like the governor wanted me to. -Alan Sillitoe, "Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner"