What the buck?

RSD 62

I really wasn’t feeling it today. It was a long week of padel classes (taking) and the end of a longish 3 weeks of intensive English classes (giving) and I had pushed myself at Cool Cycling during the afternoon.

And today was intervals, which means sprints when training with Rochelle.

It was only a half-hour workout. I knew I could do it, but I just didn’t want to. I thought about swapping out today for a one-and-done. #keepthestreakalive

“Bob,” I said to myself. “It’s day fucking three of a 14-week haul and it’s way too early to start swapping out the plan.”

“I know, I know. I’ll do something more than a mile, and if I don’t I’ll make myself do something humiliating.”

“Like give Ted Cruz a blow job?”

“I said humiliating, not satanically soul-destroying.”

These are the conversations I have with myself.

So intervals it was.

I waited for the sun to go down, which usually means less beach traffic, but it was packed out there and I was like “wtf? Is there a festival in my front yard I didn’t get a memo about?”

Then I remembered today is “chase the moon” (I did NOT have 6.7 miles in me today … well, I did, but that’s above and beyond) and this month’s fullness is a buck moon” so really it’s not wtf, but wtb.

Before I knew it, the sprints were done and I was sitting on the wall of the pier, watching kids make themselves sickeningly dizzy and then chase each other through the sand. In my day we just took quaaludes.

I survived the sprints. My pace may not have been the most even, but I gave all I could during each one. It might not have been as much as I had to give in other runs. It wasn’t as much as I’ll have to give as the program makes me stronger (and the 10k program has proven that it will).

Two takeaways:

  1. Just because you don’t want to do it doesn’t mean it’s not doable. You’ll feel better for having tried than for bargaining your way out of it. (Ted Cruz loses again)
  2. There is no need to double up and kill yourself at spin on sprint days.

As I sit here on the pier writing this, under the full / blood / buck moon, I don’t feel the least bit guilty about the pizza diavolo I’m eating I’ve earned nor the second copa de vino tinto I’m about to order.

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