 |
| The prospect is bleak: pull self together |
Day 170
Moaning Minnie
Weary lassitude hung about me, even before I'd extracted bike from shed and ridden the five or so miles to this week's workplace. Paid work is something to be grateful for, but all I can feel is exasperation with the writers responsible for the cliche-heavy text I have to sub. How many times do I see the words 'iconic' 'hip' 'featuring' in a day's march. The other thing, of course, is the lack of march in the day. Hip flexors ache from the endless sitting, boredom equals biscuits, sick building fatigue convinces me I'm too tired to do any strength training.
So today was two bike rides either end of seven hours' screen gawping. To make matters worse, I receive an email from one of the star runners in my club, who's crying off a drinks social tomorrow, as she is doing everything she can to taper and rest with care so that she can have every chance of scoring her first sub-three-hour marathon. She is the apotheosis of discipline and determination, but her message makes me feel even worse. My lack of preparation and foresight means I make a mockery of precious training time. I will have no-one to blame but myself.
No comments:
Post a Comment