My TP schedule for the week generally comes through very early on Monday morning. Since I didn’t know what was on tap for today when I went to bed last night, I slept in a little and checked it when I got up at 7:30. This has got to be some kind of cruel joke:
Don’t quite know what you’re looking at? I’ll help! In the top left corner of the screenshot, you will see the word “bike.” Just a bit to the right and a little above the word “bike,” you will see the description, “trainer or wind.” If you keep reading, it gets better. See the description of my workout? No? Here, I’ve enlarged it for you.
The post-activity comments are blank because, well duh, I have not completed the activity yet. But I can already tell you what I’m planning to write: “I f*cking hate you.” And I don’t know if the you I’m thinking I might direct that nastiness towards is myself or the person who loads these schedules or the wind itself; the very forces of nature that contributed to my inability to rise from the sofa for nearly six hours yesterday.
I don’t have access to a trainer, so that means I have to get back on my bike today and go find more wind. I know that I should just get dressed and get back out there. But I’m finding it extremely difficult to motivate after the brick from hell. So I’m struggling with this dilemma: do I just suck it up, get on the bike, get the workout in and breakthrough this reticence; maybe have an amazing workout? Or do I back off, just do my by 20 minute recovery run and then go to yoga later? My fear is that I am on the verge of total burn out. And I don’t want to burn out. I want to fan the flames.
When you’re involved with this kind of training, there will be challenging, wall-hitting moments and it is in those moments that you learn exactly what kind of athlete you are. Sit back, learn nothing. Break through, learn everything. This is how it went with boxing. So many nights, after working a ten-hour shift at the big bank, all I wanted to do was go home and go to sleep. But I’d lug myself and my gear to the gym where wind wasn’t the problem. Five, six, seven, eight rounds of hard sparring. With two or three different boxers. Just to mix things up. Feeling good against the girl ten pounds lighter? Here’s some body shots with the girl twenty pounds heavier. Sometimes I did well, sometimes I ended up in the locker room near tears. But every one of those training sessions made me a better fighter.