I went out last night and awoke this morning feeling like I'd been run over by a truck. Repeatedly. Not because of some drunken bender, though I did partake of a few drinks, but because of yesterday's lack of a workout. I walked from my house to the far end of the Marina, a nice little jaunt of about three miles along Union St., which included a really nice hill workout. Then I sat in the salon for an hour or so, having my hair done and chatting with the other patrons. After my super haircut, I returned to the Presidio bus stop by way of Chestnut St., another long walk but mostly flat. And then I didn't stretch. And now my ass and calves hurt.
I wanted to get to the gym yesterday. I wanted to stretch and swim and linger in the hot tub for a few minutes. But I also absolutely dreaded any additional physical activity, so I stayed home. This morning I had to force myself into gym clothes, but I knew I'd feel better if I stretched out a little. I forced myself off the couch, and promised I'd just walk and stretch, and be in the hot tub within half an hour.
But once I got there, I spent 45 very enjoyable minutes in the gym before hitting the water. And I'm feeling much better now.
I know I'm tired and emotionally exhausted. I know my body is really still recovering from the Grand Canyon. I know I just need some time to really heal. But I feel like a slug when I sit on the couch; I'm also not too excited to hit the pool. So today I decided I need to be officially gearing up to train for something, and it looks like there are two events on the horizon: Half Dome in September, and the Bridge-to-Bridge race in October. I'm walking a 7 K or 12 K (I haven't decided yet), and after mentioning it to a few people, I now have a team. And maybe team t-shirts are in the future.
Put This in Your Ears, Update
2 hours ago