This training lark. It’s just so unforgiving, isn’t it? No respite – not even for an oldie-going-mouldy like me. I mean, you’d think you’d get a little bit of compassion, wouldn’t you? But no! I take a couple of weeks off after finishing the third and final triathlon of my first season and, well, do you think I’m just a little bit behind? Have just a bit of catching up to do to get back to my fitness level of three weeks ago? Oh, no! All the way back to bloomin’ Square One! What a nightmare – and so unfair!
It took me forever to get there. It took me months of working out at increasingly hard levels. And in just three weeks it’s all been sucked out of me. Like an excited child hurriedly sucking up the end of his milkshake through a straw because he doesn’t want to be last in line for a go on the new trampoline. Yep! That’s how quickly my efforts have been drained away.
But hey ho! No time to keep whining and moaning endlessly about what’s not going to happen, eh? Just got to get out there and start again. I’m quite pleased, I suppose, that I realised the pointlessness this morning in saying ‘I’ll start Monday’. I mean, why Monday? Why not right now? Yes, I think that’s definitely one point for me! It’s a start at least, isn’t i?
I’m on my way! 40 minutes on the stepper and … well … I was planning on 20 mins of core afterwards but I felt so rubbish I thought I was going to throw up. Pathetic! But …
I’m on my way. Tomorrow will be better. It will. I know it will. Really! Honest!
(If I keep saying it, I might even begin to believe it or, even better, it might even be true?)
I’ll let you know.