Remember that time I was whining about having two rest days in a row a couple of weeks ago? Well, I did it again last week. And then finished the week off with a third lazy day. And I hated myself for it.
As if I need any help making excuses for my behavior (I don’t; making excuses is one of the few things at which I truly excel), on Sunday night Tim attempted to comfort me/make me stop bitching about how lazy I ended up being last week by reminding me how much our trip up Moosilauke the previous Sunday wiped me out. (Seriously guys, that hike was waaayyy harder than it should have been. When it was time to snowboard back down, I was so tired and my legs were so sore–and the snow was so soft and melty–that I pretty much just fell every 50 feet. It was so terrible that I had a
mini medium-sized meltdown about halfway back to the car.) Apparently, getting my ass kicked by nature for ten and a half miles is a good enough reason to just not bother for a week or so.
Although I probably shouldn’t say I didn’t bother. I did manage to do some stuff:
On Monday I went for an easy three mile walk with one of my co-workers, which was really nice.
On Tuesday, feeling mostly refreshed and having been told that it would be a slow one, I went for a run with the guys I normally run with at lunch. But it wasn’t slow. In fact, it was one of our fastest to date, so that was actually kind of awesome.
It snowed on Wednesday, so I worked from home and went snowboarding for a couple of hours with Tim…at which point I realized that my legs hated me and maybe I hadn’t fully recovered from our Moosilauke adventure yet.
I figured Thursday would be a good rest day, so I didn’t feel too bad about taking it off. But then Friday was like 4° and windy and I just couldn’t drag myself out for a run. I could have done some sort of workout in the office gym, but I didn’t. Eating cookies and chocolate while bouncing on my balance ball was way more satisfying.
On Saturday I worked two birthday parties at the rock gym, and a bunch of my favorite climbers were there between the parties so I bouldered with them for a bit, and Tim met me at the gym after the second party and I climbed again with him for a little while.
I have no idea what happened on Sunday. I had big plans–a longish run and climbing with a friend–but they never happened. Instead, I cleaned my apartment and watched 5 or 6 episodes of Private Practice on the Netflix. (Please don’t judge me for my horrible taste in television.)
I guess what I’m getting at, without actually saying it, is that I just feel really bad about myself for having two weeks in a row where I wasn’t as motivated/active as I feel I should have been. I hate how easily I can talk myself out of doing something, especially when I know how much better I would feel afterward if I just manned up and did it. So I’m going to make an extra strong effort this week, and try to make up for my lackluster performance last week and the week before. This is the week that I find my motivation again; yes, this is the week I get back on my horse. (Except that by “horse” I really mean “running,” “snowboarding,” and/or “climbing.” But I’m sure you knew that.)