This morning we had a 9km run scheduled, but because it was wet ‘n’ wild outside, and because we were pooped, we slept in. Which leaves me with the situation that I have to get the 9kms in on Saturday morning, before I meet Grace for breakfast at 8:30am. I have a military-esque schedule this weekend, which means that before breakfast is the only option, and to add to the complications I have the architecture awards ball tonight – which means a) booze and b) a late night.
So that leaves me in a difficult place where I need to try and keep myself under control when there is free-flowing bubbles, and then back up that discipline by forcing myself out of bed at an hour where I’ll be running in the dark, on my own. Boo. All to make this rotten 35km weekly mileage target that I foolishly proclaimed to all earlier in the week. Why do I have no self control when it comes to having a good time?? I guess that’s the fundamental thing: for athletes, having a good time is getting to bed early and feeling good the next day when they want to get out of bed to train. Having a good time for me is drinking bubbles on a Friday night with my buddies and then getting up when I feel like it, and training if I feel like it, rather than when my schedule tells me to. In summary: I’m no athlete.
But I guess the race is run in the training…and if I want those 42kms to hurt less, then I’d better put the pain in now. Can I get an amen?