It's amazing how being in horrible shape can just kind of creep up on you. I yog without a watch or GPS, so every now and then when doing a workout, after a repeat I ask someone, "hey, what was our time on that one?" Invariably, I hear the answer and think, hmm, really? It sure felt a lot faster than that! Oh well. GPSes aren't that accurate anyway. That mile repeat was probably 30 meters long. And I shouldn't be killing myself in these workouts anyway. I'm saving it for race day (even though I have no plans to race)! Then, when I randomly find myself toeing the line at some OTCY and stink it up, I convince myself that I was holding back, sore, untapered and not ready to race there was no way I was going to put it all out there. Then finally, there's an OTCY where I show up, put in a real effort, dig in mentally and work hard through the pain, push myself to the point of near blackout over the last 1/2 mile, then look up at the finish clock and see that my yogging has regressed about 3 years. That's truly an awesome experience. The satisfaction of knowing that I put in a real effort and didn't puss out coupled with the cold, hard reality that I'm terrible (even more than I thought I was) and that my best stinks. The basic satisfaction of the good effort usually dominates for about 20 minutes before the stench of my horribleness starts taking over and overwhelms my senses over the next few days. But, if I can resist the urge to make some obvious changes to the lifestyle habits that have brought me to this point, and instead decide to make the transition from regular drinker to borderline alcoholic and glutton, then the horribleness stops being a temporary situation and takes on a firm, permanent presence. That's what I did and this is where I am.
I look forward to defending my Krispy Kreme West title this Saturday. Then look out Turkey Trot and Honolulu! Racing season bitches!
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