Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.
It has been one week since my last strength training session. My muscles are exhausted. My physical capacity for moving at anything over a turtle's pace while lifting anything but the remote has dwindled. I am sunburned (and blistered) from relying on a 9 year old to apply lotion at the beach on my pasty back. And my brain has been turned to mush from a proper melting from this man:
I've spent my entire weekend in a state of exhaustion, to say the least. On Thursday, I was still feeling feverish, so I wisely took the day off. I never take sick days. I always have this guilt complex about it. I feel like if I can type and answer questions without vomiting, than I should go in. But for some reason, I was compelled to take off Thursday. My head was throbbing, I felt feverish, and my stomach was aching. And my productivity would have been at a zero. So, I reluctantly took the day off to lay around in my pjs, watching tv and checking my work email from home.
On Friday, still feeling ill, I skipped my morning run. I was supposed to do 6 miles, but after about 3/4ths of one, I had to stop. My legs were cramping and my headache was almost unbearable. I knew I had a long day ahead of me, so I just gave in and walked home (tail between legs).
Luckily, I had enough energy to entertain my 9 year old niece for our pre-planned slumber party. We spent several hours at the beach (hence the blistering sunburn on my back... soooo painful), took a bit of a nap, rode the L to the Rainforest Cafe, played in the Faces Fountain, and then saw Beauty and the Beast. I ate too much junk, overloaded on carbs, and spent precious water time jumping over waves instead of actually swimming. But it was worth it to spend some quality time with the little one.
Unfortunately, I learned the pains of waking up a 9 year old at 7am on a Saturday after a long night out. She fell asleep on the ride back home. The baby nephew was awake enough for me to give him his present:
Oh. And I beat Brendan at several hands of poker. I won $2.40 off of him.
Sunday morning, I awoke to beautiful, clear blue skies... which is the opposite of what I wanted to see. I had a 12 mile training run planned and I did not want to run in anything but clouds, a steady breeze, and temps under 70. Instead, I got starting temps at around 82, no breeze, and no shade covering. My first 5 miles were easy, but as soon as I made it for mile 6-7 (easily the hardest because of it's location right on the water and no shade or benches), I was dead. I slowed and made it to the rest station at mile 8. I then made the decision to suck it up and run past the smelly Lincoln Park zoo trails so I could run under some tree cover. That's when my watch started fizzing out and telling me that I had run a 22 minute mile. I mean, I guess it could be so, but it then told me I ran a 9 minute mile... so there' that. Damn GPS. Either way, I finished my 12 miler in a respectable time (that didn't count my five-seven minute pit stops at the rest areas). I recovered pretty quickly after some Gatorade, soy milk, and a pretty hardy lunch.
8 hours later, I was sitting/standing in historic Wrigley Field waiting for Paul McCartney to come on. He put on an amazing show. I couldn't help but taking moments to remind myself how much of a dream come true it was. I saw Paul McCartney live. I sang along to Hey Jude and air drummed Let 'Em In. How cool is that?!?
Anyways, so obviously not much fitness and way too much bad eating. Here's my intended schedule for this week:
Monday: Spin class (taking it light since my sunburn is horribly painful)
Tuesday: 3 mile run, ST
Wednesday: Rest Day
Thursday: 6 mile run, ST
Friday: Rest Day
Saturday: Spin class, ST
Sunday: 9 mile LSD