Oh darn, I missed him.

Well, I did it, I finally got back to the gym.  Yay me.

After last Monday’s giant fail of a workout, I was in major pain.  I hobbled around like someone with a new pair of legs on Tuesday, and on Wednesday I could barely get my feet up high enough off the ground to keep from tripping at every step.  I figured two days off between workouts was just fine, and planned on a triumphant return to the gym on Thursday.

Sadly, my body conspired against me.  As Thursday afternoon progressed I began to feel that nasty little tickle in the back of my throat that signals the onset of a cold for me.  By the time I got home from work all I wanted to do was curl up in a ball on the couch and go to sleep.  I even made my husband make dinner (we had pasta, which he didn’t burn this time, good for him).  I went to bed at 8:30pm, had my light out by 9pm and fell asleep shortly after.

Now, had I stayed asleep things might have been ok, but no, I was awake by 11:30pm and barely got any sleep the rest of the night.  When my alarm went off at 5:30am my throat felt like a combination of sandpaper and gravel mixed with pain.  Needless to say, I took the day off work, along with the night off from the gym.

Then came the weekend, which was a long weekend here in Ontario.  Friday we saw a movie, no gym.  Saturday we went to a dinner/theatre thing with my SIL and her boyfriend, no gym (I did do an hours worth of yard work though, that counts, right?), Sunday we went to the beach, no gym, but swimming!  Monday, I had a touch of sun stroke, and we went into the city to visit with friends, no gym, but more yard work.  Tuesday was a final day of cold recovery and grocery shopping, no gym.

That’s me at the beach!

Which brings us to today.  Come hell or high water, I was going for a workout tonight!  I made sure to get as good of a nights sleep as I could, I planned out good meals for the whole day, I drank plenty of water and thought positive thoughts.

And it worked.  I have to say though, Stage 7 is freaking killer.  Hard.  I’m sure that the fact that it’s hot at hell up on the weight floor at my gym doesn’t help with the I-wanna-puke feeling that’s induced by a really intense workout, but just like last time the pukey feeling hit me somewhere in the middle of the workout.  Today, however, I knew that it was the workout causing not, not my lack of prep.  So, I paused when I needed to and powered though.

And man, that’s an awesome feeling.  Powering through the urge to vomit and finishing a workout strong.  I’m sure I’ll be a giant ball of pain tomorrow, but for right now, I’m feeling pretty awesome.

And, of course, today was Weigh In Wednesday, and while I’m less than pleased with the results, in the interest of accountability and being honest with the world, I’ll share the number.  177.  How I hate that number.  Hate it.  I’m going to chalk it up to a weekend of beer and way less than stellar food, and the fact that I only got in one so-so workout.  So, 177, you are heading for the hills, pronto!

If you’ve made it this far and are confused about the title of the post, ’cause really, it’s had nothing whatsoever to do with the content to this point, I guess I should tell you who I missed.  The Grunter.  Yup.  As I was leaving the gym on my wobbly legs (note to self, driving standard + hardcore workouts =/= friends) he was stretching.  In the parking lot.  Grunting.


One response to “Oh darn, I missed him.

  1. Oh god, I feel you on a number you hate. You’ll get break through it – kick 177 in the crotch, I say!

    Serious props on powering through that workout. You’re a superwoman!

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