I woke up this morning to a glaring fact, one that I kind of knew already, but was unaware of the extent: I did not run hard at all yesterday. I mean, when I got out of bed today not only was I not sore but my legs didn't even feel like I had run yesterday. After 6.2 miles of the Dreaded Druid Hills, I expected at least a little "ouchy" going down the stairs. But nothing, nada. In fact, my muscles actually felt kind of fresh. Sooooo, off to the gym for today's cross-training, and some atonement. I forced myself to do 6.2 miles on the elliptical, with resistance up to 15 for several intervals, in under 60 minutes. It hurt. Worse than yesterday's race for sure. I hobbled back to my car on jelly-fied legs sound in the knowledge I had duly made up for any slack from the previous day.
Today's Miles: 6.2 that don't really count
Total Miles: Still 92
1 comment:
Oh how I wish it were no so, but all of the signs point to it being true and irrefutable as well. Runner Girl is not my daughter! I don't know how or when the switch took place, but it was done in such a smooth and totally undetectable way that for all I know she wasn't my progeny by the time she was weened. Oh the humanity (a nod to the late Orson Welles)! This charlatan, this faker, this humbug has led me on for years ontold. The giveaway was her need for pain when it didn't come naturally. You run a treacherous race on Saturday and you feel okay on Sunday so you go to a gym and make yourself hurt; yeah, that's the ticket. There is not an iota of that thinking, much less a microspore of that behavior, in my genome. Who is this pettifogger, this mountbank using me as her ancestral genitor? Until this moment I have had almost nothing but love and admiration for her in quantities beyond capacity, the "almost" qualifier needed only because I occasionally have feared her capabilitites as my own would surely suffer in comparison, but even then the fear was because of my love. Had I not loved her I could have ignored her but alas, 'twas no to be. But now comes this pretender, a perfect doppleganger in almost every respect, who gave herself away in an otherwise innocent blog by admitting to something my DNA would not allow. I have no choice but to continue loving her because she has been my true daughter's twin for oh these many years, and has become the true object of my paternal love all the while, unbeknownst to me, she has been a poser. Such is life. Well, I guess I can do no more than to continue loving, supporting, and encouraging her in every aspect of her life. Because, I guess when the smoke clears and the test results are in, and despite this most recent evidence to the contrary, I'll be saying "Yugo girl, I've got your DNA!"
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