I wasn't going to raise my arms in the V-For-Victory today after my run because it was an awful run. I got maybe 7 minutes into it, out there on the nature trail, and I knew it wasn't going well because my entire body was rebelling, constantly trying to stop jogging and not even walk, just trying to stop and sit down.
I forced myself to go the seven minutes, plodding through every minute of it, and then walked-and-ran the rest of the trail, walking 100 steps, then running 100 steps, and so on, until I got done, each step harder than the last.
Usually, fighting through that kind of job makes me at least feel proud, like I'm pushing myself the way Alberto Salazar might have (only about 1/1,000,000th as tough, if that) but today it didn't even do that. It was just grim determination that kept me going, the grit-your-teeth-I'm-not-giving-up-and-just-walking kind of thinking that made me finish up without just walking.
I jogged the last 100 yards, and the whole time I was thinking "No V-for-Victory today," but in the end I decided that this was a victory, because I'd gone on running as much as I could even in the face of my own mind fighting me. So I raised my arms and went inside.
I was sitting on the floor, drinking a glass of milk, and I told Sweetie how bad it had been today.
"I just didn't have it," I said.
"Maybe you need to take a day off," Sweetie said.
I shook my head: "No. This is DAY THIRTY-FOUR. That's the whole point. No days off."
"It's just America," Sweetie said.
I nearly choked on my milk and asked her to explain, please, and she said:
"That's just America. You take a day off from exercise."
Today's workout: Running, the long outside run, 43:09. With lots of walking mixed in.
Latest Weight: 253.
Today's song that probably set the mood for me being in a grimly determined mindset:
Bale Out: The Christian Bale Remix.(NSFW)
PS: The picture on the front of this post is one of the hills I run up at the end of a run.