Goaded along by the nagging knowledge that I've not had a regular pt schedule in a looong while and the predictable result - holy hell, is that a gut? - I went for what can only be very generously called a run the other day.
Run... more like a jog.
Okay, okay, so it was more of a shuffle interspersed with wheezing, bursts of disgust, a vague sense of blehitude, and the like. 'Course, all this is compounded by the fact that not too terribly long ago I was in pretty good shape, and I still try to do what I once was able to.
Then: Last half mile? Start kicking it up a notch to a finish in a dead sprint.
Now: Try not to drop dead. Try not to think about how dropping dead might actually be an improvement in sensation.
Then: Stop after running for 45 minutes, not from exhaustion, but to go to the gym.
Now: Stop running. Exhausted. Screw Jim.
Then: "What we gonna do when we get back?!? Drink a beer and hit the rack!!!"
Now: "Please God make it stop."
[Note to self, screw the changing of fonts, 'cause it'll screw with you]
Then: Easy pace is anything in the neighborhood of 7-8 minute miles.
Now: Takes me about 8 minutes to tie my shoes.
Then: "Eh, think I'll run for 10 miles today, what the hell, might as well"
Now: [Crawling through the front door] Two miles. Enough. *pant, pant*
So I finish my 'run', shower up and try to get some Zs. Did I mention that I'm going through another bout of insomnia? At least I'm not a walking zombie like last time, I suppose. I'm just about continuously tired, sure, but I figured that getting some more excersice should help with the whole situation. It remains to be seen...
To top it off, something I ate last night definitely didn't agree with me.
I was sitting at the computer after dinner, updating some files, when I heard/felt a disturbingly familiar rumble in my gut.
Oh.... crap.
Like clockwork, 'bout an hour later I started feeling... hungry.
Not good.
Cold sweats, nausea, and several episodes of toilet time that we'll not go into here later, and I was hating life. Called off from work today, tommorrow doesn't look good either.
Heck, I didn't know if my thighs were quivering from the run... or from the runs.
Sorry, couldn't resist.
Run... more like a jog.
Okay, okay, so it was more of a shuffle interspersed with wheezing, bursts of disgust, a vague sense of blehitude, and the like. 'Course, all this is compounded by the fact that not too terribly long ago I was in pretty good shape, and I still try to do what I once was able to.
Then: Last half mile? Start kicking it up a notch to a finish in a dead sprint.
Now: Try not to drop dead. Try not to think about how dropping dead might actually be an improvement in sensation.
Then: Stop after running for 45 minutes, not from exhaustion, but to go to the gym.
Now: Stop running. Exhausted. Screw Jim.
Then: "What we gonna do when we get back?!? Drink a beer and hit the rack!!!"
Now: "Please God make it stop."
[Note to self, screw the changing of fonts, 'cause it'll screw with you]
Then: Easy pace is anything in the neighborhood of 7-8 minute miles.
Now: Takes me about 8 minutes to tie my shoes.
Then: "Eh, think I'll run for 10 miles today, what the hell, might as well"
Now: [Crawling through the front door] Two miles. Enough. *pant, pant*
So I finish my 'run', shower up and try to get some Zs. Did I mention that I'm going through another bout of insomnia? At least I'm not a walking zombie like last time, I suppose. I'm just about continuously tired, sure, but I figured that getting some more excersice should help with the whole situation. It remains to be seen...
To top it off, something I ate last night definitely didn't agree with me.
I was sitting at the computer after dinner, updating some files, when I heard/felt a disturbingly familiar rumble in my gut.
Oh.... crap.
Like clockwork, 'bout an hour later I started feeling... hungry.
Not good.
Cold sweats, nausea, and several episodes of toilet time that we'll not go into here later, and I was hating life. Called off from work today, tommorrow doesn't look good either.
Heck, I didn't know if my thighs were quivering from the run... or from the runs.
Sorry, couldn't resist.
2 comments:
Ack! Hope you're feeling better soon Murphy.
And the only reason I can find to run these days is if something is after me that I don't think I can tackle. If we were meant to run, we'd of been given 4 legs. :-P
Oh wow that sucks.
If this is any comfort to you be happy that you I have never been able to run 16.0934 km (10 miles) in my life and that this week I will be joining you in the pain of getting back into shape.
Enjoy your Gatorade and convalescence time and hope you feel better soon!
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