I’ve switched tack. I jog or cycle first thing each day, in the dark. This week I’ve hit my 70 km cycling target and will jog 7 kms 3 times, planning to steadily ratchet back up to 10 kms each outing. I’ve also decided to get to the gym three times a week. Nine exercise sessions a week means that on two days, I get out twice, something I’ve never attempted before. Yesterday I ran early, cycled early afternoon, and I was sore but uninjured. And my writing energy levels have increased.
I can now gaze forward at the year’s goals: 3,500 cycling kms, 900 jogging kms, 90 gym visits. Will this feeling of fitness improvement persist? Let’s wait and see.
I employed the word loathsome yesterday. Today I glance upward: my sky. Really, who can complain?
Sometimes the labor is unenjoyable to the point of revulsion. Who really wants to examine page after detailed diagram of reactor accident material?
The only pleasure, during those times, is a kind of fury to get this over with. To be done with it.
In Darwin I tried to up the ante and conquer 8-km runs. Twice I tried and twice I had to part walk the last few kilometers. In the relaxing dry heat of the city’s winter, down by the water, I didn’t mind.
Halfway through the year, I’d run 365 kms, well under 50% of the 2017 target of 900 kms. If my hamstring and feet and errant mind get me back to 10-kms runs, the target remains achievable, given that I’ve also decided to run three times a week.
I’d cycled 1,800 kms. The end-of-year goal is 3,500 kms. On track.
I’d worked out 43 times. The goal is 90. Having concluded two gym sessions a week is counter productive, if I’m steady with three visits each week, the goal is doable.
I now have a much better picture of what to do each week until December 31. Isn’t that peace?
For us early risers, there are two ways to wake up. When the alarm trills, the default is to lie in bed working up the willpower to heft up the reluctant body. Another choice is simply to rise and get on with it. Such a sweet, steadfast beginning to the day!
Lucky Bat, Darwin. I can’t. Cannot. Bedazzled blank brain.
Breathe and write small phrases. Calm. All it takes to build a book is today’s work repeated.