Take Two and Call Me in the Morning

I actually got a full night's sleep last night. That is supposed to be one of the benefits of regular exercise. I remember from my days as an athlete that I could fall asleep quickly, sleep all night, and wake up with energy. Last night I fell asleep inside of two pages of my book (no insult intended to Dan Brown,) had seven point five hours completely uninterrupted, and woke up on my own. It was a necessary thing. It should have been a glorious thing. When your body is in a constant state of flux and confusion, however, and you're keeping it that way on purpose - demanding that it change and adapt, it seems like I'm always tired. Weary or fatigued may be better words. I know I'm getting older, but if I reach way back to my college days, I do remember the sort of mid-season feeling of "are we there yet?" I will say I miss the ability to eat 2-3000 calories a day (without a lot of thought toward nutrition) and know I was going to burn it off between my metabolism and 4+ hours a day in workouts. Three weeks and 90 minutes a day has brought out those old feelings. It's good to know they're normal for me.

This is the point in the "season" (which sounds better than "program") that I can't think about tomorrow's workout. I have to spend today recovering from today's workout. Except to lay out my clothes, a strategy that keeps me from making excuses in the morning, I can't let my body consider what I will ask of it tomorrow. Instead I focus on my food choices, keeping my house and family moving, and getting the laundry caught up so I can wear one of the three pairs of workout pants that actually fit me. I'm not depressed. Those endorphines make it all but impossible and I appreciate them greatly, but I am body-tired. I'm looking forward to that time when there's less of me to haul around between workouts and I've convinced my body to speed up it's sluggish metabolism.