It's June first and as we approach the half way point of this crazy year I got it into my head to try and catch up on some of my training this month. There are multiple ways I could approach such a daunting task, obviously. The way I've chosen is to attempt a daily run. Daily. As in every day for June.
The rule is simple: minimum twenty minutes per day, each day in June.
The plan was to go for a run after work, get away from my desk and burn off some stress with a light tempo run through the neighbourhood.
The Kid’s schedule dictated supper for 530, which turned out to leave me no time before eating.
My anxiety turned into a stomach ache so I rested for a bit before crashing for a early evening nap around 615.
I pulled myself out of slumberland around 7 and wallowed in some residual self-pity for about 20 minutes.
And finally, just shy of 730 I laced up and slogged out a painful five klicks.
I hopped on the bike after another long day of working from home social isolation and played instructor roulette... and won. The guy whose class I chose to join was offering up an eighties music blast with a Marty McFly theme. Thirty minutes of intense speed-work left me ready for a crash in the recliner and some classic television eps.
Of my three remaining races this year, the three I am (was) registered for, two were cancelled this morning. If ... IF ... it still happens, my next registered event turns out to be the Chicago Marathon which I am moderately convinced that the universe does not want me to run. So, when Jenn texted at half ten and said that she was going to ride in in the 10am live ride on the Peloton, was I in, I said obviously and went to get my shorts on.