I generally have a will of steel when it comes to exercise: if I have decided that I am going to do some exercise, then come hell or high water I will bloody well go and do some exercise. During the week, I tend to exercise in the evenings after work, so I will put my kit together in the morning, pop it in the car and head to the gym whenever I finish work. I always plan to leave the office at around 6pm so that I can exercise and still get home at a reasonable hour and with plenty of time to cook dinner and to unwind.
That's the plan, anyway.
Usually what happens is that I look at my watch and realise that it has gone 7pm. I still go to they gym, but it just means that I don't get home until 9pm, and I won't be eating until nearly 10pm.
It's my own fault, I know, but it's no wonder I don't get to bed until late.
Anyway. Tonight I was going to go for a swim. I went for a run on Saturday, took Sunday off and I'm going to the osteopath and then to the pub quiz tomorrow.... so tonight I had to exercise.
Do you know what? I couldn't face it. I left work at 8pm and just went home. I felt tired, run down; my arm, shoulder and legs were feeling full of the WTs and to cap it all I think I might have cracked a rib playing football on Thursday (my stupid body is falling apart!). So I just went home.
I can't leave it there though, can I? I'm going to get up early and go for a run before work.
You'd think it wouldn't hurt to have a day off now and again, would you?
Alcohol-Free Beers (Part Thirty-Seven)
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