Every time I set a lofty goal for myself the universe slaps me down. Bitch. But I come back… Just give me time.
I fell hard on my arse last week. No, it was not wine-related. I was on my way from the bedroom to the loo in the middle of the night, no lights on, tripped over my rolled up exercise mat, slipped on my stockinged feet (no not the sexy type with garters) and crashed slap onto my bum on the hard wooden floor.
This last weekend, cycling and running was out, and walking was in. Heavy weights are out which is such a bummer (no pun intended) - I was working my way up to having the best muscled arse this side of the equator. And now I have been stopped in my tracks. The only way to get faster is to have glutes with a capital G and do your speed work.
And talking of speed work…I’ve been doing so well lately - sticking to Coach Mo’s paces instead of pretending I haven’t seen them. Yesterday I went out to test the running legs and it was VERY sore. Only managed a pace that is marginally better than my walking pace.
Oh well, onwards and upwards, albeit it at a walk for now.
My Post Partum Project Partner (PPPP because acronyms are so hot right now) will let us have a guest post on her progress in our journey to Comrades every two weeks, she says, so I’m looking forward to sharing that soon.