Every time I exercise, I’m basically asking Death if he’s ready to take me that day. And when it’s done, when I’m panting and sweating and somehow still alive, I can’t help but feel the icy sting of rejection.
I’ve been making a quiet return to exercise now that Rainbow is mostly sleeping through the night. It’s hard to work out when you’re running on three hours of sleep or when you’re old or when you’re sick with allergies… I have so many excuses. And yet I can’t deny the feeling of accomplishment of setting a workout goal and completing it. Today was easy: ten intervals of a minute up and a minute down. A recovery day. Just to fill the green ring on my watch.
And really, it’s all just maintenance anyway.
Just trying to get this trainwreck another mile down the tracks.
Who knows? There might be fish and chips and Red Bull at the next station.