Now, I kow my readers (such as they are). I now that, on the day I went back to a spin class for the first time in about a year, you'll be expecting lots of bitching about the pain, the agony, the instructor, the music, the blah de blah de bloody bah blah...
Nope.
Went, did it, sweated like a roasting hog, but the legs and the lungs were mostly fine - evidence, probably, of my not putting enough tension on the bike on this first day back - while the things I'd forgotten - the severe pain the actual ass that doesn't ever let you find a comfortable position on a spin bike, and the tension in the arms brought about by holding onto the handlebars for 45 minutes - took me by more of a surprise. The music's changed for the slightly better since the last time I was there. There were even a couple of tracks I'd listen to for...y'know...pleasure. Going again on Monday, and Tuesday next week.
Beyond that, the failure of this week continues though. Planned to either bike or go to the gym this afternoon to add back the second element of my exercise routine. Failed to do either, then went out with d for a payday meal which...thinking about it...was crammed with sugar, delivered via a barbecue sauce.
Damn...
But - tomorrow's another day. The point, as I seem to keep saying lately and never actually to keep doing, is to not fall off the wagon completely because you have a less-than-perfect day. You get back up, and you get back on...And that's what ultimately separates those who attain their goals from the rest of us, who largely sit around whining into the blogosphere about how hard things are.
Tomorrow, I'm back down the Trail in the morning, then going to Cardiff for a Starbucks editing day. Forward, folks. It's the only direction that counts.
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