I can’t even think of a swearword that would come close to my training session this morning.
It took 55 minutes for me to convince my body to get out the door (I knew this would happen so I set the alarm for 5am) and onto the street. Usually when this happens I roll over and get another hour of shut eye, but today I forced myself. This was my first mistake, because after I managed to get out in the fresh air it just got worse.
My legs just wouldn’t work.
You know those pampered pooches on the promenade that have to be carried because otherwise their scrawny necks would snap if their doting owners dragged them along by their leashes? It was a bit like that. And my arse still hurts from those lunges on Sunday – how the %£@! is that possible?
So not only did I have to endure the hell of 5 (the evil plan slapped another one on this week) hill repeats that would have made Dante’s eyes bleed, I had to do it twice as bloody slow.
Route: My flat to Bellevue Street, 800m hill repeats at 30% x 5
Time started: 5:55am
Total time: 1:45
Total distance: 13km ish
One thought on “Hill torture”
Rolled out of bed, looked at the mess in the kitchen from last night’s dinner party, had a fag, got to work at 10am. Went for a run at lunch, managed 5k in 31 minutes, patted myself on the back and had another fag on the way back to the office.