Saturday morning my husband and I went to the football stadium of the local college. Instead of running 5 miles that morning we decided to try stairs. Running from the bottom of the football stands to the top and then over and down the far set of stairs consisted of one set. I made it 7 times - he lapped me - a couple of times. By the end my legs felt like jello. I told him that I probably would have preferred running the 5 miles instead. Then he said, "let's run a mile - as fast as we can on the last leg". Reluctantly, I agreed. I don't know what I was thinking. My legs were not quite mine and it felt like at any moment they were going to give out on me, but in the end I made it. . . . and it felt good to complete the task. Walking to the car, I told myself that wasn't so bad and I'm grateful it's over.
Fast forward two days later; my calf muscles are so sore it took all I had to walk from my bedroom to the laundry room to retrieve my workout clothes at 5:30 this morning. It felt like someone had stuffed huge balls of cement into my legs which wouldn't allow the muscles to stretch all the way. And today I'm suppose to be working on lower body at the gym. Even though I could barely walk, I told myself I would still go to the gym and try my best at my usual workout routine.
I had to skip one machine altogether, it was too painful. And then when it came time to do my HIITs I just had to walk. But I chose to set the incline high on the treadmill in order to help me stretch out my reluctant calf muscles. All in all, it ended up being ok. Then I made a commitment to myself that I will go for a walk sometime this afternoon.
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