I’m lazy by nature. Unless I have a goal, like a race or a mountain to climb, I tend to stick to a fairly do-the-bare-minimum type of schedule. Which means, three miles, three times a week. This is…ok. Not great. It is below the recommendation of half an hour every day of moderate activity. And yes, the way I run, I would classify it as moderate, not hard. I’m slow af.
Earlier this summer, on day 2 of what is not-so-lovingly referred to as the “Stairmaster” at Seneca, I thought to myself, “You know, I could probably do better if I added a leg day at the gym.” And then I promptly forgot all about it for the rest of the summer, because eh…strength training. Blah.
But now I am once again in training. I’m hiking Half Dome in October, and nothing puts the fear of failure into me like a plane ticket to a mountain. I do NOT spend that kind of money to fail, you guys. Barring thunderstorms or injury, I will make it to the top. Even if it means incorporating strength training into my routine and running a few extra miles, and rehabbing my diet to be more spinach, less wine.
That’s what training is. You do what you have to do, until your body is physically capable of doing what you want to do. That sounds miserable, but it’s not. Honest to God, I love training. I love the feeling of pushing myself farther than I want to go. I love the soreness. I love watching myself get stronger.
If only I could remember that in the off season.