When I got to the Y today I was so tired I wanted to take a nap on my foam roller rather than warm-up with it. I didn't sleep great last night, and was up before 6 to get to the hospital by 7:30am. I was starting to worry that maybe training after work isn't going to work out, or maybe I need to add pre-workout supplements back into my routine or at least black coffee pre-workout, or maybe my diet is taking too much of a toll and I'm not going to be able to sustain training over the next four weeks before the competition. In other words, the worry-wheels were spinning, which is always a pointless and not-helpful activity.
It is generally my rule that no matter how I feel I must get my main lift work in, and if, after that, I genuinely, really, truly feel like taking the rest of the day off would be better for me than finishing my planned work, then I do that. I think I have stopped after my main lift exactly twice in almost two years, it's a pretty good system, and it worked out peachy today. By the time I got to my 5th and 6th sets of the split jerk I was feeling absurdly hyped up and ready to attack the weights like crazy. I ended up getting 109#x3 for my heaviest split jerk set, and either added weight on to all my accessory lifts or at least improved my tempo from last week. All in all it was a killer workout, and all the better I think for having started so crappy.
And now? Now I'm back to being beat-down tired, but in a happy, post-workout-carb-snacking sort of way. Happy Monday, y'all. It's good to be alive.
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