Sucking at Recovery.

Periodically Janice will schedule a Recovery Week. After weeks of slowly building training stress, a Recovery Week allows my body to rebuild and capitalize on all of the poorly-performed workouts. In other words, to heal.
Mostly it involves easier workouts to keep the blood flowing. By easier, I mean mind-numbing. Without the distraction of riding so hard you want to puke, the duration can seem like an eternity on the trainer. Power levels and heart rate have to stay moderated.
I suck at this.
Even after feeling ground into the dirt the previous week, after which walking to the bathroom requires careful metering of strength reserves, I still manage to overdo it. My power output slowly creeps up. I do sprint efforts. Essentially I do everything possible to sabotage my performance, ensuring I'm properly fatigued for the next round of workouts.
This week is a Recovery Week, and chances are I've already done significant damage that I will pay for in the coming weeks and months. My development will stagnate, frustrating Janice beyond human comprehension.
However, I balance my excesses in training intensity with excesses in caloric volume during these weeks. Costco's aisles of jumbo-sized snack foods are where I call home now. If I didn't eat it, the kids would have to, and I love them too much to let them do that. I'll take the hit.
If you're going to screw up, make sure you do it in a grand fashion.
It's not malicious or even intentional. I'm just stupid.


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