A Bridge Too Far.

Saturday my legs fell off 45 minutes into the workout. Nothing I could do would make them push any harder than a leisurely pace, and even that required some goosing. I was cooked, and figured I just had gone a little too hard in the first half. No problem. A high saturated fat meal with a sensible desert sundae to top it off and a good night's sleep and I would be back at it.
  
Sunday it took me all of about 10 pedal strokes to figure out that was perhaps a bit optimistic. I ground out most of what I was planning on doing, but even by indoor training standards it wasn't a lot of fun. I cut it a little short, because I wasn't doing myself any favors and I had to get to an Alyeska Mighty Mites coaching clinic. In the rain.
  
I frantically looked for all of my skiing gear at the last minute, cursing myself for procrastinating. Eventually, I just grabbed a bunch of spares (I collect ski gear like I collect bike parts) and rolled out the door 10 minutes late. The weather got worse and worse as I approached Alyeska. A steady rain was falling, and anything not hit by the groomer's tiller was see-through ice. What was hit by the groomer was slush, which coincidentally was the current composition of my legs. It was going to be a long day, especially since it was my first day on snow this season. In new boots.
  
A quick run from the top to the bottom with some other coaches on our way to the on-hill part of the clinic transformed my legs from merely sore to throbbing and threatening to lock up at any moment in a painful charley horse. That was OK, because that run also was enough to ensure I was pretty much soaked (despite the very best technical fabrics) and working my way towards miserable.
  
The head coach had us do a series of drills and other fun stuff, but eventually decided that it would be a better idea to destroy his coaching staff somewhat later in the season. No need to do it all up front.
  
I rushed home to feed the family, take my eldest back to Job Corps, and shop for groceries. Sure, I have plenty of reserve energy. As I got out of the car at the grocery store, the charley horse finally made its move, so I spent a few minutes leaning against the dirty car and crying silently. I limped around the store, leaning on the cart for support. Even my wife, whose idea of sympathy is to call me a dumb ass who should have known better, looked concerned.
 
I think I might designate tomorrow as a rest day. If all goes well, maybe I'll consider a similar designation for the rest of the week.
 
Or I'll go right back to killing myself.
 
Probably the latter.

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