gyminy cricket

it's nearly time to call saturday a day. well, obviously it's already called a day (satur), but for me it's about time to get into my nice warm bed and wait for the seventh day to begin so i can lather rinse repeat and do it all over again.

i was so super organised that i went to the gym before work, which meant packing up my 1430-2300 needs and transporting them at 1130. i always have to check my supplies about four times to make sure i have everything, because it's a sad time in a girl's life when you have to use the hairdryer to dry your undies because you forgot to pack extra ones.

last weeks triathlon scared the bejeebus out of me, so i've been facing down that 2km run three days in a row. i've manged to shave 1.5 minutes off my time in a week, so that's good. i think. i'm also painfully aware that i'm going to have to tack that extra half a km on sometime too. that will hurt, but i have some swears practised just for that.

at the same time i'm refriending the spin bike in an effort to live up to my team's expectations in september. i'm super smile happy that i have the uphill portion of the race. lucky i have some swears in reserve for this, too. i try them out a little at a time, usually when i hit my knee in the same place on the stupid bike when i get on/off. you'd think i'd learn, but i think we all know a little something about my repeating behaviours that are not necessarily beneficial to me.

i managed my 40 minutes on the bike (2 minutes down, 2 minutes up, except the whole 5 minutes up at the end), then i ran the 2km in 11 minutes 23 seconds, and then i went to the mat. i had to lie on the mat with my towel over my face for the crying, but no one seemed to notice. now, i've noticed this at the gym before. you can lie face down on the mat for ten minutes, not moving and nobody seems to worry. this worries me, understandably. at the pub, if you have too much, you won't get served. at the casino, they're bound by law to ask you if you think you've had enough. but at the gym, they'll sell you a power cookie and watch you row 25km without a whisper.

i guess whatever doesn't kill me makes me better, faster, stronger. right?