This morning started out clumsily and Nikki had a dentist appointment (no cavities!), so we decided that instead of our usual 9:30 a.m. bootcamp, we’d go to the 3:30 p.m. class. How my weekday training has been working is that we go to our regular bootcamp (Tues/Thurs) and then hang out and run afterwards, and then also run on Wednesday, with a long run on Sundays. Confused? It’s like this:
Monday: rest day
Tuesday: Bootcamp / run (3 miles total)
Wednesday: Run (distance increases weekly)
Thursday Bootcamp / run (3 miles total)
Friday: High-Intensity Interval Training (beginning this week)
Saturday: rest day
Sunday: long run (distance increases weekly)
Anyway, because I had the morning unexpectedly free, I decided to work on the syllabus for my spring class. Except, I checked the roster and saw that there were only 5 students registered for the class. So, I emailed the course assignment guru to have my worst fears confirmed: my class was going to be cancelled.
In the past couple of years, I’ve typically taught two classes in the spring (I work for two departments at my college) but earlier on I got word that one of those classes was a no-go (I was told they were giving all spring assignments to grad students). So, I was already down one class which sucked enough. But now, exactly one week before the beginning of the new semester is starting, I learned that I will not be teaching the other class, either. Okay, the assignment guru did say he was going to do what he could to shuffle some classes to get me a replacement class (“what hours are you available?” “ANY HOURS!!!”). And if anyone can do it, he can, but see, I can’t count on that.
I’m totally bummed. And also, unemployed.
And then it was time to go to bootcamp. I was not feeling it. But maybe, I thought, some grunting and sweating would relieve my stress and make me feel better. Sometimes it does.
Except this time it didn’t, really. Everything felt arduous. The push-ups, the burpees, the lunges and squats. The only thing that didn’t feel like I was doing it while encased in 3 tons of cement were the sprint drills we did around the track. And then afterwards, it was time to run. We’d run a total of two miles in bootcamp, so I had to run another one to make my 3-mile goal.
I started on the track but felt too lethargic, so I went to a treadmill. The first quarter mile took forever. The second one was just as bad, but then I was halfway done. The third wasn’t so bad, and then I only had one more.
So, I pulled it out. It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t exhilarating or transcendant. It was just work, but it was work I had to do and I did it.
When I was done, I didn’t really feel any less glum, but at least I did feel satisfied knowing I had pulled out of me at least the bare minimum of what I needed to do to stick to my training regiment and my goals.
Somedays, I feel, that is going to be as much as I can hope for. That, and a picture of a taxidermied kitten in a ridiculous outfit.