Okay, the formal definition of Muscle Memory, at least according to Google, is: motor memory: your memory for motor skills. In my case it's more like 'remembering muscles I forgot I had'.
You may have noticed that I haven't posted race recaps for the first three races in the Great Lakes Running Series. That's because I didn't do them. After I got back from France, work went from crazy to batshit crazy, the weather went to crap, and the holidays hit. In short: I didn't train, therefore I didn't race. I should have known that trying to work around 50 hours a week, train, and keep my assorted family commitments was a recipe for disaster. It's not like I haven't had this problem before. So here I am: work has calmed down immensely and I'm working closer to 40 hours a week, the holidays are over, and I haven't done much in the way of exercise in about 2 months. I'm about 4 1/2 pounds over my happy weight and about 7 1/2 pounds over my "fighting weight". Oh...and the Expo Run is on January 27th. Clearly I have my work cut out for me. This week is all about getting back in the habit of being aware of what I'm eating and why I'm eating it (damn you delicious holiday cookies) and ramping up my level of physical activity - essentially another Wiggle War. I'm really not expecting a PR from the Expo Run, but I'd like to finish without completely embarrassing myself!
So this week I've gone back to tracking calories in vs. calories out (I'll probably post a review of the app I'm using if I decide to stick with it), making a point to drink more water, attempting to get on a decent sleep schedule, and trying to spend less time on the couch and more time moving my butt!
Here's a little breakdown of my week:
Monday, December 31: 40 minute Sun Salutation/Yoga Flow DVD. Discover exactly how much flexibility has been lost since ceasing in-studio practice several months ago and how much I miss yoga.
Wednesday, January 2: Back to work. Park self in chair at 8am. Get up only to microwave soup and refill water bottle. Get home with every intention of working out, but then get one of those phone calls that leaves only one acceptable course of action: drink wine.
Thursday, January 3: Get home from work. Contemplate driving to indoor track since it's a frigid 19 degrees outside. Opt for bike trainer/strength workout DVD in the basement. Struggle to complete it. Experience jello-legs immediately. Feel good about having done it - even if it kicked my ass!
Friday, January 4: I never pay attention to how many times a day I get up to run to the printer/copier/water cooler until I have sore legs. Apparently I am a human Jack-In-A-Box. Realize at 4:30pm that I'd gotten so caught up in a project that I never ate lunch. Consider gnawing on office furniture. Arrive home, order pizza, and proceed to spend the rest of the night with Mr. R&R sorting through the guest room closet (aka: miscellaneous catch-all space) and drinking wine.
Saturday, January 5: It's a sunny, reasonably warm (34 degrees), not too windy day. Pile on layers and go for a 3 mile run for the first time in...well...too damned long. The first 1 1/2 miles feel pretty good. The last 1 1/2 miles are hellacious: uphill, into a bitter cold wind that has sprung up out of nowhere...and some jerk who didn't think that city shoveling ordinances applied to them, thus leading to running over a large patch of ice. Crawl through door feeling thoroughly humbled. I'm pretty sure a septueagenarian with a limited mobility could have out-run me today. There's only one way to fix it: Quit slacking, suck it up, and RUN!
Sunday, January 6: Wake up to a thin sheet of ice covering every flat surface in sight and quads that feel absolutely shredded. After a near death experience on the aforementioned ice while walking a bag of trash 15 feet from the back door to the bin, determine that today is a lost cause since I don't want to walk on the ice, much less drive or run on it! Continue guest room cleaning project, bake egg muffins as a grab and go breakfast for the next week, make lunch for Monday and Tuesday, and generally spend the day getting my metaphorical ducks in a row.
And there you have it...my week in a nutshell. Was it perfect? No. Was it better than the 8 weeks before it? Hell, yes!