At the end of January's post, I said that I hoped February would be a bit better.
It wasn't. At all. Read on ...
Swimming: 2700m (1.68 mi)
Cycling: 35.67 mi
Running: 15.7 mi
Lifting: 17 sessions (4:19)
Other: three days skiing (5:30)
If I'm being completely honest with myself, I've felt off for a few months now. Definitely for this whole year, but potentially even as far back as November. I have no idea what it is or why it is, but, well, it is.
It could be the uncertainty that still exists in terms of racing and everything.
It could be the fact that we're nearing a year of all this bullshit (I regret nothing on that term, btw).
It could be that I just lost any and all reasons to do this stuff.
I'd say it's depression, but if it is, it's not like any depression I've ever dealt with before. A workout depression, for sure. The Saguaro Half still looks like it's going to take place at the end of March and while I know I can still probably finish it, right now it's looking like it'll be pretty fucking ugly.
And yet ... caring enough to get out the door is extremely difficult. To even try. It feels like 2018, but I don't feel like I have a legitimate reason for it to feel like 2018. And I'm really fucking sick of blaming everything on this stupid pandemic, even though that's probably the logical reason behind it. Collective group trauma or something. And that some people can get through it due to their more Type-A nature (that I definitely do not have).
I don't know. Maybe I'm just bitching. Maybe I should continue to take it as it comes and quit stressing over it.
Maybe ... maybe I just don't know anymore.
