Practically every time I pack my bag the night before for a 6 a.m. morning swim -- goggles, cap, towel, sweats, Zoomers -- I wind up not attending the workout. What's up with that?
The rationale with packing early is to save time so I can sleep longer in the morning. It's my way of committing to the swim hours before I enter the water. Sort of a pre-bedtime psych job. Yet, on the days where I can drag myself out of bed for the workout, it's usually because I need to scramble and scrape together my workout gear. I wonder if being more prepared is somehow actually enabling me to sleep more deeply, thus making it harder to wake up.
Today though, I honestly just didn't feel like going. I wasn't feeling it, flat-out. I didn't even feel like training at all, for that matter. Maybe my post last night about changing pace stuck with me longer than expected. Maybe it was the barbecue cheeseburger, fries and a salad at 8 p.m. after my run with Stephanie. Maybe it was the tinge of embarrassment I still have for getting testy with someone in the pool during my most recent swim on Tuesday night. Or, the fatigue associated with a frantic end to the workday, a frenzied bike ride home, a brick workout and writing another freelance article for Lava Magazine.
It's probably all of the above.
So at 3:19 a.m., I searched in the dark for my cell phone, clicked off the alarm, and went fetal. I decided to skip training today altogether and switch it to tomorrow, normally my off-day. The extra two hours sleep was time well-invested. I had a big meeting today that required my full energy, and a late evening planned at the Hollywood Bowl. No afternoon bonk fight to resist. No stiff legs either.
Of course, that means tomorrow I'm waking up at 6:30 after probably getting home around 11:30 p.m. to swim (alone, gah!) and then run at lunch. To continue my streak of including a Yogi Berra quote in my posts, "It's like deja vu all over again."
At least my swim bag is already packed.
78 days and counting.