I’ve decided today is the day to get back into my training routine. The various constituencies of my body and mind are a little split along partisan lines on this issue.
The limbic region of my brain, concerned with instant gratification, is firmly opposed to exercise of any kind, and vocally opposed to re-starting exercise now. In an impassioned filibuster conducted this week, Senator Limbic extolled at great length the virtues of french fries, Double Stuf Oreos, breakfast skillets and Snickers bars. In an attempt to appease him, I gave him what he wanted, but like all power-hungry wingnuts, he’s not satisfied and demanding more.
My conservative rational mind is expressing greater and greater concern that I won’t be ready for the Tri-ing for Children Triathlon in Eagle on July 26th if I don’t get my butt back in gear. “You lose one week of training for every one day you don’t exercise,” it whispers worriedly. “If you don’t get going now, you’ll get de-motivated and you won’t do well.”
In a stunning show of working together across the aisle and bipartisanship, my, um, testosterone glands (go ahead and wiki that) agree totally with my rational mind, normally its greatest rival. “We crushed the Elkhart Lake tri, now we must stay vigilant and crush the Eagle tri as well!”
My quads, hammies, and knees have formed a minority bloc against the rest of my body and are threatening to strike if I resume exercise. They don’t hurt anymore, but they remember the hurt. Despite that rogue faction, the rest of my body is voting in favor of training, citing a “general malaise” they wanted to overcome.
I wish I could say I was truly torn about this, but the fact is, I’m not.
There is a powerful voice in my internal Galactic Senate. Chancellor Endorphin has, through sinister backroom negotiations and devious political savvy, made itself the de facto ruler of me. And he is a demanding ruler. He wants more triathlons conquered, so he may steal from them the “feel-good” hormones that only they can provide. The Force is strong with him, and he uses competitiveness and adrenaline as his weapons.
When people ask me why I do triathlons, I tell them it’s because endorphins make heroin look like caffeine.
So I’ll be going for a run today. Gotta feed the beast.