As I dressed to go to the gym today, I knew it. As I walked to the gym, I knew it. And on my second set of hang cleans, my first exercise for the day after warm-ups, I really knew it. I knew I had nothing left.
I surfed for three and a half hours yesterday, and it wasn't one of those days where you spent a lot of time waiting for the next wave. You caught one, paddled back out and quickly caught another. Or you were padding to stay in position. In other words, I was almost constantly moving.
That's not a huge amount of surfing (I once did seven hours in Costa Rica) but it felt like a lot given the fact that I hadn't surfed in about a month.
So today, I could feel the effects all over. But I still went to the gym. Why? I love going to the gym and I love how it makes me feel.
Yet I should've listened to my body. We all need recovery time, especially as we get older. I've know that but sometimes I'm still a little hardheaded when it comes to fitness, which of course can lead to injuries.
So after not finishing that second set of hang cleans, I stupidly tried another. It went nowhere and I finally did the smart thing. I went home, to rest.
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