Over the last four weeks I've been making a habit of finishing my stint on the elliptical trainer with a bit of a sprint over the last three minutes or thereabouts. It's a way of making sure I've genuinely pushed myself and not settled into a comfortable routine.
The odd thing is how unpredictable the various batches of last few minutes have proved. There are occasions when I know I have the reserves to really go for it, and there are times when I've known within 30 seconds that I had nothing left to push with. I thought this evening that I was going to enjoy a feeling of strength in reserve as I hit the 52 minute mark only to discover there was nothing there. I stepped off the machine 3 mediocre minutes later all a-tremble, knowing I had come close to throwing-up territory.
So here I am now, royally aching, happy to have something done, but puzzled as to why it had to be so difficult. I suppose I'm learning something; I just don't know what that something is.
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