First, thank you to everyone who so kindly welcomed me back to blogland and thought/worried/inquired about me while I was gone. My hiatus had nothing to do with turning 30 (which is shocking given my propensity for the dramatic), but I'm happily back regardless.
I've been running as usual, but as I exited my 20s last month, I figured I should start lifting again. I stopped once racing season started in the spring, and I know the ol' metabolism isn't what it used to be back in college. Apparently running, and only running, isn't going to give me those sculpted arms and back for next summer. Who knew?
Well, Tuesday was the day. Tuesday was the day I would begin incorporated lifting back into my workout routine to build some muscle mass and keep that weight in check for the rest of my grown up life. Tuesday.
All this week was spent traveling for work, and the hotel had a very nice workout room full of plenty of free weights. Perfect. I walked down first thing in the morning with my little bottle of water, Shuffle, and filled to the brim with motivation. I spent a couple minutes stretching (my first mistake) and got to work doing all the basics. Three sets of 10: A little bicep curl, some tricep dips, a few chest flies, lunges, squats, etc using mostly 5lb hand weights. Nothing too crazy.
I neatly put everything away and spent a couple more minutes stretching. (Also, a very large mistake.) After a quick shower and productive/tiring day, I went to bed quite pleased with my morning effort. Also quite convinced I had paved the road to a lifetime of athletic success and someday cougar status.
Until the next morning and every single excruciating moment there after. Holyshit am I sore. S O R E. Like everything. It hurts when I laugh, it hurts when I sit, and don't even get me started on stairs. Screw 30, I'm like 100 right now! Worst. Idea. Ever.
What I really need to do is get out and run to kick some of this soreness, but the city has basically shut down since it's so cold and snowy here. School has been closed for three straight days. Shoot, they even shut down the mall. I hate running inside, but I'm almost desperate. Drugs and whining aren't curing me as fast as I need, and it's kind of getting embarassing trying to hobble around.