Even though I know it's just a tease, the warm weather and later sunset (well, that's not a tease) made for a pleasant evening of aerobic goodness.
Now as it turns out, perfectionism is a psychological condition. And after a very careful and highly reliable self-diagnosis via the Wikipedia article, I think I can safely state that I am perfectly pathological and neurotic. Apparently this is unhealty. All jokes aside, it makes perfect sense, then, why I feel as though I have completely failed and thus hate myself for it.
So today I instituted a new kind of workout, to force myself out of the comforting bonds of regimented scheduling, list-making and the inevitable self-deprecation. You will notice this week's schedule is blank, except for today, whose goal was to do "Something. Anything." So for two liberating miles, I did Whatever I Feel Like, henceforth known as WIFL (pronounced "wiffle"): today's WIFL in the form of completely unstructured run/walk intervals, although this was mainly due to the fact that I forgot my watch with the interval timer. And it was very nice.
I even enjoyed the running part more than I have in a very long time. Unlike a treadmill, it is more difficult to control my running pace on the road, and inevitably I start off too hard and too fast and end up feeling like if I could just keep running without my lungs exploding, maybe all the body fat will just detach from my frame by force of impact and I can kick it away into the woods. So I decided since today's goal was simply to move, I would run (jog) at what I thought would be the slowest, most pathetic pace I could muster. Which turned out to be exactly perfect.
And I returned home feeling a little cheerful, which is quite a change indeed.
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