My legs are completely “empty” today, nothing left in them at all. Eight runs in six days culminated, last night, in quite an intense interval session on the track.
1 mile followed by 16 x 400m. with just over a minutes recovery between each one.
Completely knackered at the end of it, but comfort myself with the [probably] deluded belief that “it’s all doing me good”.
It’s very easy to slip into the mindset that perhaps a night in front of the telly might “do me good”.
But then again, I come into the office to listen to the gut-buckets and lard asses picking apart the *cough* intricate plot twists of Eastenders or Corrie and I think to myself – “perhaps the sore legs is a price worth paying”…..