It was announced recently that wrestling, one of the original Olympic events(!) is being eliminated. WTF?
In honor of a legit and homoerotic sport, I had a major wrestling match yesterday.
Me vs. Me
Round one was in bed when I woke up. Neither Me could decide what type of run to do. The Me’s engaged in an endless debate between tempo and intervals (pyramid or fartlek?!) that continued through dressing, teeth brushing, and deodorizing. I dragged us into the car and headed to Alameda.
As I circled for parking, Me told me to turn around and head home. And to stop at Burger King for a ham and cheese biscuit, no egg thankyouverymuch. Me calmly explained to Me that no, we had a day off on Monday and it was time for a run. Round 1 went to Me and we got out of the car to begin a 3 mile tempo run.
(Are we confused yet? Try being me. Or Me.)
We all headed out for Round 2. Too fast. The pace felt good but we all knew that it would be a struggle to sustain. Me suggest that we do the first two miles at tempo and cool down in the third. Me called Me a weenie and reminded us that the point of this run was to struggle. To hurt. To get comfortable with being uncomfortable. Embrace the pain. It’s temporary. Success is FOREVAHH!!!
(Me has clearly spent too much time looking at inspirational mantras on Pinterest…)
And hurt we did. Whenever Me wanted to abandon the workout, Me begged us not to. In the third mile when our heart was exploding and Me strongly urged us to take a brief waking break, Me put Me in a headlock and kept Me at bay until the run was DONE.
And we all won.
(Cue 80’s sitcom audience “awwww”)
When both Me’s are equally matched, how does one edge out the other?