Ankle was crunchy today, energy a bit off.
Funny how 24 hours does that.
Lethargy hits and holds on; you take a nap and eat some fruit and get out the door anyway. Run until you feel good. Run until the crunch is gone and the lethargy dissipates. Find the high and taste it just a little; don't gorge. Stop when you don't want to, when you could keep going.
Throw a few max effort squats on top of tired legs, shake them out, fuck around with kiddie weights a bit.
I like days like this. Days when you're working exhausted fibers and tendons, torched from the previous day's scalding effort, moving on to that next layer, and then the next. Hard days get all the credit; easy days are thought of exclusively in terms of recovery, which I think is a mistake. The idea isn't merely to recover; it's to provide additional stimulus while recovering.
Maybe there's nothing glamorous about what invariably feels like slow, labored shuffling, endlessly piled before and after intermittent bouts of exhilaration and intensity; but it's an endlessly satisfying routine nonetheless, a crucible of perpetual forward motion, because really, what the hell else is there?