Anyone who’s ‘taken a break’ from a workout regimen to return a few weeks (or in my case, months) later, will be familiar with the first post-workout torture. Don’t get me wrong, I like some soreness after a workout as much as anyone—an indication that yes, the workout challenged me and the muscles got some real exercise. That I consider “positively sore”. But there’s a line beyond which it’s just not that fun.
Then, it’s just “prohibitively sore”: when I can’t sleep because it hurts just to roll over in bed. When I’m late for work because washing my hair was surprisingly painful or it took me an extra bit of time to get up/down those stairs. They say working out gives you energy and helps you focus, but on prohibitively sore days, I find trying to stretch out sore muscles and/or complaining to friends and colleagues doesn’t do much for the day’s to-do list.
Of course, the problem with these scenarios is that I know I get myself into them by not keeping up with the routine. The torture is actually just punishment for my lack of self-discipline. It’s almost enough to keep me going. Almost.
After all, while not so funny or productive for me, this excruciating soreness is reliably good for one thing: Making my husband chuckle.
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