In the morning, the urge is to consume fresh juice. The process is arduous, so I usually revert back to the old stable of coffee and toast, or coffee and leftovers, or coffee and a Vega One shake (I realize that what I have for breakfast equates to that good friend you decide to unfollow on Instagram because her pictures of her breakfast are just too much, but bear with me). Simple sustenance. The process of juicing can seem overwhelming pre-breakfast. Just like a bear coming out of hibernation, I'm groggy in the mornings. Not mean, but impatient — especially with myself. It's also worth mentioning that I typically only get five hours of sleep, to coming out of it feels like the final episode of X-Files when Mulder is in the prison cell and the guard keeps waking him up with "No Sleeping! Tell me what you know!" I mean, not to be dramatic....
But the rhythm of picking out ingredients, cleaning, chopping, assembling the juicer, pressing, pouring, disassembling the juicer, rinsing the pieces, stacking the pieces, clearing the countertops, and drinking this incredibly powerful concoction of energy and life. It sounds like a lot of work (and it kind of is, considering the other option is to just put a slice of bread in the toaster and lather it with Earth Balance, or pour a scoop of protein powder of Vega One into a shaker bottle with 8oz of water) but it's worth it, and it starts off the day with the assertion that my time is my own, and my day is my own, and I am choosing, at least on this day, to start it on the right food.
I'm still doing P90X, and today is the rest day that ends the first 3 hard weeks of constant workouts, next week being a relative rest week. I have to admit, I did skip a few workouts, probably one or two per week, depending on how much work I had to do, especially how much poster work I had. I considered riding my bike 15 miles with 30 pounds of paper to be a decent cardio, considering the Pittsburgh hills. Yesterday, I did the workout of two days ago: Legs and Back, and while my pull-ups are starting to regain some semblance of an actual pull-up (still not there, at least not when I'm trying to bang out a lot of them), but I did not want to get out of bed this morning. It could have been all the junk food I tore through last night after the workout (we had some friends over for a fire pit and one of them brought an Amy's cheeseless pizza, my ultimate weakness, and E. made a vegan blueberry cobbler...and I also had some nonvegan ice cream, and oatmeal stout, but shhh), or it could have been that I've only been getting 4-5 hours of sleep this week as I tried to work on some writing projects, but it felt so luxurious for the first time to just put my feet up and relax in bed, rather than feeling rushed to get anyway. It's also Sunday, but I grant the most appreciation towards that great workout that told my body, hey, just stay here a while. You earned it. I know I didn't really earn anything, but it's nice to think that every once in a while, especially on a Sunday morning while still in bed.
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