Running is literally making my glutes die. I tried bringing them back from life support with ton of bar work and exactly 150 squats a few days ago. Squatting in a cat shirt will make you feel like a bad man. Or a man ridiculed by your wife. In my case, precisely both.
One day in to this blog de jog streak and imperfect progress has been made. A Wednesday night run is in the books for the first time in 3 weeks. Not the hour I had wanted to knock out, but 30 solid minutes of actual bipedal locomotion, nonetheless. I’ll take it.
I’ve been averaging about 8-9 hours of training a week; ~50’ish miles and 5000-5500 feet of climbing, which is fine. I’ll stumble into the finish of any race with that volume. But it’s not enough to really be comfortable with getting after it a bit at Zion. Efforts must be doubled. Nay, re-doubled. It’s time to crank this thing up to 11.