How do I keep ending up in here? And why aren't there snacks in this locker?
Experts recommend active recovery -- getting the blood flowing with a walk or jog, or an easy spin on your bike to clear out some of the OW THIS HURTS -- at times like this. But you're so wasted that you're texting friends and asking them to deliver carryout directly to your couch.
Perhaps if you get a separate address for your couch, you can have pizza delivered there?
Since you don't have the oomph for real active recovery, go ahead and sit around (after your dog brings you your laptop) and consider why the following should totally count as active recovery for you right now:
One more climb
You spent the weekend climbing yourself into a bloody, battered pulp. It was awesome.
Now, you're working hard at one last climb -- out of bed.
This morning, you pushed off your pillow (base camp) onto your two feet (camp two), then proceeded to step over your dog (the pass) and finally made it to the bathroom (the summit!).
It was a major effort and should count as "recovery climbing."
You ran the Bolder Boulder on Monday. You were so psyched about the run that you set a PR, personal record. By a lot. Wow! You tore it up out there! Nice work!
Now, though, you're setting a new PR -- for ibuprofen consumption.
Perhaps this isn't the best thing for you. And you're not sure which is worse -- this PR, or Monday afternoon, when you were setting a PR for Pepto Bismol consumption after eating and drinking virtually everything anyone handed you on the Bolder Boulder course. (You saved a marshmallow from mile 2ish for the bacon house at mile 5ish because you had this gourmet instinct that they'd go together, like a new version of the Tee and Cakes bacon cupcake...but you were wrong.)
So many PRs. One should count for active recovery of some sort. Especially since the walk to the medicine cabinet requires a lot of motivation at this point
You rode the Iron Horse Bicycle Classic this weekend. You get why your legs are tired. But why are your arms also so tired that when you started moving stuff around in your fridge to find the beer you wanted, your arms got sore?
You were kind of winded, too. And you groaned as you opened the refrigerator door. And you drank your beer on the kitchen floor because you couldn't make it back to the couch.
And as you lifted the beer to your lips, it felt an awful lot like lifting weights. Cheers to active recovery.
Sleep is good recovery, too, you know.