Note
slept:7.0 (rest day)
Rest after Pawtuckaway and strength. My legs feel like jelly, though unfortunately not the kind of jelly you can put on toast. I had a recovery pizza, and I will attack the rest of the week with renewed vigor. I am still failing to attain my goal of 8 hours of sleep per night. I often set optimistic alarms, with bold visions of getting to work by 7:30, going for a run at 6:30, etc. When my body wakes to deactivate my alarms, in my barely conscious stupor, my will is insufficient to overcome my body's complete disregard for my wishes. It's as if my brain were to say "Well, we could conform to your best laid plans and delusions of grandeur, or maybe we'll just go back to bed for another hour instead. Yeah. I'm going to need you to come in on Saturday, etc."
