Killing it…

Today marks the 5th day of training in a row and I did a double workout at UNLV. While this is not new to me and I am not flying around the track it is hard on me with the many things that are physically wrong with me.

Yesterday was real damn hard. I was finally able to donate plasma but I donated mainly red blood as my blood was too thick and oxygen rich and they could not return it. This made me weak as all hell. But I had a lot to do and I was not letting anything slow me down. I knew I needed some sugar and I wolfed down both OJ and Powrade and 16 OZs of water. I felt shitty but better and headed out. I was so out of it I forgot my bike lock and my headset, which powers me through hard days.

I hardly ever get into a “comfort zone” like many distance runners unless I can train distance and I simply do not want to push through the agony I would go through to run as slow as I would as besides all else, I have pride and a 5 minute mile is a warmup to me in a little bit of shape so a 3 plus minute half would be bad all over.

I did actually get somewhat comfortable during training yesterday and expected a bad night after lugging clothes to the laundromat, but I was pleasantly surprised. Then 5AM hit and I guess my wallmate, the little girl (around14) in the next apartment started playing music and I was screwed as I lost 75 needed minutes that would effect concentration later in the day. I took advantage and did a light workout, showered and went to work.

There are a lot of tools there and a few think they know something about betting horses, horses in general and are plain stupid and come at post and rattle off quick bets changing amounts, horse numbers and types and get mad if you do not keep up as they are not even facing you. One dickhead talks shit about my boss and I have him recorded several times and is a smug douche. He decides to bet a house bet at post that can’t be voided and the fucker said you messed it you are gonna eat it. I was about to say give me your other tickets, I am giving you back your fucking money and eat them too. Mind you he loses 80 percent of his bets and the times he cashes he doesn’t get even for the bets for the most part. Mind you my machine and all of them sometimes freeze up, turn a straight bet into a box or will not go through, especially when constantly changing amounts and types, it really sucks. Plus all damn day my fingers cramped horribly all shift.

So, I had more to do sprinted up the 60 degree incline hill pissed waiting to go sprint. I was more than happy with the effort. That will be in my next post.

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