I walked 6 miles yesterday, and I seriously felt the first three. The bottoms of my feet were sore from the previous day's 12 mile walk, and I was tired--almost tired enough to blow it off, but by the time I realized just how tired I was, I was out of bed and dressed, and if I'm out of bed I might as well torture myself.
I stopped at mile 3 for an early break (reasoning I was only going 6 miles, so why the hell not?) but went into Burger King for a diet coke instead of McDonald's.
I should have taken the extra 3 minutes to walk across the freaking street to McDonald's, where a dollar will get you a large soft drink, if you want a large.
At Burger King? This is what you get for a dollar:
Yeah...a drink meant for a three year old, I think. I sat there for half an hour--quite a bit longer than I normally would on a 6 mile walk--and refilled that sucker 4 or 5 times.
After that, I felt fine, and the next three miles weren't sheer hell. I perked up enough that I could have done 7-8, but a little voice in the back of my head whispered, "Don't overdo it...you don't get style points for walking yourself into exhaustion." So I headed for home and hit the door right at 6 miles.
Today I'm doing nothing. As much nothing as I can make myself do. I really should unload the dishwasher and clean a bathroom, and the rest of the house looks like it threw up on itself, but I'm sure as hell not jumping up to get any of it done. Maybe later.
Hell, it's a holiday. I'll celebrate the independence of the U.S.A. with a turkey hot dog and much Internet surfing. Besides, it's hot out. I should do nothing when it's hot out.
Shut up, I know I have working a/c...