Got back from my weekly Wednesday hockey clinic earlier and am not happy. For whatever reason, I got far more winded than I usually do during our scrimmage and basically felt like blowing chunks. It didn't help my play.
Hey, look I know I suck. But at least I usually hustle. And it just wasn't there tonight, except in a few spurts here and there. Meanwhile, one of my friends played like a man possessed who wasn't going to be denied the puck. I'm very jealous.
I suspect there were a couple of things in play. One, perhaps running 17 miles on Sunday wasn't such a good idea, especially since my left knee has a bone bruise. I'm hoping to run the L.A. Marathon in late March although that's starting to look like a silly goal given that I'm limping around half the time on the knee and my sawbones says I'm a fucking idiot to keep running on it.
Second, I worked at home today and ate like a pig all day. There was a meatball sandwich at lunch. There was at least three chocolate chip cookies. And there was the nuclear reactor sized bag of Chex Mix, which The Domestic Partner purchased at Costco. The bag spends most of its day taunting me.
Seriously, this bag is so big that I could stick my head into it. And I certainly tried. And that was before my snarf out session at 4 p.m. in which I tore into the tasty Coscto roasted chicken sitting in the fridge.
Luckily none of this ended up on the ice. But Jesus H. Christ. Come next week, I'm going back to Diet Coke and a Cliff Bar.