This weekend I pushed it pretty hard with the workouts. Friday night (after a week where my brain had been totally converted to a mushy goo after 50 hours of business tripping, project budgeting, and general workyness) I ran, which was a nice little stress relief and Saturday I did a leg and swimming work out. I had to stop half way through my weight training because I pulled a ligament in my knee. Darryl was on the machine next to me and was trying to coach me on how to do the exercise. I knew how to do the exercise, I just put too much weight on the machine and was in a lot of pain. But Darryl kept going on and on about how to do it, which was sweet and I would typically appreciate this sort of input from him, but he wasn't hearing the key issue at hand so I practically yelled at him "WHAT I AM TRYING TO TELL YOU IS THAT I'M HURT, SO BAD, THAT WE MIGHT NEED TO STOP IMMEDIATELY AND GO HOME."
That seemed to get through to him, so he suggested I try walking it off, which I did, successfully. So then we swam for 40 minutes. It's a good thing I didn't finish my leg workout, because Sunday, I was pretty sore from what I did do. Now, a normal person would probably take the day off, but instead I went back to the gym Sunday morning, worked my upper body, and then did a bike/run brick. My quads were so sore, I could barely stand stretching them before starting.
So my confession for this Monday? My quads are so sore, that I can no longer sit on a toilet seat without the help of a grab bar. I will be using the handicapped bathroom at work because at home, I have no handle and I have to A) stretch before attempting to pee and B) lower myself onto the toilet seat by grabbing onto it and doing some sort of acrobatic move to lower myself down that would rival things I've seen in a Cirque Du Soleil show. And this is how I'm faring AFTER Advil.