The Lonely Triathlete

The Power of Habits

20 min · 8. kesä 2026
jakson The Power of Habits kansikuva

Kuvaus

This year, if you could perform one behavior over and over (that you aren't currently doing) that you think would most positively impact your triathlon performance, what would that be? It would be a powerful habit, is what I think! ---------------------------------------- Come join our community at www.patreon.com/thelonelytriathlete [https://www.patreon.com/thelonelytriathlete] ---------------------------------------- TRANSCRIPT Today I want to talk about something that might be more important than your training plan, more important than your latest piece of gear, and maybe even more important than your motivation. I want to talk about habits. Because if you've been in this sport long enough, you've probably noticed something. The athletes who succeed year after year aren't necessarily the most talented. They aren't always the fastest. They aren't always the most motivated. They're often just the ones with the best habits. And that's because habits do something incredibly valuable. They reduce the number of decisions we have to make. Every decision requires energy. Should I go to bed now or watch one more episode? Should I do my workout before work or after work? Should I eat the apple or the doughnut? Should I stretch? Should I hydrate? Should I foam roll? Should I prepare tomorrow's workout? If every one of those actions requires a fresh decision every day, eventually decision fatigue wins. Life gets busy. Work gets stressful. The kids need something. The weather is lousy. And suddenly all those good intentions disappear. But habits are different. Habits automate behavior. When something becomes a habit, we stop negotiating with ourselves. We simply do it. And that's where long-term performance gains come from. Not heroic efforts. Not occasional bursts of motivation. Consistency. The compound interest of athletic performance. So today I want to walk through some of the most valuable habits a triathlete can build. Not workouts. Not race strategies. Habits. The small recurring actions that quietly improve performance over time. Before we get into the specific habits that improve performance, I want to share something. For a long time, I wrestled with the whole idea of habits. They sounded boring. They sounded restrictive. I like spontaneity. I like making decisions off the cuff. I like the feeling that I'm in control of my time and free to do whatever I want in a given moment. For years, I looked at highly structured routines and thought, "That doesn't sound like a very interesting way to live." I thought habits would make life feel scripted. Like I was following a checklist instead of actually living. But over time, I came to realize a couple of things. The first was that finding an effective action and repeating it over and over again is incredibly productive. Far more productive than constantly making mistakes and trying to reinvent the wheel. Think about triathlon training. Once you discover a workout structure that works, you don't throw it away and invent an entirely new training philosophy every Tuesday. You repeat what works. You build on it. You let consistency create results. So why wouldn't the same principle apply to sleep, nutrition, recovery, and the rest of life? The second realization was even more important. I discovered that I was already living a life full of habits. I just wasn't calling them habits. I showered at roughly the same time every morning. I ate many of the same breakfasts. I arrived at work at roughly the same time. I watched many of the same television shows. I read many of the same types of books. I followed dozens of patterns every single day without even thinking about them. In other words, habits weren't something I needed to add to my life. They were already there. The difference was that most of them had developed unconsciously. And that's when the light bulb went on. If habits already exist in my life, why not examine them? Why not identify which ones are helping me and which ones are holding me back? Why not intentionally select the habits that support my goals? Why not add the ones that are missing? Instead of letting habits happen by accident, why not consciously design them? That's when habits stopped feeling restrictive to me. They started feeling empowering. Because habits aren't really about removing freedom. They're about using today's decisions to make tomorrow easier. And for endurance athletes, that's a pretty powerful advantage. Sleep Habits Let's start with the foundation. Sleep. I know. Sleep isn't exciting. Nobody posts screenshots of their bedtime on social media. But if there was a legal performance-enhancing drug available to every athlete, sleep would probably be it. The problem is that many athletes treat sleep like whatever time is left over after everything else is done. Instead, high-performing athletes often reverse the equation. Sleep comes first. Everything else fits around it. One habit that can dramatically improve sleep quality is having a consistent bedtime. Not just on weekdays. Every day. Your body loves routine. Going to bed at roughly the same time each night trains your body to expect sleep. Another powerful habit is reducing screen time before bed. I'm not perfect at this one. In fact, I suspect many of us are not. But we all know the difference between drifting off peacefully and scrolling through social media until midnight. A third habit is preparing for tomorrow before going to bed. Lay out your workout clothes. Charge your watch. Fill your water bottle. When you wake up, there is less friction between you and the workout. And less friction means more consistency. Training Habits Now let's talk about training. Most athletes focus on the big sessions. The long ride. The key run. The hard intervals. But the athletes who improve year after year tend to have strong training habits. One of the best habits is simply protecting training time. Treating workouts like appointments. We don't skip dentist appointments because we don't feel like going. We shouldn't casually skip important workouts either. Another habit is beginning workouts at a consistent time whenever possible. If you always run at 6:00 AM, eventually your brain stops debating whether you're going. It's just what you do. The same way brushing your teeth is what you do. One habit I've come to appreciate is tracking workouts immediately after completion. A few notes. How did it feel? What worked? What didn't? Those little observations accumulate over months and years. They help us become smarter athletes. And perhaps the most important training habit of all: Show up on the days you don't feel like it. Not every workout needs to be amazing. Sometimes success is simply putting on the shoes and starting. Many workouts that begin reluctantly end up being perfectly fine. Recovery Habits Recovery is where a lot of age-group athletes leave performance on the table. We spend hours thinking about training. Minutes thinking about recovery. Yet recovery is where adaptation actually happens. One valuable habit is doing a short recovery routine immediately after training. Not someday later. Immediately. Five minutes. Stretching. Foam rolling. Walking. Whatever works for you. The key is consistency. Another habit is paying attention to recovery markers. How's your energy? How's your mood? How's your motivation? How's your resting heart rate? How are you sleeping? Elite athletes monitor recovery because they understand that training stress only creates improvement if recovery keeps pace. One recovery habit I've become a fan of is scheduling recovery before you think you need it. Not after you're exhausted. Before. Because once fatigue becomes obvious, you've often been accumulating it for quite some time. Nutrition Habits Now let's move to nutrition. If you're anything like me, you may have spent years looking for nutrition secrets. But most successful athletes aren't relying on secrets. They're relying on habits. For example, having a protein-rich breakfast. Hydrating first thing in the morning. Bringing healthy snacks to work. Eating vegetables with most meals. None of these habits are revolutionary. But together they become powerful. One nutrition habit that made a huge difference for me was becoming more aware of evening snacking. It's amazing how many calories can sneak in between dinner and bedtime. A handful of chips becomes a bowl. A bowl becomes several hundred calories. And suddenly we're wondering why training isn't producing the body composition changes we expected. Another critical habit is fueling workouts properly. Especially longer sessions. Many athletes train hard but under-fuel. Then wonder why performance stalls. Consistent fueling is a habit. Just like consistent hydration. And just like recovery. The Habit That Connects Everything There's one habit that may be more important than any other. Planning. Every successful athlete I know plans. Maybe not obsessively. But intentionally. They know when they're training. They know what they're eating. They know where recovery fits into the week. They don't leave important behaviors to chance. Because chance is usually where inconsistency lives. A few minutes of planning each week can eliminate dozens of decisions. And remember, every decision you eliminate preserves mental energy. How Do We Identify the Right Habits? So how do we decide which habits to build? Here's a simple question. What behavior, if repeated consistently for the next year, would have the biggest positive impact on my performance? Notice I didn't say biggest workout. I said behavior. Maybe it's going to bed 30 minutes earlier. Maybe it's drinking more water. Maybe it's strength training twice a week. Maybe it's eliminating late-night snacking. The best habit is often not the most impressive one. It's the one that addresses your biggest weakness. And it's the one you're actually willing to do. How Do We Turn Behaviors Into Habits? The mistake many athletes make is trying to change everything at once. More training. Better nutrition. Earlier bedtime. Daily stretching. Strength training. Meditation. Hydration. Reading. Journaling. By next Tuesday they're exhausted. So, start small. Ridiculously small. If you want to stretch more, start with five minutes. If you want to improve sleep, move bedtime earlier by fifteen minutes. If you want to hydrate better, put a water bottle where you'll see it. Make the habit easy. Attach it to something you already do. This is called habit stacking. After I brush my teeth, I stretch for five minutes. After I finish a workout, I drink a recovery shake. After dinner, I prepare tomorrow's training gear. The more automatic the sequence becomes, the less motivation is required. And that's the goal. Because motivation comes and goes. Habits stay. Closing Thoughts As triathletes, we spend a lot of time chasing breakthroughs. The perfect workout. The perfect race. The perfect piece of equipment. But most breakthroughs aren't dramatic. They're quiet. They're the result of hundreds of small actions repeated over and over again. A consistent bedtime. A prepared water bottle. A planned workout. A healthy snack. Five minutes of stretching. Nothing spectacular on its own. But together? They create the athlete you become. So this week, don't ask yourself what huge change you need to make. Ask yourself: What's one habit that future me will be grateful I started today? Build that habit. Protect it. Repeat it. And then let consistency do what consistency always does. Compound.

Kommentit

0

Ole ensimmäinen kommentoija

Rekisteröidy nyt ja liity The Lonely Triathlete-yhteisöön!

Aloita maksutta

14 vrk ilmainen kokeilu

Kokeilun jälkeen 7,99 € / kuukausi. · Peru milloin tahansa

  • Podimon podcastit
  • 20 kuunteluaikaa / kuukausi
  • Lataa offline-käyttöön

Kaikki jaksot

35 jaksot

jakson When Race Season Ends kansikuva

When Race Season Ends

What do we do when the racing season ends? Put our feet up and chill out? And lose all that hard earned fitness? Not this time. ---------------------------------------- Come join the fun at www.patreon.com/thelonelytriathlete [https://www.patreon.com/thelonelytriathlete] ---------------------------------------- TRANSCRIPT What do you do when your race season is over? I've been asking myself that question all week. For almost an entire year, my life revolved around one goal: qualify for the World Championships. Six days a week I trained. Every workout had a purpose. Every interval session, every endurance ride, every swim, every run—it all pointed toward one day on the calendar. When my alarm went off at 6:00 a.m., I didn't have to negotiate with myself. I knew why I was getting up. There was no debate. The goal made the decision for me. And after nearly a year of consistent training... I qualified. It was one of the most satisfying athletic achievements of my life. Then, because I'm human—and because my ego wasn't quite finished—I signed up for one more race. I wanted to prove to myself that qualifying wasn't a fluke. Fortunately, that race went well too. Mission accomplished. And now... The triathlon season around here is over. So now what? For years, I've handled the offseason the same way. I take the entire month of August off. No structured training. No TrainerRoad. No worrying about fitness. I sleep in. Go for casual rides. Eat a little more. Enjoy life. Honestly... It's wonderful. I think every athlete deserves periods of genuine recovery. The body needs it. The mind definitely needs it. But over the years I've noticed something. Recovery quietly turns into detraining. By September my FTP has usually dropped about thirty watts. Thirty watts doesn't sound dramatic. But here's what I've learned. The problem isn't losing thirty watts. The problem is how long it takes to earn them back. Every autumn I spend two or three months simply returning to where I was before I stopped training. Only then can I begin building new fitness. It's like climbing halfway up a mountain, hiking back down to the parking lot, and then spending weeks just getting back to the place where you turned around. This year... I don't want to do that. Instead, I'm going to experiment. Rather than stopping completely, I'm going to shift into what I'd call a maintenance phase. Just three rides each week. One longer endurance ride. Two quality sessions—threshold or VO₂ max work. The objective isn't to improve. The objective is simply to hold onto as much fitness as I reasonably can while giving both my body and mind a chance to recover. It sounds simple. But psychologically... It's proving much harder than I expected. I just got back from a five-day cycling trip with friends. And I say "cycling" in quotation marks because we were riding e-bikes at a wonderfully relaxed pace. Before I go any further, let me just say this... Seattle is an incredible cycling city. Bike lanes everywhere. Protected paths through parks. Trails beside rivers. Routes along the ocean. It feels like a city designed by people who actually ride bikes. If you've never cycled there, I highly recommend it. But once I got home... Reality hit. Only one week has passed since my last race. One week. And already I feel... Less motivated. Less fit. Which is funny because physiologically I probably haven't lost very much fitness at all. Fitness doesn't disappear in seven days. Research on endurance athletes consistently shows that most aerobic adaptations are remarkably resilient over short breaks. You may notice your legs feel a little flat, but meaningful losses in aerobic capacity and threshold power usually take several weeks—not several days—to develop. So if my body hasn't changed very much... Why do I already feel different? I think the answer has very little to do with physiology. I think it has everything to do with purpose. Sports psychologists often talk about the power of goal-directed behavior. Clear goals don't just tell us what to do—they organize our attention, our habits, and even our identity. When we know why we're training, our brains spend far less energy debating whether we should train. Motivation isn't something we magically possess. It's something our goals create. There's another concept in psychology called Self-Determination Theory. It suggests that people stay motivated when three basic psychological needs are being met: autonomy, competence, and relatedness. Autonomy means we feel we're choosing our actions. Competence means we feel ourselves improving. Relatedness means we feel connected to other people through what we're doing. During race season, triathlon checks every one of those boxes. I choose to train. Every workout gives me evidence that I'm improving. And every race connects me to a community of people pursuing similar goals. Then suddenly... The season ends. The races disappear. The training plan ends. The improvements become harder to measure. And without realizing it, one or more of those psychological needs begins to fade. No wonder motivation feels different. I don't think I'm losing discipline. I think I've temporarily lost direction. Last week I knew exactly who I was. I was someone trying to qualify for Worlds. Today... I'm just a guy standing in the garage wondering if I really need to ride the trainer tonight. That identity shift is surprisingly unsettling. I suspect many athletes experience this after a major goal. Maybe runners after a marathon. Cyclists after a gran fondo. Parents after their kids leave home. Professionals after retirement. When a chapter ends, we're left asking a surprisingly uncomfortable question: "Who am I now?" Maybe that's the real challenge of the offseason. Not maintaining fitness. Maintaining purpose. I've been thinking a lot about how to solve that. And I don't think the answer is to immediately find another massive goal. I think it's smaller than that. I think I simply need a plan. Not a vague intention. A written plan. For the next couple of months that means maintenance riding, a few local 10K races just for fun, and volunteering at some triathlon events so I stay connected to the community. After that... I'll begin building my roadmap toward next year's World Championships. But this time I want to do something I've never really done before. I'm going to write the entire thing out. The milestones. The training blocks. The recovery periods. The races. Everything. Because visible plans reduce decision fatigue. When the workout is already on paper, you don't wake up asking, "Should I train today?" You simply execute the next step. That's what goals do. They remove uncertainty. They replace motivation with routine. And maybe that's the lesson I'm learning this week. Purpose isn't something that accidentally appears. It's something we intentionally build. When one season ends, another one doesn't magically begin. We have to create it. So that's my project this week. Not increasing my FTP. Not becoming fitter. Simply creating enough structure that, when September arrives, I haven't lost the fitness—or the sense of purpose—that took an entire year to build. I'll let you know how it goes. Until next time... Peace.

21. heinä 202613 min
jakson [PREVIEW] When Race Season Ends kansikuva

[PREVIEW] When Race Season Ends

What do we do when the racing season ends? Put our feet up and chill out? And lose all that hard earned fitness? Not this time. ---------------------------------------- TRANSCRIPT What do you do when your race season is over? I've been asking myself that question all week. For almost an entire year, my life revolved around one goal: qualify for the World Championships. Six days a week I trained. Every workout had a purpose. Every interval session, every endurance ride, every swim, every run—it all pointed toward one day on the calendar. When my alarm went off at 6:00 a.m., I didn't have to negotiate with myself. I knew why I was getting up. There was no debate. The goal made the decision for me. And after nearly a year of consistent training... I qualified. It was one of the most satisfying athletic achievements of my life. Then, because I'm human—and because my ego wasn't quite finished—I signed up for one more race. I wanted to prove to myself that qualifying wasn't a fluke. Fortunately, that race went well too. Mission accomplished. And now... The triathlon season around here is over. So now what? For years, I've handled the offseason the same way. I take the entire month of August off. No structured training. No TrainerRoad. No worrying about fitness. I sleep in. Go for casual rides. Eat a little more. Enjoy life. Honestly... It's wonderful. I think every athlete deserves periods of genuine recovery. The body needs it. The mind definitely needs it. But over the years I've noticed something. Recovery quietly turns into detraining. By September my FTP has usually dropped about thirty watts. Thirty watts doesn't sound dramatic. But here's what I've learned. The problem isn't losing thirty watts. The problem is how long it takes to earn them back. Every autumn I spend two or three months simply returning to where I was before I stopped training. Only then can I begin building new fitness. It's like climbing halfway up a mountain, hiking back down to the parking lot, and then spending weeks just getting back to the place where you turned around. This year... I don't want to do that. Instead, I'm going to experiment. Rather than stopping completely, I'm going to shift into what I'd call a maintenance phase. Just three rides each week. One longer endurance ride. Two quality sessions—threshold or VO₂ max work. The objective isn't to improve. The objective is simply to hold onto as much fitness as I reasonably can while giving both my body and mind a chance to recover. It sounds simple. But psychologically... It's proving much harder than I expected. I just got back from a five-day cycling trip with friends. And I say "cycling" in quotation marks because we were riding e-bikes at a wonderfully relaxed pace. Before I go any further, let me just say this... Seattle is an incredible cycling city. Bike lanes everywhere. Protected paths through parks. Trails beside rivers. Routes along the ocean. It feels like a city designed by people who actually ride bikes. If you've never cycled there, I highly recommend it. But once I got home... Reality hit. Only one week has passed since my last race. One week. And already I feel... Less motivated. Less fit. Which is funny because physiologically I probably haven't lost very much fitness at all. Fitness doesn't disappear in seven days. Research on endurance athletes consistently shows that most aerobic adaptations are remarkably resilient over short breaks. You may notice your legs feel a little flat, but meaningful losses in aerobic capacity and threshold power usually take several weeks—not several days—to develop. So if my body hasn't changed very much... Why do I already feel different? I think the answer has very little to do with physiology. I think it has everything to do with purpose. Sports psychologists often talk about the power of goal-directed behavior. Clear goals don't just tell us what to do—they organize our attention, our habits, and even our identity. When we know why we're training, our brains spend far less energy debating whether we should train. Motivation isn't something we magically possess. It's something our goals create. There's another concept in psychology called Self-Determination Theory. It suggests that people stay motivated when three basic psychological needs are being met: autonomy, competence, and relatedness. Autonomy means we feel we're choosing our actions. Competence means we feel ourselves improving. Relatedness means we feel connected to other people through what we're doing. During race season, triathlon checks every one of those boxes. I choose to train. Every workout gives me evidence that I'm improving. And every race connects me to a community of people pursuing similar goals. Then suddenly... The season ends. The races disappear. The training plan ends. The improvements become harder to measure. And without realizing it, one or more of those psychological needs begins to fade. No wonder motivation feels different. I don't think I'm losing discipline. I think I've temporarily lost direction. Last week I knew exactly who I was. I was someone trying to qualify for Worlds. Today... I'm just a guy standing in the garage wondering if I really need to ride the trainer tonight. That identity shift is surprisingly unsettling. I suspect many athletes experience this after a major goal. Maybe runners after a marathon. Cyclists after a gran fondo. Parents after their kids leave home. Professionals after retirement. When a chapter ends, we're left asking a surprisingly uncomfortable question: "Who am I now?" Maybe that's the real challenge of the offseason. Not maintaining fitness. Maintaining purpose. I've been thinking a lot about how to solve that. And I don't think the answer is to immediately find another massive goal. I think it's smaller than that. I think I simply need a plan. Not a vague intention. A written plan. For the next couple of months that means maintenance riding, a few local 10K races just for fun, and volunteering at some triathlon events so I stay connected to the community. After that... I'll begin building my roadmap toward next year's World Championships. But this time I want to do something I've never really done before. I'm going to write the entire thing out. The milestones. The training blocks. The recovery periods. The races. Everything. Because visible plans reduce decision fatigue. When the workout is already on paper, you don't wake up asking, "Should I train today?" You simply execute the next step. That's what goals do. They remove uncertainty. They replace motivation with routine. And maybe that's the lesson I'm learning this week. Purpose isn't something that accidentally appears. It's something we intentionally build. When one season ends, another one doesn't magically begin. We have to create it. So that's my project this week. Not increasing my FTP. Not becoming fitter. Simply creating enough structure that, when September arrives, I haven't lost the fitness—or the sense of purpose—that took an entire year to build. I'll let you know how it goes. Until next time... Peace.

21. heinä 20265 min
jakson Triathlon Injuries and the Five Stages of Grief kansikuva

Triathlon Injuries and the Five Stages of Grief

We all get injured and we all deal with it differently. It recently occurred to me that I seem to go through stages of grief when I am injured. And I don't make the best decisions for my long term health until I reach the last stage. ---------------------------------------- Join the fun at www.patreon.com/thelonelytriathlete [https://www.patreon.com/thelonelytriathlete] ---------------------------------------- TRANSCRIPT Triathlon Injuries and The 5 Stages of Grief Today I want to use the 5 Stages of Grief as a framework to talk about how we, as triathletes, often experience injuries. The Five Stages of Grief weren't actually created to explain sports injuries—or even the grief we feel after someone dies. They were originally observations of people facing their own mortality. Modern psychology tells us grief isn't nearly that tidy. But I've found those five emotions to be a surprisingly useful lens for understanding what happens in my own head every time an injury threatens a session or perhaps a season. As a quick recap, 3 weeks before my end of June race, I hurt my back. And I mean, I really hurt it. I had to take 8 complete days away from training and there were a few moments where I entertained the possibility that I might not be able to race in the World Championship qualifying race that I had been training for for 9 months. With all of my focus on rest, recovery, nutrition, medical attention and every marginally effective treatment I could think of, I managed to get to a place where I thought I might be able to race pain-free. And then, on the Friday before the Sunday race I hurt a different part of my back or neck. Once again, I faced difficult emotions but with luck on my side (and a million units of pain killer in my system) I managed to perform an all-time best race and secure my invitation to join Team Canada and represent at the World Triathlon Championships in Germany next year. My plan was to recover this past week, then get in some short hard efforts next week and once again race a Standard Distance here in Victoria. A race where I came 2nd in my category last year. Yet when I woke up this morning, I had difficuly walking due to a really sore hip. So, once again, I am forced to take extra time off for injury. And it reminded me that I seem to go through the same emotional journey every single time I get injured. I don't think it's just disappointment—I think it's grief. Not grief because someone died, but grief because, in a way, the athlete I thought I was for the next few weeks suddenly disappeared. So, what are the 5 Stage of Grief? And remember, we don't always go through them all and we don't necessarily go through them in a linear order. Stage 1: Denial "I'll be fine." My typical thoughts: It's just tight. I'll loosen up tomorrow. I'll still do my long run. Maybe I'll just bike instead. As triathletes, or simply very motivated people, we often tend to ignore warning signs because training has taught us to push through discomfort. No pain, no gain, right? And if you are anything like me, you've probably Googled 'Can I run on a torn [blank]?' hoping the internet says yes. You know who you are. Stage 2: Anger "This isn't fair." This is where frustration appears. Examples: Why now? I was finally getting fit. Everyone else is training. I did everything right. The timing is unbelievable! If you find yourself in this stage my advice to you would be to avoid social media because it can be almost unbearable to see friends and competitors on Strava crushing their workouts. Stage 3: Bargaining This is probably the funniest stage. "If I only run easy..." "What if I skip intervals and do some Base work instead?" "I'll wear compression sleeves." "I'll ice it." "I'll take one more recovery day." "I'll only run downhill." This is where athletes become expert negotiators with themselves. Now, there is nothing wrong with trying to find a logical, reasonable compromise to work around an injury but realize this is a very dangerous place to be. There is a fine line between "getting through an injury" and "making it much worse". Stage 4: Sadness This is the hardest part. The realization sets in: I'm going to lose fitness. That race might be over. My routine is gone. My identity takes a hit. We feel this way because training isn't just exercise — it's structure, stress relief, community, and confidence. Losing it feels much bigger than just missing a workout. Finally, Stage 5: Acceptance This is where good decisions FINALLY happen. Instead of asking: "How do I save this race?" You begin asking: "What's the smartest way forward?" Examples: Seeing a physiotherapist. Following a rehab plan. Adjusting goals. Cross-training. Sleeping more. Letting HEALING become the training. I've noticed that I can't skip straight to LOGIC. My brain wants to BARGAIN first. It wants to find shortcuts and loopholes. But eventually I reach acceptance, and that's when I actually start making good decisions. The sooner I recognize the emotional process, the sooner I stop fighting reality and start healing. I think it's been the realization that I need to go through these stages of grief when I am injured that have allowed me to stay calmer, cooler, less emotionally charged from my recent setbacks. It isn't easy at any level but the more quickly I move to acceptance, the more quickly I can begin to heal. And while we can't always control how quickly we get to that level the mere fact of recognizing what is happening to us emotionally is one of the biggest pieces of that puzzle. So, if you're injured right now, maybe give yourself a little grace. You might not just be dealing with sore muscles—you might be grieving the session, sessions or even season you thought you were going to have. That's normal. Just don't make permanent training decisions based on TEMPORARY EMOTIONS. Until next time, Peace

6. heinä 202612 min