still eating like a raccoon with a debit card. still saying yes to the last beer at the last minute like my future self isn’t the one running 16k on saturday morning while apologizing to his own knees. i have made zero smart athlete decisions this entire training block, and honestly, i considered that a personal brand.

then a few things happened that i’m choosing to call “data” instead of “my body sending a formal warning.”

a pace that used to feel easy started feeling like i owed someone money and interest. i showed up to F45 the morning after a night out and my coach looked at me the way you look at a dog that just ate something off the sidewalk and is now very proud of itself. strava started handing me recovery scores that read less like fitness metrics and more like a passive-aggressive note from a roommate.

so here’s the thing i’m slowly, grudgingly coming around to, against my will: this was never really about the diet or the drinking. it’s age. i took three years off running and came back assuming my body would just reopen the tab where i left it. instead it’s acting like the tab crashed, the wifi’s down, and also who even are you.

the guy who used to run on four hours of sleep and a gas station muffin does not appear to still work here. i think he retired. i think he retired without telling me.

anyway, no, i am not meal prepping. no, i’m not quitting beer. this isn’t that blog and i’m not that guy. i’m just… noticing things now. filing them away. mostly still ignoring them. will report back after waterfront, assuming my knees allow it.