Summer Of Broken Hearts.

chapter 7

Tuesday

It is the day that I start later. Not much later, but later. I woke up at five in the morning and had my black coffee, as usual. While drinking it, I scrolled through social media, just to see what people were up to. Once I finished, I changed into my workout clothes, did some warm-ups and mobility exercises, and checked the workout suggested by my watch.

The small screen showed me a twenty-minute easy run. "Twenty miserable minutes," I thought, but then I remembered how hard running five kilometers was on Sunday.

So here I am, ready to hit the road and do the twenty longest minutes of my life, or so I thought.

I started running easy. How do I know it's easy? Anyway, I ran at an easy pace—or what felt like an easy pace. Twenty minutes later, I felt a bit fatigued.

"Christ! Am I getting anywhere with this training?" I said loudly in front of my door. Luckily, my landlord didn't hear me. Or so I thought.

I took a quick shower and had avocado toast with scrambled eggs for breakfast, along with more coffee. I prepared some pasta, mostly with fresh ingredients, except for the pasta itself. I made a small bowl for me to take to work and left the rest for my landlord with a note:

"This bowl is for you, if you'd like to eat it."

I ran to the bus and hopped on. It was a busy Tuesday as usual, and Cara was dealing with some customers. I don't blame her; I feel the same way. She showed me a funny video of her son, and we couldn't stop laughing. Kids have that quality—cute and funny at the same time.

Lunch was busy too, with us handling customers and online orders. We called ourselves Team A, even though it was just the two of us.

After Cara's shift ended, I did the stock take, counting every single bag of food in the freezer and fridge. Once I finished that headache, I vacuumed the floor and mopped, then prepared the rest of the things since it was dead.

My shift finally ended, thank the lord. It felt eternal. Going back home was a total journey. It poured rain as soon as I left the shop, and the traffic was a nightmare. But nothing was better than having music and a good book around.

Wednesday

I woke up, had my coffee while checking social media, and then went upstairs to change into my workout clothes. I did some warm-ups and mobility exercises, and checked my watch. The workout was intervals: ten minutes warm-up, ten minutes cool down, and four sets of forty seconds on, three minutes off. All out during the interval. "Piece of cake, here we go!" I told myself.

So again, I hit the road. I did the workout, and this time on my way back, I felt empty. "Lord, grace me with patience, or I don't know what's wrong with me," I thought.

"I thought this shit would never end," I said while going upstairs to my room. I took a quick shower, changed clothes, did some stretching while preparing breakfast, and got ready for work.

I finished the stock take, put it in the system, and left it at 27.5. "Goodie," I chanted. Work felt quick today, so I prepared the rest of the things—cookies baking, bread baking, preps for today or tomorrow.

I felt more energetic and nobody came to order. Cara arrived and began her tasks. We chatted for a moment while working. I took my break and ate the leftovers from yesterday since my landlord didn't try it. We went through lunch, then did some cleaning.

After work, I went to the gym and then to the bank. I did a weight routine I found on the internet. Thirty minutes later, I was soaked in sweat. "Goodness me!" I thought when I saw myself looking like a tomato in the mirror. I took another quick shower and spent the rest of my evening reading and having coffee in my favorite coffee shop.

I went to Tesco, bought some food and other things for the house, and then traveled back home, listening to a podcast along the way.

Thursday

Another day like Tuesday: coffee, social media, warm-up plus mobility, and a thirty-minute easy run. "Here we go, we're increasing, lovely," said one part of my subconscious, while the other one seemed to break into a dance.

Friday

Keeping up the routine: thirty minutes workout, ten minutes warm-up and cool down, and then ten minutes threshold pace. Done. That one was a bit too much, since my legs and arms were sore from strength training plus running. I felt all the pains of the world, but I still tried to crush my job. "Oh dear, I need a break," I thought for an instant. But something told me I was on the right path.

I reserved a yoga class since I enjoyed Pilates. There wasn't a machine, so happy day. After all, I did enjoy the Pilates class, and I'm also with Mia, the girl I met in Pilates on Monday.

Today's class was fully relaxing. I could have fallen asleep and started snoring—that's when you know it's a good sleep. After class, I had coffee with Mia and some other girls from yoga. They left quickly, so I read for about twenty minutes before heading home.

What I love about Friday is that I don't need to think about cooking. I just think, "What am I going to order tonight?" while enjoying some Netflix.

Saturday

It's inevitable that I work on Saturdays, so there's no excuse to skip my marathon training. Thirty minutes easy run. After this week, I was getting used to waking up at five to get ready for my run.

After work, Sara texted me asking if I was up for some drinks. I said sure and went where she told me to go. We talked all night while drinking.

This time, the amount of alcohol I drank was right. I was tipsy but not drunk. It wasn't bad at all, unlike last time.

Sunday

I woke up at seven in the morning. I hated my life at that moment. I went to the toilet, did my business, and here we go—the test of my week. If you asked me if I was afraid, my answer would be no. Surely, I was lying. I was mortified. I stepped on the scale, closed my eyes, and counted to five. I looked down: 197 pounds. Most likely 89 kilos. "HURRAY!" chanted my head for a moment. I lost one pound. I felt much better about it.

Seeing that small progress kept my motivation on track. I was still quite sore from the week, but I felt happy because I lost a bit of weight, which is also my main goal.

Sunday's workout was a forty-minute easy run, and in that moment, I hated my life