Friday morning. Grande, Quad long shot Americano, Three Quarters full. A sip to make sure the Starbucks barista made it right and fill the rest of the cup with cream… No sugar. It’s the closest thing I can find that resembles the coffee I’ve tasted in Europe. Usually, I only order it when Holly, the coffee master, is on the bar. But on Friday mornings not having the right caffeine can be life threatening. I’ll get my fix from any competent barista.
By this day of teh week, I am feeling particularly lethargic. There’s a general feeling of warm oil evaporating all over my body from my body working overtime to repair the torn muscles. On a keto diet, the repair is taking a lot longer so I am feeling the combined effect of the past four days of workout on Fridays and Saturdays. On Fridays though, I do not have the comfort of knowing that tomorrow: I.get.to.eat.EVERYTHING.
It’s hard, it’s harder than I thought. It’s harder than anyone who hasn’t gone through the same routine can imagine. Whereas before, energy comes instantaneously to do anything, on a keto diet, one seems to need to “gather” energy before attempting anything that requires a spike in energy. Getting out of bed for example takes me an hour on Fridays. The closest thing I know that can compare is the feeling after my first time running a 20km. The smallest exertion makes my breath labored.
It’s why when bros see other bros reaching the body of gods naturally, we’d always give each other that nod of acknowledgement. Pain, sweat, blood, will of iron and HUNGER. Such is the price one need to pay in order to find out…. What?… Is the limit of my body.