Friday night was "Guys Night," and six friends came over to my place. We watched movies, we played cards, we talked about chicks. Good times.
Unfortunate results of Guys Night:
1) I didn't go work out on Friday because I had to clean-ish my apartment in about an hour. (Clean-ish meaning, everything that didn't have an easily-accessible "place" went into the bedroom. Much of it is still there.)
2) Pizza. Breadsticks. Ice cream. Full-calorie soda. Leftover cookies the next day.
3) Guys Night didn't end until about 4:30 a.m. I woke up just before noon, and didn't go to the gym on Saturday either.
So, yeah. Stink.
Today is my optional cross-training day, but I may take this day to run some errands so they don't get underfoot when I get back to my normal schedule tomorrow.
At any rate, I felt I needed to confess it here. End of Week 3: first blown-off gym sessions. Won't be the last, I'm sure, but they won't be common either. As fun as Guys Night was, I felt uneasy with the lack of workouts. I honestly felt guilty about it, but not toward anyone else, just myself. Like I let myself down.
And I felt pretty ill the next day from all the pizza.