OK, I was feeling pretty proud of myself yesterday, because I wasn't so sore, and because (at least this is my theory) the endorphins that must have flooded my body made me forget what last Tuesday was really like.
In fact, I was sorer this morning than I was yesterday, sore enough to feel not quite so cocky about things. Sore enough to know that today's hour with J2 wasn't going to be much fun.
And it wasn't a lot of fun. Three things stand out in my mind:
1. I was much sorer today after the workout than last time. We're not talking "I got some battle wounds to tell about" sore. We're talking "I hope that young woman in the wheelchair will hold the door open for me" sore.
2. J2 asked me today if I realized that when I was lifting weights I was really destroying muscle tissue so that it would be rebuilt. I did in fact know that, but compared to what I know now, what I knew before was purely academic, ivory tower stuff. For the first time, I lifted when I was already really sore, and I felt each individual muscle cell screaming and cursing and exploding.
So now I understand the process at deeper and much more painful level.
3. I get the distinct feeling that if our goal is to build a lot of new muscle, we're just getting started with building the stuff that will support the main construction. To continue the metaphor, we're just moving in the trailer and the porta-potties, scoping out somewhere to set up the crane. That means I've only lived through the set-up phase. It's gonna get worse. I'm glad I got a few days to rest up.