By the time I got home Thursday night I just felt… I don’t know.  Beaten maybe.  Just like the world had sort of won and I was crushed.  From no specific thing in particular, but just that I needed recovery.  Of course I had just started P90X on Sunday and had to workout Thursday night and even crawled into bed at not a horrible hour.

When I woke up on Friday it was still there.  That dragging feeling.  That feeling of being beaten.  But I picked myself and dragged myself to work.  I had little upswings, 15 minutes here and there where I felt better, but it didn’t go away.  Friday night I worked out and got myself some 3 Cheeser Bread from Hungry Howie’s and watched movies on the couch.  I’m pretty sure if I wasn’t exercising I would have hit the whiskey right away.  But I didn’t.  I haven’t drank in a while.

This morning I feel better.  I’ve got some coffee and am planning on doing some cleaning before heading out for whatever it is I’m going to accomplish today.  But this guy… had a day and a half of just feeling completely off, beaten, or whatever you want to call it.  It sucked.  And it certainly wasn’t a fast passing time.