Dry fasting is tough, eighteen hours in.
An utter thirst grinds the upper part of your tongue crying for satisfaction.
Maybe the pain is imaginary.

Gym session, knocking at 3 kilometre sprints.
Climbing sessions at 3%,
Spun out 75GI at 25mph.

Pain, and I ask myself: why am I doing this?
I could jus’ be at home kicking a few burgers back and enjoying the sun.
Bliss.

Could be.
Should be?
Can’t be.

So no,
Here we go again.
Then thirst wails all over again.

Drink.
Water.
Now.