Leg day, 5AM, and the discovery of muscles I didn't order

Tuesday. 5AM, like every gym morning. And today the plan says one beautiful thing: leg day, no run. My favourite words in the training programme, second only to “rest day.”

We did everything. If a muscle is even loosely affiliated with the concept of a leg, it got attention this morning. Quads, hamstrings, calves, the whole committee. At one point I became aware of a muscle located somewhere in the diplomatic zone between my hips and my backside — a muscle I had never formally met, had no idea was on the payroll, and which announced its existence this morning with great enthusiasm. Pleasure to finally know you. Please stop.

By the end my legs had the structural integrity of Christmas jelly. You know the dessert — jelly and custard, the way it wobbles when you carry the bowl. That was me, walking to the car. A man made mostly of dessert.

And here’s the part I’m quietly proud of. Later this morning, that familiar little voice piped up — maybe a light walk? Keep the streak going? And I looked down at my jelly legs and said, out loud, to no one: “heavy leg day plus no-run day is how I win the Comrades.”

Then I laughed, because it sounds ridiculous. But it’s also true.

This is the deal I made with the plan. The heavy legs I build in the gym now are the same legs that have to survive 89 kilometres of downhill next June — and a down-run punishes quads more than anything. So today’s session isn’t separate from Comrades. It is Comrades training, just the version that happens indoors, at 5AM, and leaves you walking like a newborn giraffe. No run today, and no guilt about it. The legs did their work. Tomorrow they’ll thank me, or at least stop filing complaints.

Christmas jelly. Building a payments empire and running a marathon on legs made of Christmas jelly. We move.