So this week I was really a joy to be around. For some reason I was just tired and angry and everything was a big freaking deal! I guess my husband was grateful he was out of town last weekend because at least he had some time to miss me and maybe he used that feeling to get him through the week with me.
So I guess it was a combo cocktail of PMS, too much running, and simmering career frustration, but I was definitely not in the front running for head mistress at a charm school this week. Yesterday, as we were going to pick up my husband's car, back in the shop for the third time in as many months, and I was contemplating whether or not I could get away with killing our very responsible, honest, and sweet mechanic. I realized I had to do something different, because I look terrible in orange jumpsuits.
So despite the fact that yesterday was one of those days that reminds you why you live in the south, despite all the southern stereotypes that say run I hear banjo music I chose to take a rest day. It was a balmy 68 degree February day with bright sun and everyone including Grandmas in walkers were running down the street and our running store was hosting a group run that ended with free beer and pizza. I told my hubby go on without me; I was going to take a rest day. I know one of my New Years Goals is to try and run everyday. Well believe me I tried. I also think an unspoken New Year's goal is to not kill your neighbor because they did not pick up their sales circular out of the driveway and now it is blowing all over the road. You really do have to measure goals against a metric. I mean you can't evaluate what you don't measure.
I decided one rest day wasn't going to kill me, but I might kill someone without a rest day. So I watched meaningless TV and waited for hubby to return from his run and pizza and beer fest. Today when I woke up I got dressed at 4:30 hit the streets for my run and rediscovered both my sanity and my love of running. A rest day, just one day, and a new perspective was born. I am in the home stretch before my half a week from Sunday. There will be more consecutive days of running and then there will be that day when I just can't lace up for the public's safety and I will take a rest day and regain my burgeoning love for human kind. What pushes you to know you need to take a break?
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