I survived Week 5! And with zest and zeal, I might add.
So now, I’m on Week 6, which started with a pleasantly light run yesterday.
Rather than wax philosophical about the workout itself, I’ll instead tell you about what it did for me.
Guys, I’m stressed out.
I mean REALLY stressed out.
The type of stress that makes you teary, in need of hugs, and unable to answer simple questions about your day without seizing up and tensing and saying, literally, “I CAN’T.”
I am really, really worn thin at this point in the semester.
Thankfully, Chelsea and the cats are wonderful and so is my family, and so are my friends. But that doesn’t really make the days that much easier to force my way through, you know?Yesterday was a truly bad day. I felt like all my responsibilities were crashing down around me with the force of a typhoon — it gave the sense of there being no light at the end of the tunnel. Exhausted. Fatigued. Three cold sores. A fever. A bad day. I HAD HAD IT WITH MYSELF.
When I got home from my last leg of the day, Chelsea agreed to heat up supper (we were having leftover lentil soup) while I went for my run.
I went down into the basement defeated and withered after a crappy, brow-beating day.
I came back up after my run feeling relaxed, more in-control, relieved, and grateful for the chance to reconnect with my body BEYOND all the stress it’s been enduring.
Shock of shocks: I actually found comfort in my run, and not for the first time.
If you’d told me six weeks ago that by mid-March I’d find my daily run to be a comfort, I’d have laughed at you.
Perhaps I don’t know myself that well after all.
And perhaps that is a good thing.