Today was my first workout in almost a week, and I was dreading it. Last week, in the throes of a mysterious bout of exhaustion, I decided to forgo my Zumba class in favour of getting to bed really early and getting some sleep. And sleep I did, for almost 24 hours, getting up only to use the bathroom, and eat a couple of bowls of soup. And after a frantic Friday spent catching up on my backlog at work, I was grateful for the long Columbus Day weekend, most of which I spent in bed, in a near-comatose state.
You would think that I would have leaped from my bed this morning bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and ready to take on the world. But alas, my tail was not the least bit bushy, in fact, it was dragging. It dragged all day, impervious to all the caffeine I consumed and all the internal motivational speeches I gave myself. I forced myself to the gym tonight, and pounded out my hour on the treadmill, fighting all the way.
I'd like to thank my fellow gym-members for not calling the guys with the butterfly nets to come get me, as I cursed, grumbled and begged myself not to quit, while visions of fluffy pillows and plush blankets danced in my head. Even after I left the gym, I continued to grumble still, as I slogged through the grocery shopping, and shoved some randomly selected food items into the oven (not at all sure how that little experiment is going to turn out).
But hey, if I've got enough energy to do all this complaining, I can't be that tired, right? I guess I'm making progress..
Today's magic number : 59