Yesterday was one of my “blue” days. It started out with me spending hours on a work project that should have taken only an hour or two… Actually it ended there, too, because the work project sucked my day dry. At a certain point I knocked off, not because I was done, but because I was done! I should have gone out for a run. Or maybe even a walk. There was plenty of daylight even.
I had been sitting in my chair all day and I knew what I was supposed to do. I even knew I would feel better if I did it. But I just didn’t want to. And I didn’t want to feel bad about it either.
I do my steps every day… or most days. If I do miss a day it is because I’m sick, or work crazed, or life crazed. Like the other night where I was in my car for 8 hours, at a friends party for 5 hours, and missed my step goal by 200 because I actually ran out time. (Just like Cinderella, my fitbit resets at midnight).
This was different. I really wanted, craved inactivity. I didn’t want to clean, cook, work, run, or do anything productive. Most of the time I shake it off and do what I’m supposed to. But yesterday I didn’t. I wallowed. I vegged. I made like bread and loafed about. I danced the couch potato… (Yeah, that’s all I have)
I was guilty about it as I was doing it. I thought, you could just shake it off and get going, you know. I reminded myself that the rest of the week would be harder. But I did it anyway. And by the end of the night I didn’t even feel bad about it anymore.
And guess what. Nothing happened. The sky didn’t fall. The earth didn’t shatter. I actually feel just fine today. I got back to work, finished my project, ate my correct food, ran 2.25 miles and will somehow manage to get my steps in by the end of the day.
So I’m over the guilt. (Baby steps)