So… Uhhh… yeah. This musical title is kind of self-explanatory. You may sing it while doing the Gangam Style dance, or simply standing about stylishly in leopard print.
The last few days has seemed a little hectic (read: A lot), and for good measure. Its Christmas, yo, and I have two kids, a husband, a full time job AND fitness to think about. Let’s not talk about the party we just had, gift shopping, the lack thereof of funds to do so, and the fact that my Visa was jacked last week and I have to wait for a new one to come in the mail.
So I’m feelin’ a lil’ cranky.
*cue first world problem tiny violin playing here*
Our Annual Open House was lovely again this year, and despite the anxiety and stress I exude beforehand as we prepare, it was a lot of fun. However, my balanced, healthy eating plan not only went out the window, but it went down the street and got hit by a car trying to cross to the Tim Hortons for a cheddar cheese bagel with a slab cream cheese oozing out. (ohhh sooo hungry right now….) Man, my carb load was intense. I totally overdid it, and I am paying for it. The roast beef was worth it, and so was the cheese tray, the chocolate macaroons, and the really, really good butter rolls. *drool*
I also did a stupid thing. I completely, 100% forgot to take my Diabetes medication on Saturday, Sunday, and yesterday morning. Total mind blip. A lot on my mind, not only with getting the house presentable (read: fingerprints off the fridge, clutter pushed away into a closet, and Cheerios unstuck from the floor), I was thinking about Newtown, Connecticut. Like so many others, it affected me in such a deep, unbelieving way. I spent most of Friday afternoon and evening chasing my children down to hug and kiss and cuddle them. I spent some of Saturday in disbelief and random tears as I read more details. On Sunday, we learned about a family here in Ottawa who, two weeks after welcoming their new baby into the family, lost their husband/Dad tragically.
I was shaken to the core as I packed up baby clothes and bought some size 1 diapers to drop off for this family going through a worst-case nightmare, sobbing as I folded tiny newborn onesies and pants. All ideas of routine and remembering important stuff went away. By Sunday night I was physically, emotionally, and mentally exhausted.
As well, Sunday morning, after getting to bed super late cleaning from said party, I got up and went for a run. Yeah, I know… What? Crazy woman. 6.5k felt like much much more, and it was really, really cold. Thank God I had a partner to run with me who was amenable to me being wimpy and needing a break halfway (Ohhh Bridgehead coffee….). I felt awful for not wanting to keep going. I felt disappointed in myself for not running better. I was not forgiving of myself for only having a few hours sleep, a lot of bad-for-me food the day before, and being up early in the cold -15 wind chilled morning to run.
(aside: It was fun to run along Byron Avenue, on a trail I have wanted to run for months now. That was great! Running through the pine trees, listening to them creak a little in the wind, seeing the seed pods and cones scattered on the shiny skiff of snow was a tiny natural oasis in the middle of a fairly dense urban area. I want to do that again. With more sleep the night before.)
I got home from that run and everything hurt in one of those ways that usually means I am walking like Quasi-Modo until the pain relief kicks in. I had not yet clued in that I had missed taking my meds, and this was likely the reason for the dragging-my-buttitis.
Hence, because of the crazy weekend, yesterday and today I am a draggy, cranky, sourpuss mess. Yesterday I was going to work out but got so overwhelmingly tired I had a nap. Today, I stomped off to the gym, hoping to get a run in on the Dreadmill, cursing the slush and gush foiling my outside running plans. The whole workout felt wrong. I was stiff, achy, tired, and my feet hurt. No matter what I did, my calves were cramping, my feet were aching, and my shins were screaming. I did a 1/2 hr of run+walk at 15% grade in equal installments, did some plank and squats, and then called it a (crappy) day. I almost cried as I walked back to the change rooms.
It was a sucky workout and I am pouting right now, and mad at myself for feeling so cranky when I shouldn’t be because I have the whole world in my hand, my family is healthy, and it is Christmas. I am also feeling the need to eat my way through this bad mood. Thank God I only have a salad left in my lunch bag. I will devour it and be happy about it, $%&*.
I did it to myself, and I know it. I need to be more careful, take my medication, eat better. I have to! I have a 10k to run this Saturday, and then again on the 31st! I have to be in good spirits and fresh. I also know that when emotional stress takes hold, I need more reminders to take my medication, and not be so hard on myself. I must do better.
I also know that I have nothing to complain about in the larger sense. Simply because I am here to complain about it to you folks, and tonight, I get to go home and read a story to my son, sing Wheels on the Bus with my daughter, tuck them into bed, and hug my husband.
I am blessed. I may be a cranky-pants right now, and beating myself up for not taking my meds, eating poorly, and having a crappy workout… But I am blessed.