I’m usually sunshine and roses on the blog–and to be fair, I’m mostly that way in life. It’s not an act. But I do have bad days, and I struggled with putting this out there. But hey, maybe it will be helpful to someone else who is having a bad day. So there’s that.
Monday was great…until I tried to go for a run. The goal was simple: my now standard 5k after work. It was hot and muggy, but despite my husband’s complaints, it didn’t feel awful to me. Certainly not discernibly different from all the other times I’ve run in the heat and humidity after work. Work was fine, I had my snack, I took an ibuprofen to dull the muscle ache so I could get through my workout. Normal. I changed my clothes, drove to the park, warmed up, and got started. And within the first half-mile I knew 5k shouldn’t happen. Despite the dose of IB my hip and IT bands were letting me know it wasn’t cool and they needed a break. So I finished the mile, mostly walking. Normally, I’m okay with this. It’s a process, progress is progress, blah blah blah. Monday, however, I was pissed. PISSED. I was beyond irritated that I couldn’t just run three days in a row. I was asking my body for 10 miles over 3 days, I feel like I should’ve been able to manage that. And the fact that my body just wasn’t ready to do that brought up every single negative thought and feeling I’ve ever had in my life. I couldn’t do something simple, that I felt I should have been able to do, and I felt so weak, and out of control. In that moment all of my work, all of my progress so far meant nothing because I couldn’t get through that run. I went home, I finished my workout, and I fought with my husband over stupid things because I was just pissed and in the mood to be pissed. The negativity inside me was so overwhelming that anger was the only emotion I could safely access.
I bounced around the house, getting done what I needed to get done, apologized to my husband (who quickly realized this wasn’t about him, even though I couldn’t exactly tell him what it was about because at that moment I couldn’t articulate it) and went to bed. I was exhausted. And I slept hard. I actually slept through my first alarm completely, waking up just moments before my second alarm was set to go off. That never happens. And I wish I could say that sleep: the human reset button, had worked. Usually it does. This time it didn’t. I was only marginally better in the morning. I was less angry, to be sure, but I was still irritated and in a negative place emotionally. I got myself ready for work, minor irritations and annoyances seemed to fill my morning. And then I got to work. And realized my gym bag was at home. Too late to go back and get it. I couldn’t ask my husband to waste 2 hours in traffic later in the day just to bring it to me. Nowhere nearby that I could get all the things I would need to cobble together an outfit for class, let alone no money or time for that. So I had to cancel. And for awhile I was pissed about that. And then I accepted that the universe was sending me a sign–I need to rest. I need to ease up on my body a bit. Give it a break. When I accepted that, I calmed down. Last night I took a short easy walk with my husband for some active recovery (because I couldn’t just not do anything), and today I’ll try running again after work.
Moral of the story–bad days happen. To all of us. It’s not all kittens and rainbows. But you keep going and persevere. Take the signs that the universe is sending. Adjust your sails and move on.