I had been doing so well! I was 22 days into the 100 I was aiming for. I had upped my exercise time and intensity; I was determined... and then I sneezed.
Once, twice, ten times. Hard sneezes. My hubby wondered if I had an allergy, but I don't.
As the day wore on, I started feeling very, very poorly. Fever. Blocked sinuses. By evening, I was totally miserable. I spent the next four days on Tylenol and Mucinex. Exercise was out of the question. The fifth day, I finally felt better. But the next day we were leaving for a long weekend, so it wasn't worth it to go to the gym for just one day...
After the long weekend, my arms and back were sore from water skiing. So, no gym. By the time I got over that, I had totally lost all my momentum. I was gym-free for the rest of that week, too.
The crazy thing is, that after months of exercising and eating right, without losing a single little pound, not an ounce, in those two weeks that I didn't exercise and I was eating whatever I felt like, I lost five pounds, at last. Does that make sense?
Here's what I think: my body is so well programmed to hold on to its weight, that it struggled to hang on through all that exercise and dieting. But when I upped the exercise, my body just couldn't keep up with the calorie burn any longer. Even so, it fought all the way. At last I broke through the threshold and began to lose weight, but my body fought so hard it made me sick!
The next thing was to get started exercising again. Not an easy task. But that's what we do, isn't it! We fall. We get up. We brush of the dust. We start again.
Saturday, I met with my running club. That's the upside of belonging to a small, close-knit group like ours. It's more than a running buddy; it's ten running buddies. And if nothing else, I have my pride. So there I was, 6:30 a.m. Saturday morning. We meet, we run, we meet again. We have different levels of skill (they are all better runners than I am), so I sometimes end up running alone. At least I was spared the embarrassment of anyone witnessing my sorry little jog!
Fifteen minutes into the run, I felt utterly sick, and had to make for the nearest restroom, another half hour away. I almost didn't make it, I tell you! I toyed with the idea of turning around and going back--by that time I was well past the half-way time for the run--but I was stubborn enough to go ahead and head up the hill and on to finish my route.
I got back to our meeting place 20 minutes late. My friends were waiting, welcomed me, chatted for just a bit and then we all headed home. I was tired, but satisfied. It had been a rough day, a rough run, and I didn't beat any PR's. But I had gone out and I had done my 8.5 miles. I congratulated myself.
The dust was off. Day one of one hundred.
Yours for a happier, healthier life,
The Jogging Grandma
