A Day of Rest

When I used to run two to three days a week, I had more days of rest than days of running in a week. 

The math is fairly complicated so you'll just have to trust me.

Now that I faithfully run four days a week and cycle one, a day of rest has become a precious commodity.  My body and my soul look forward to them the way a kid can't wait for ice cream or Santa Claus.

Monday is my day of rest.

On Mondays, I don't have to worry about what I eat.  I don't have to say no to an afternoon snack because I don't want to take insulin so close to a run. I don't have to remember to change the basal rate on my pump at precisely 3:30pm so that I can run at 5. I don't check the weather, plan a running route or constantly check in with my shins to see how they're feeling. 

I can just be.

Yesterday after work, I popped over to see my friends John and Michelle.  We sat on the porch and chatted about life, love, wellness and grandchildren.  I stopped in at the grocery store to pick up strawberries, bananas, frozen yogurt and pickles because we needed them. I went home, was offered a glass of wine (which I readily accepted) and then Doug and I sat on the deck, chatting away.  When we felt hungry - dinner preparations began. 

Not once did I look at the clock or think about schedules.

After dinner, we sat in the living room, each of us working on our laptops but still together.

Fresh strawberries for a snack.

When we got tired, we went to bed.

I slept well and woke up refreshed - a nice change from the last few nights.

After only one day off, my body is excited to run tonight.

When I used to run two to three times a week, it was the running days that were few and far between.  The running days were the ones that loomed big on the calendar.  Now, running days are the norm and days like yesterday are the exception.  Which makes them all the more precious.