Laying in bed with a sliver of sunshine in my face at 7:30am I was trying to convince my tired body to get up and do something. The choice was between a 2 mile run on the treadmill or a 3.5 mile hike with the dog. Both of these things would need to be done quickly as I have a standing virtual meet up with a friend every Sunday morning.
I was torn between the guilt of skipping a run and the guilt of my dog not getting to have a fun walk this weekend. Again, I was feeling this guilt while still laying in bed, wishing someone would close the crack in the curtain. The problem was that I was tired. Saturdays are normally my rest day for sleeping in but I had spent ten hours of the day doing yard work and I couldn’t convince my brain or my limbs to do more.
So maybe it’s a rest day, I tell myself. Maybe I just get up, have breakfast and don’t do any of the physically demanding tasks I had in mind. Maybe I just see what happens instead of forcing things to happen. Maybe I give myself a break. I wish I could say this easier than going for a run or taking a hike. But it doesn’t seem to be.
At about 2pm a window of opportunity opened up and me and Chief went for a 3.5 mile hike. And you know what? It still felt like a rest day.
