I got sick. Like really, really sick.
I don’t sit much, usually. Always moving. Always doing. I mean, my favorite way to relax is to run, and I love working out. My to do list grows faster than I can check it off, but I keep plugging away in the hopes that one day, it will all get crossed off. My kids are super active in all kinds of things. I’m always going. Always doing.
Over Christmas break, though, I crashed. I could not move. I slept all day for days. I then laid down all day for more days. Before I knew it, I had spent a whole month hardly able to function and eating whatever was available. Just when I thought I was feeling better, it would hit again. I had the usual flu symptoms but also had weird issues with my heart fluttering and my neck and shoulders aching constantly. They would fail me in easy every day activities like pushing myself up from a laying position to sit up. Seriously, they would hurt and then buckle. My heart would suddenly start beating so fast I could feel it in my chest, and I would get light headed and dizzy. I started thinking I had some weird disease or some kind of system failure that was slowly killing me. My husband is a doctor, though, and he wasn’t overly concerned. Whatever. I felt like my whole world was ending. I think he could have been more sympathetic, but that’s a post for another day.
I gained weight. I lost fitness. I started letting go of any hope of keeping resolutions. I felt like a busted can of biscuits every time I tried to wear workout clothes. I hated it, but I couldn’t do anything about it. It was February before I felt like I could breathe well enough to work out.
When I finally got back to the gym, I was emotionally happy to be getting back at it, but my body was in shock. I was wobbly after the workout. When I woke up the next day, I was struggling to climb the stairs or walk my dog. It would be a couple more weeks before I would try again with similar results.
I got back at it for a challenge in April, but I’m still struggling to be consistent. I know much of it has to do with my crazy life and schedule, but why is it so hard to get back to fit after a break? I had to quit working out because I felt like I was dying, and then trying to workout again made me feel like I was dying. It’s always seems to be a lose lose situation.
I decided to do the Runner’s World Summer streak. So, I’ll be running at least a mile every day from now (Memorial Day) until July 4th. I started the streak off with the Murph challenge (full run, half the pushups and pull-ups because I have t-Rex arms), and I’ll finish it with the Peachtree Roadrace. I’m hoping this will jump start more consistency both in my fitness and in life. Who knows, maybe I’ll get back to writing every day. Here’s hoping.
Have you ever had a rough patch that seemed to never end? What did you do to restart?