So, yesterday, work let out early. My mom was off watching her grandkids sit on Santa's lap, so I had a few hours to myself. I needed to wrap presents, and was running a little low on Rose-Time, but, with time to kill, I felt like I needed to run.
And I didn't have a good excuse not to, except that I didn't want to. So I got on the treadmill.
Well, I didn't think I didn't have a good excuse. The world was trying to tell me something.
First, the treadmill tried to kill me. As soon as I turned it on it ramped up to 14mph, and wouldn't go down. It took unplugging it and replugging it a few times to get it to stop that.
I wasn't planning on going fast, so I decided to try reading a magazine. Everything was shaking too much, though, so, this was my view for as long as I was willing to run. You can actually seen the magazine in the picture, thrown away in anger.
Shoot me now. (also, holy unflattering picture, Batman)
So, I quit. After one mile.
The main reason, though, was because my butt hurt. Well, my butt muscles, every step jossled them, and my muscles were SORE. And they weren't getting less sore. I felt better later in the day when they still hurt. I knew I was justified. My body wanted a kind of day off.
I'm still glad I got on the treadmill, even if it wasn't an awesome. I still ran a mile yesterday, and that, to me, is a success.
Today is my mom's birthday. We're planning a day of eating and hanging out. Maybe today we will go for a walk. We'll see. I'm not going to force any holiday exercise, because it's all about time spent with my family. I will not feel guilty for hanging out with my mom and brothers and husband all day.