Last week I was on vacation.
Not from work. But from all things physical.
My kids were home for winter break. Meanwhile, I and my husband worked – my husband from home with our kids underfoot and I, at the office, doing overtime, trying to meet deadlines.
By the time I pulled myself through our front door each night, the mommy and wife guilt were raging full force.
I needed to be there, fully in the present, relieving Steve, cooking, cleaning, stopping the kids from bickering and playing games to keep them from further bickering.
Mornings, I was dead to the world, knocking over my alarm clock in an attempt to hit that snooze for the fourth time before I finally rolled out of bed with just a moment to spare.
By noon, I was just hitting my stride, plowing my way through inbox piles. I couldn’t leave then.
And then, company came. Wonderful company. My sister-in-law, her husband and my niece. I wish they were still here, but, outside of some snow shoveling breaks, it meant socializing instead of working out.
Last night, I looked at my lack of exercise as a defeat – yet another time when I was a failure at fitness.
Today, however, I am choosing to look at it as an exercise holiday – a chance to catch a much-needed breath in the rest of my life.
That holiday ended today.
No, with work and my son’s lessons, I didn’t make it to the gym, but I did climb stairs, over and over again until my blood got pumping, and it felt good.
Tomorrow I’ll tackle the treadmill again, and maybe, one day, I’ll take vacation where all I do is move.
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