Sleep. Neither the word nor the action have been part of my vocabulary since the weather warmed up, work ramped up, and my entire inner circle began getting engaged.
Insert generic couple photo here.
In terms of satisfaction, the age of 25 certainly came in like a lion (inclusive of being laid off, the first half was one of the more challenging periods of my life). Fortunately, since early February, I’ve been feeling much more lamb-like — and in good time too. This Saturday is my 26th birthday, and to be honest, I’m so, so over the chaos that was 25. It was tiring, and I’m ready to move on.
Equally tiring has been the last month or so, which has been filled with late nights and lots of drinks. I mean, thanks to Michigan’s Final Four appearance, there was even a Monday night out thrown into the mix. I never do anything on Monday nights, unless you count Jeopardy and the time it takes to make a big salad. And to top it off, I’ve been out on Fridays and Saturdays, as opposed to simply choosing one — another rare occurrence in the otherwise grandma-esque lifestyle I’ve tried to lead so far.
Family-filled weekends are always a great excuse to lay low, which was part of the reason why I was so incredibly excited for my niece and nephew’s baby-naming this weekend. With a 9:18 AM train to catch on Saturday morning, and the prospect of family conversation, I made sure to keep my wine to a minimum after work on Friday. In bed by 11, I woke up 9 hours later — I repeat, 9 hours later — ready to rock and roll. Long Island, here I come.
Saturday’s baby naming was the perfect little gathering, and the babies were total angels.
Grandpa was an angel too.
The highlights (besides, you know, when the babies were given their traditional Jewish names):
- The twin’s older brother Becker announcing mid-ceremony that, “I need to go poopy.” We’ve all been there, little one. Could kids be any darn funnier?
- The comforting spread of Jewish brunch foods (chicken salad, bagels, hummus, etc.) to
nosh onstuff my face with post-ceremony.
- The chance to hang with the adorable (and quickly growing!) kiddies. Have I mentioned I love being an aunt?
I guess this is the part where I admit that I didn’t run on Saturday. I should also admit that I could have. As usual, I woke up at 7 AM, giving me a solid hour to squeeze in a run before heading to the family out east. But, instead, I chose not to. I chose to stay in bed. I chose to doze off back into dream land.
I could tell you that I decided to stay in bed and relax because my left big toe has tendinitis (and actually has for a solid month now). I could also tell you that I ran 5 times last week, so my body needed a rest. That would be true also.
But both of these excuses would be just that — excuses. The truth is, I could have run on Saturday morning. A tendinitis-ridden toe is hardly an excuse to sit on the sidelines, and my shin hasn’t been achey — not much, at least — and so I’ve been allowing myself the luxury of a daily (albeit abridged) morning run.
On Saturday, I woke up and I wanted to run. I also had the urge to not run though — to stay in bed and wriggle onto Noah’s shoulder. So I did. And now, we can move on with it.
What’s actually kind of nice about these intermittent days off are their ability to reinvigorate your inner sense of drive. By Sunday, I woke up — sun shining — with the need for speed (relative, that is). I wanted to lace up and get out there. I wanted to get up and run.
This feeling isn’t foreign to me, as I’ve been running almost daily for nearly 7 solid years. But, having run almost daily for nearly 7 solid years, I also tend to experience lulls every now and then. Last week was one of those lulls, and it came without warning or explanation. The week before, I had run back to back days, 5 miles per excursion. Last week, I struggled to log 3 most mornings, maybe because I was just plain old burnt out.
Sunday’s run was incredible to say the least. Noah and I set out along the East River around 10:30 in the morning, the sun shining high above us in the sky, and the air around us a cool 30-something degrees. Still, the warmth was everywhere, despite the slightly chilly temperature.
From start to finish, I felt stronger than I have in weeks. Something about taking a day off and allowing my body to rest and heal must have spurred it; there was a spring in my stride that I can’t remember experiencing since I’ve began to run daily again.
Noah and I ran down past the Williamsburg Bridge to the newer section of the East River promenade, stopping for only a brief moment to stretch before turning around and heading back up north toward home. While we weren’t wearing watches or anything to technically time our pace, we guestimated that we were logging roughly 9-minute miles — maybe even 8:50’s. I know it’s nothing to write home about, but for me, I might as well have been wearing a rocket pack on my shoes.
I needed Sunday — I needed this weekend — so badly. I needed to go to sleep before midnight. I needed to eat well, shop for groceries, fold laundry, and yes, I needed to sit down and write.
I also needed to supplement my healthy dinner with homemade cheesy potato chips.
Life has become fast-paced in recent months. And that’s fine. In fact, at times, it feels awesome to be living like I should. Especially when I’ve got these sick new specks to rock along the way.
But then again, it’s also important to slow down once in a while. Stop. Breathe it all in. Go for a run truly worth writing about — not just another morning of pushing my body around the block.
- Tell me: Did you take any amazing weekend runs?
- Do you ever find that giving your body a one-day rest can result in a newfound sense of energy?