So, we’re now two weeks out (less!) from the wedding, and operation leave no workout behind is now officially a flop. I was doing so well too. On Saturday, Noah and I took a delicious little run together that took us across the city from east to west, down south along the High Line, and back up through Union Square. We ended the morning at Daniel’s Bagels, where we picked up a boatload of carbs and shmear. Noah’s parents were coming to town for the day, and it was kind of fun to play host.
On top of the morning run, after breakfast, the family spent the rest of the day walking around the city — on our feet almost the entire time. Ironically enough, we actually walked the same route that Noah and I had run that very same morning. East to west. The High Line. Union Square. Home.
Sometime in between the day’s activities, that scratchy throat I was contemplating all week (is it allergies? dry air?) began to materialize into something more. Oh no. Not again. Not another virus. Simply put, my immune system sucks.
Not wanting to bail on the rest of the day’s activities, I pushed on. Noah and I were supposed to watch the Michigan basketball game at a bar with friends (go blue!) but fortunately decided to instead just turn on the TV at home. After the game, we had plans to go to a show followed by a late dinner in true New York City form. And while it’s not like I partied the night away or went to sleep late or drunk, by 11:30, I was beat, my ears were ringing, and my throat was most definitely sore.
Sunday morning confirmed what I already knew, and while I took a short walk to Flatiron with Noah and his parents before their flight, I spent the rest of the day nursing my body back to non-health (my throat! it still hurts! yikes!) on the couch. Sunday was reserved for primarily three things:
1. Reading — I just picked up Thirty Girls and have been itching to start on page one.
2. Movie-ing — We rented 12 Years a Slave. Just, wow.
3. Chili-ing — Noah and I (but, admittedly, mostly Noah) whipped up a bangin’ batch of turkey chili. It stewed all day and then we ate it during the movie.
To bulk it up, I ate mine with sliced avocado and homemade roasted artichoke.
One thing Sunday did not consist of: running. Cue the dramatic music now.
Honestly, it kind of stunk. I’d been on such a roll with awesome runs, stretchy yoga sessions and more. I was hoping that by today, Monday morning, I’d have it in me to squeak out a few miles in the morning. Then I woke up, felt crappy, saw that the temperature was barely above 20, and figured that’d be just about the most irresponsible thing I could do.
(Beet juice is responsible, ya know?)
So I turned off my alarm and went back to sleep.
I am still not feeling great, and although I would love to manage even a slight workout today, I’m thinking it may just not be in the cards. On the bright side, as I’ve mentioned countless times before, my wedding dress was bought to size — not one size down — and so it’s not like I’m trying to fit into anything unrealistic. I just want to have sweet arms. I think that’s fair, right?
Anywho, here’s to hoping that tomorrow I wake up with a clear throat, ears, nose and eyes (yup, eyes; eye gunk is the worst). Here’s to hoping that tomorrow is a run day. But, most importantly, here’s to knowing that whether or not it happens, workout or not, sickling or not, the wedding will be fan-freaking-tastic, and the last thing I’ll be worried about on Saturday two weeks from now is whether I ran that extra mile, forced that extra push-up, or ate that extra-large bag of Cadbury Eggs. True story. Cadbury Eggs rock.