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| Stay-at-home snowdrops |
Day 301
Monday rest day. Yoga, stretches, walking.
It's there on the schedule, there on the fridge. One, or two, rest days per week. These are the days I feel most crap. I think it's because long runs are inevitably followed by insane food choices, overeating, bad sleep most probably occasioned by same and, because I am chained to my desk, checking my emails and social media, then struggling with tidal waves of self doubt and towering envy of my fellow freelancers.
It is particularly bad, being under employed and singularly unable to make hay with this downtime. Everyone else in this position would be cheerfully cross training, redecorating, sorting out the garden, writing their novel, going to matinees. I seem to be like a rabbit in the headlights, slouching about the neglected house or going on silly missions to the library, the charity shop, the park for my daily inspirational tweet for Ruth Jarvis
To make matters worse, this Monday, I am still suffering from the bloating and antisocial IBS symptoms that have plagued me all weekend. I know I should do something like go on a rice and water fast to banish whatever little digestive difficulty is bugging my bowel, but as I've mentioned before, I'm a greedy, foodloving person; even more so when forced to work from home. The kitchen is a veritable box of delights: Christmas chocolate is still knocking around; the cake from yesterday pressed on me by my waistline-watching sisters, a full breadbin and biscuit tin... they're all waiting to be pillaged, and the more consolation I require in the teeth of this spam-filled inbox, the more time I spend fixing rocket fuel meals in the kitchen, but not running, swimming or cycling enough to merit it.
Tomorow, will be my training day.
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