It’s been a rough weekend. Little Boy brought home a stomach bug, which he then generously gave to me, who passed it on to his dad. (At least there was some stagger so we had one semi-functioning adult at a time.) There has been a lot of ugh, turn the TV on and just try to distract ourselves while we get through this. Even feeling somewhat better, my appetite has been too low to give me any real energy, mental or physical.
Needless to say, I did not go for my usual Sunday run this morning. I sat and ate breakfast, and drank a cup of tea, and tried to gather myself for the day. I felt so tense, as though there was something I ought to be doing—but there wasn’t. Little Boy was puttering around the kitchen mostly not getting into trouble. There was no hurry, nothing planned. There were chores to do—there are always chores to do—but they didn’t need doing right away. So why was it so hard to relax?
Maybe running on both my weekend mornings is getting to me. Maybe I need more breaks like this, so that I know how to deal with them when they arise.