Posted April 30, 2012on:
I don’t do a very good job of slowing down. Typically, I hit a breaking point and self implode. There’s no warning, no leveling off. Just a face plant into a wall.
I hit my breaking point at the beginning of April. With race training leading into SXSW, leading into Hannah’s surgery, throwing in countless birthday parties, and wrapping everything up with Julia’s ER trip, I self imploded. I went into safety mode of calling off all outside responsibilities and spending more time with our family.
Last weekend we spent a day exploring. Found ourselves at Lyndon B Johnson’s home. Ate crazy good food from a rundown hotel.
This weekend we putted around the house. Did yard work. Ate pizza and frozen yogurt. Went swimming.
Yet, even as wonderful as our family time has been, I still felt exhausted and overworked.
Yesterday, I ran a 10K race. It was a really fun race, running along the river downtown. Around mile five, I noticed that my ankle was starting to hurt. I assumed it was from running on uneven pavement, so tried finding more level ground. I finished the race off strong, only to have a limp. As the day wore on, it became harder to walk, forcing me to ice down my foot, wrap it up and move as little as possible. Two things I learned yesterday afternoon; 1) it’s nearly impossible for me to “move as little as possible”, 2) injured Sarah is a grouchy Sarah.
Today’s laundry list of chores is growing by the minute. Both girls are in school, which usually is my golden opportunity to get all my errands done with only one babe in tow. But given that it hurts to walk from the bed to the bathroom, I’m certain grocery shopping will prove nearly impossible.
Jonathan’s given me mandatory “bed rest” for the day. Which essentially means, slowing down and resting my foot. There is a part of me that is grumbling – complaining about everything that’s not going to get accomplished if I can’t move around. But another part of me wonders if this isn’t the best thing for me. A forced slow down. A chance, while Joseph is sleeping and the girls are at school, to just rest.
Who knew a strained ankle would finally be what makes me stop. Here’s to a day of rest.