I never thought I could be so proud of being lazy. I had planned on a 2-3 mile (okay, maybe 1.5 mile) run today. Last night, I had trouble falling, and then staying asleep. I’ve had an oddly intense few days at work, and I think it’s seeping into my home life a little. Needless to say, I woke up this morning feeling pretty run down. Add to that a day of crises and a less than filling lunch, and I was counting the minutes until I could head home. I had told my supervisor that I was going to go for a nice run as self care. Even though it looked like rain! I’m just that hardcore! But, the whole way home, I was dreading the idea of having to set out for a run where I may or may not get poured on mid-jog. So I didn’t. I decided that, instead of going for a run, I was going to stay home and cook a nice meal and totally veg.

Per usual, I had this internal debate in my head as to whether deciding not to run was self-care or sheer laziness. And then, on my walk from the bus to the house, I realized: It didn’t fucking matter (this realization may have led to me walking down the street smiling to myself like a lunatic. I can neither confirm nor deny). Whether I was just making excuses, or honestly too run down to run miles, didn’t really matter. What my body was telling me was that I was hungry, tired, and stressed. And, yeah, going for a run might have helped. But so could allowing myself a break and doing something else that I genuinely enjoy doing and that makes me happy. This might be what listening to your body is sorta all about!

Running is not relaxing to me. It clears my head and it makes me feel good for accomplishing a goal, but I don’t enjoy it. Today, what my body was telling me is that it didn’t need to be challenged and pushed. It needed to be coddled and nourished. And if “nourished” means 3 Kinder Buenos (maybe the greatest candy bar ever invented) and trashy TV, then so be it.