Being Healthy Is Exhausting And Painful

Being Healthy Is Exhausting
Pearl is not a fan of being healthy and would like her bowl filled, pronto!
I’m feeling sorry for myself today. And yesterday. Probably the day before that too. Maybe a whole week, but I’m too tired to think past yesterday.

Thanks, Jeff Galloway

I started running again. It may be a slow shuffle for 30 seconds at a time, but yes, I am running. For three whole weeks now. Part of me thought I’d never run again, but after a losing a few pounds (another miracle), I wanted to run. And it wasn’t bad.

But there are always bad days, and this is one of mine. The run itself was good, but since the always-amazing, post-run shower, I am tired. No… more than tired, exhausted. Like the day I lay on the floor for my back, I could fall asleep if I don’t stay vigilant. I feel like I ran a marathon, and I don’t even know what running a marathon is like because a half-marathon is all I’m willing to subject myself to. But I can imagine this is what it feels like. Holding the pen is work. Being upright is work.

It’s no wonder I’m tired. I’ve been increasing my daily step count from the 10k a day average I’ve had since the beginning of April. This week, I’m over 13k a day. It wears a person out.

Remember how I said I’ve lost a few pounds too?

On top of increasing how much I move, I’ve decreased how much I eat. Less fuel = more crabby. The saying is “fat and happy” for a reason. My hope is once there is less body to feed and drag around, I won’t be so tired and crabby. Getting there isn’t pretty though. Nor it is pleasant for those who are around me at the ugly times. (Sorry, John. That’s the price you pay for a trophy wife. Haha!)

Because being healthy is exhausting and painful, John also gets to endure my laments. I ache in every joint from the waist down today. Ibuprofen is my BFF. I groan every time I stand or sit. Or walk. Or shift. Or breathe. OK, I’m exaggerating. A little. Arthritis sucks.

Gratitude and Relativity

Then I think of people who have it worse than I, who have more body to drag around and pain to endure, who wish they had joints that ache because they don’t have legs, or worse, who have joints that ache without the legs to go with them. Worst of all, those who haven’t made it this far in life. I am grateful for what I do have, for my progress, for my family who doesn’t abandon me when I’m a baby, for the ability to get out there every day and make myself tired and achy. It doesn’t mean I like feeling that way, but feeling that way has a significance I can appreciate.

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