Swing Low

It's been a rough couple of weeks. I think my body is not doing so well with the lack of exercise. Or my mind, for that matter. Maybe I've gotten addicted to the endorphins or something. See, with the injured ankle and such, I decided to drastically scale back the working out after the triathlon to give my foot time to heal and hopefully, to give my body a chance to rest so I don't get burned out before I start ramping up my training for the next big event (the Ragnar Relay). But after months of getting anywhere from 1.5-3 hours of working out a day, dropping down to 30-45 minutes was kind of a shock. Yes, I'm enjoying the break, but I don't feel as happy as I do normally. It's been a couple of emotional rollercoaster weeks.

Terence, being the sensitive husband that he is, noticed that I was having a hard time, even outside the sanity-wrecking late evening hours. After some discussion, he asked me to give him a job, a new chore that would be his, that would lighten my load. He suggested cleaning the kitchen floor, and I thought I would die of happiness. I loathe cleaning floors in general, and the kitchen floor especially. But I must admit, I was skeptical. (Terence had made housekeeping promises before that have quickly been forgotten.)

However, the very next morning I woke up to a sparkling kitchen floor. And almost every morning thereafter he has cleaned up the kitchen floor before going to bed. It's been wonderful. I didn't realize how much a dirty floor was sapping my energy and depressing my mood until I didn't have to deal with it anymore. Today it was an especially needed reminder that my husband cares about me. Monday I managed to run straight into the corner of the kitchen cabinets, and I pretty much murdered my little toe. (Um, yeah, I did that to the other foot two weeks ago too-- though not quite as bad.) I've broken a toe before, and though I didn't bother to go to the doctor this time around, I'm pretty sure I broke one this time too. Which meant that I was unable to do any kind of exercise at all yesterday. Needless to say, by bedtime I was a wreck-- convinced I was the worst mom ever, doomed to eternal foot injuries and so unable to compete in the Ragnar, destined to gain back forty pounds the next two months, and on top of all that, I was condemning myself as a lazy sack. (Because anyone who takes a day to stay off her feet must be lazy, even if there is a broken toe involved. Suck it up, woman! Your pioneer ancestors crossed the plains, for heaven's sake!)

My head was not a pretty place to inhabit last night.

So this morning when I got up to a clean floor, it was like my husband had put his arms around me and reminded me that I'm not in this alone. Thank goodness for a loving husband who made it possible for me to face my kitchen this morning!