I dragged myself out of bed this morning, dragged myself to work, dragged myself to the gym, dragged myself along on the treadmill for half an hour. My legs need a break– once again it wasn’t that my lungs couldn’t keep up, but my legs were just really tired. I think I’ll skip tomorrow’s pre-lifting run, maybe give squats a rest, and see how my legs feel for Friday.
I might be getting sick, actually… I’m sneezy, my nose is runny and my sinuses are unhappy. That would explain the fatigue. Ick.
The morning shows all had people cooking recipes for Thanksgiving on them. I like Thanksgiving, but I had a big realization a couple years back: The food is good but not life-changingly good, and nearly all of it I can make anytime, with a little work– so there’s really no reason to eat more than I want. My family is full of fantastic cooks who always pot-luck a really nice spread of dishes. And now I spend Thanksgiving with my partner’s family (they’re nearby, while my family is 600 miles away), who have a different set of traditions (no meal, even Thanksgiving, is complete without a small bowl of rice next to your plate) but it’s all still really good. I just can’t stuff myself (har) anymore. I’ll eat a little of everything, take seconds on stuff I really like, and save room for dessert, and spend the rest of the evening comfortable, not groaningly full.
Years of dieting wrecked my good sense around eating– Thanksgiving became either a "free day" from a diet where I could eat all the things (and did, painfully, because it was back to the diet on Friday), or I spent the holiday unhappily restricting what I put on my plate while eyeing all the delicious, rich dishes everyone else was enjoying. Neither way was satisfying. I had to give myself permission to eat and learn to listen to my body for a long time before I could get it right.