“Well, that was definitely a bad idea.”
The exact words I said to myself as I attempted to get out of bed this morning. (Which, for the record, I was eventually successful at.)
It’s something I’ve said to myself a number of times over the last couple months (and throughout my life, obviously; if I weren’t saying it to myself occasionally, I’d be doing something wrong) since my stupid leg injury became a major issue.
My physiotherapist was like, “Honestly, you’re gonna just have to try things, and then continue the things that don’t hurt. If you wake up feeling worse, don’t do it again.”
So I thought running might be a good idea.
In theory, it probably was.
I sat at work, thinking of how awesome it would feel, how satisfying it would be, how energetic I’d be the next morning…
And instead it flared up not only my knee, but every other problem I have, too. In a nutshell, I feel completely broken right now.
(In hindsight, I should have stopped as soon as it started hurting, but I’m stubborn as hell, so…)
“Well,” I texted one of my BFFs this morning, “lesson learned! At least I have something to blog about, right?”
Running. It’s not for me. Not right now, anyway.
I’m gonna limp to work now.
P.S. So I ran/jogged 7km last night. It wasn’t an organized event or anything, but I think I’m gonna cross that shit off my Bucket List anyway. That’s fair, right?