After last night’s little truck mishap, it was nice just to sleep until I felt like getting up. I felt pretty good, was doing some laundry, and cleaning of the house, but unfortunately was not able to do a whole lot because I had to finish grading/report cards. So I sat upstairs for several hours, finishing the remainder of work. It felt SO GOOD to get it all done.
After I finished, we quickly got ready and went out for groceries. We then came home, ate, and were getting ready to go to the gym. Right before we left, I went downstairs to change the load of laundry only to find out my basement flooded… again! This is the second time in two months since we’ve moved to this townhouse. That threw a huge monkey wrench in our plans as my house was still is a state of disaster, and when I report the flooding, they will come in my house (plumber and landlord) to see the damage. I could not let him see the three weeks of neglect in my house. So we spent almost two hours cleaning and straightening up the downstairs. The plumbing truck was actually going door-to-door as this was once again a manhole back-up, meaning he had to move the water along in the manhole, our basements would drain, and we would need the cleaning company to come kill all the bacteria tomorrow. What a mess. We went to the gym incredibly late.
Once at the gym, it didn’t take me long to realize that this weekend’s frustrations had got to me. My mind was defeated, my adrenaline all used up, my body tired, and my body literally was refusing to complete some things properly. My box jumps, for example, should have been between 6-7 levels high. My body absolutely refused. Not even once, whether I closed my eyes, whether I reset myself, whether I tried to do it without thinking, could I do the jump with both feet. The right one would go up, the left one would do back down to the floor. I struggled. I had to put the jump back down 3 levels, something that seems like a baby jump to me now, and even so, my body seemed like it was punishing me, making it seem way harder than I know it is.
When I was in the main part doing barbell preacher curls and resistance band preacher curls, my husband saw me struggling. He came over, simply gave me a hug, and apologized for all the things that have happened. I can’t say that it gave me superb motivation and energy after that, but it did help me to at least feel good enough to power through the rest of the workout and complete 12 minutes of HIIT after. This weekend just has not been my weekend, and I’m looking forward to a better day tomorrow.
Calm in Christ and Fitness 