I still enjoyed working out, denying my brain’s yearning for a change. I’d get myself going because it was a set morning routine and I never explored alternatives.
It took me a while to see it for what it was since, truly, an hour of HIIT and/or strength a day can’t wreak that much havoc?! (My pride is wounded and indignant). But how about having to recline on the sofa, or bed, for virtually the rest of the day because I no longer had much energy. I even lost interest in going out and seeing friends or treating myself to a day of window shopping like I used to because, the thought alone was already wearing me out.
And the increased appetite, holy cow like, this gnawing ravenous churning in my gut every 2 hours?!
But I was still in denial – I thought I was enjoying it. I was looking sharp in my colorful tops and skimpy workout shorts, I chose my workouts myself and truly felt I was making progress. Until one day when my undergarments told me otherwise. Dang! I got out a pair of jeans and holy cow, hi there muffin top! I remember being so dismayed and frantically wringing my hands and pacing my room. What is happening?
For me it started mentally – wanting to do something else for exercise and silently protesting that I could use a break. And then physically – I could still feel my sore muscles 2-3 days after the exercise, despite having done that exercise a few times before already. Plus the symptoms mentioned above.
So I’ve been taking a break this week and I’m happy to report that I’ve been sleeping much better. As a matter of fact, I have such deep sleep that I have no doubt my body is recuperating. And I’m back to setting gab-dates with my besties 🙂
Meanwhile, I do the granny swag on some days. I’m painfully terrible at it. But it gets me laughing while feeling the swag 😉