My plan said run today.
But my plan didn't say it was going to be in the 30s, windy and rainy.
And the plan didn't say that my husband would call dibs on the treadmill.
So I made a new plan.
I decided to try a DVD I had borrowed from the library - Pure Barre.
At 5:15 a.m.
My body was not pleased with this new plan.
I was sluggish, and I had to stop for the bathroom.
The DVD was nonplussed with it as well.
It paused. Skipped. Went back to the main menu.
As if my real life were actually the movie, Miles woke up just as I put in a new DVD.
So I tried to make do.
After Miles was changed fed, we visited the basement.
He chased balls; I jumped rope.
I threw balls; he ran.
He cried; I stopped.
We went upstairs.
He watched "Thomas;" I did hammer curls.
I did push-ups; he laughed.
He cried when Denali took his ball; I did overhead presses.
He cried harder; I picked him up.
Called it a day.
After 20 weeks of doing everything possible to squeeze in a training session, it was difficult to call this one a draw. It almost felt like quitting, and my attempts to momentarily spike my heart rate seemed vain. I (read: soul) really needed a good sweat session, and I am antsy to see some good numbers on the scale.
However, I will say that it was nice that my Type A self didn't have to have a panic session that a workout didn't happen. A Zumba class tomorrow night or Piloxing on Friday morning, and I'm good for the week.
Actually, I'm good no matter what.