I despise rest days. I also treasure them. But I hate them. And I love them. Conflict at its best.

I needed it. I was feeling some twinges in my calves and shins. So I know I need a break from the run. But I didn’t do anything yesterday. Not even a walk on the treadmill. That is not like me.

I had 4 tweener girls in the house this weekend. That is probably enough to get anyone’s heart rate up, and I prepared a heck of a dinner for them Saturday night, and breakfast the following morning, so I was on my feet a lot. Other than that, however, nothing. And to top it all off, I partook in the pancake breakfast, had buttered popcorn for lunch while watching football, not to mention a handful of Archer Farms Dark Chocolate Covered Almonds, and then a shot of vodka before bed. Yeah, pretty bad. I feel like a bloated whale this morning. And getting back into the swing today was hard.

We awoke to -13° this morning, so the hubby wanted to do P90X before his walk. This is tough for me. I count on that treadmill walk to loosen and warm me up. It didn’t happen this morning, and the basement temperature read 54° at 8 am. Ooofda. But I made it though with a lot of grunts and groans. And I couldn’t wait to get on this treadmill. Just getting the blood flowing and the sweat streaming is all a person needs to shake off a day of…well…nothing.

Now, I accept that I did need it. It is over. It is in the past. Time to move on and regroup, beat the bloat, and wait for the cold weather to retreat so I can get back out there. I still plan a week off of the run. But I will walk on the treadmill. And I plan to try a treadmill walk experiment later this week. I’ll fill you in later.

What do you consider a rest day? And do you feel half the guilt that I do?