An unknown number of days ago, I rolled my ankle. Either chasing the dogs, marking trees to be cut, or most likely checking the fire engines before they were used for the day (I have to climb under the hood and check the oil, wedging my foot behind the front grate). I didn't think anything of it at first, and just kept going about business as usual. That means high intensity workouts followed by hours hiking in the woods for work.
Needless to say, my foot is propped up and I am frustrated. I haven't worked out in two days (I know, GASP), my leg is throbbing, and my head is going round and round in circles. When I don't work out for extended periods of time, my mind starts playing games on me. Working out just wasn't so I could lose weight, I needed to get control of my emotions and thoughts too. For as long as I can remember, I have had struggled with emotional eating and rampaging self doubt. Working out floods my brain with feelings of strength and allows me to feel in control of my own life. A few days without my endorphin high, and I feel like a kid the last week of school before summer vacation. Antsy and ready to break free.
Here I am, on a Thursday night, watching my dogs roughhouse and wishing I could be doing something other than sitting here on my butt, pouring my feelings into this (sorry not sorry, its the truth. Also, Justin went fishing and I'm with the boys, so I'm salty too ;) ). Yet, here I am. I can sit here feeling overwhelmingly sorry for myself OR I can be grateful that in two days, I will be back jumping around and playing with the dogs.
It's the little things in life I look forward to. Being able to chase down the psycho beagle puppy without hurting myself is one of them. Cheers to strong legs and stronger minds.