Feet on Floor

That was my mantra this morning. The original plan was to not use the snooze. I don’t even remember the alarm going off the first time! I looked up and it was 5:02, so I waited till the snooze went off at 5:09 and started chanting “feet on floor.” Ugh. See, I’m tired. I mean, tough couple of weeks (personal stress, resolved yesterday) plus training for and doing a triathlon. Since the tri I have alternated days of running and biking, with some weights and swimming thrown it. I’m tired.

What I would like to do this weekend is do my long run Saturday, have breakfast out with hubby, putter around the house. Park my chub and enjoy the view into my back yard as well as whatever cheesaliscious movies will be on Sci-fi channel leading up to Roger Corman’s “Dinocroc” at 9 pm. Heaven. I’d ride my bike Sunday and do my grocery shopping while the righteous are in church. I’d mow my yard. See? I’d be good. No binging on food or being inactive here. Just a nice, slow paced weekend. Especially since the boy is going to visit the grandparents.

What am I doing this weekend? No that! Oh no. I am leaving work at lunch so hubby and I can drive 8 HOURS to western Maryland to go primitive camping with friends. Sorry, not relaxing. Leaving early Sunday – getting home around 5 pm and then having to face the grocery shopping, laundry etc. Where is the relaxation? Hubby said I didn’t have to go – I could just stay home. And feel like a schmuck for letting him make a long road trip alone? I don’t think so.

We committed to going and are responsible for bringing stuff. But it’s a long drive for a weekend and right now it feels more like work than fun. And that sucks.