Room to breathe

Somehow, I’ve managed to pick up three different types of infection in the last fortnight.

I’ve started feeling semi-normal in the last few days after taking a 10-day course of antibiotics, not drinking for over a fortnight, and dosing myself to the eyeballs with cough medicine.

This morning, I slept late and blearily stumbled to the bus stop

I’d forgotten to eat breakfast so I stuffed a muesli bar into my mouth whilst hazily booking in for my circuit class. Sans coffee, I managed to miss my stop and ended up several kilometres from the studio with two minutes until the class started. I found a bus going in the opposite direction, jumped on, and got to the class 10 minutes late.

But just before I walked through the door, I realised I’d completely missed the warm-up and had no idea what the exercises at the different stations were. I considered going in and trying to figure it out and risk getting injured.

I was about as focused and ready to exercise as a newborn sloth. So, I turned around and went right back home, where I had a coffee and a decent breakfast, and I didn’t feel remotely guilty about it.

I’m not her biggest fan, but Michelle Bridges apparently says that even if you don’t feel like working out, you should at least go, start, and then leave if you’re still not feeling it. That’s exactly how I felt this morning (except, ok, the most exercise I did was walking to and from the bus-stop, once I found the right one).

Over the past few months, I’ve been trying to fit into this gorgeous skirt.

I bought it in Barcelona for my birthday. It was already a squeeze when I bought it, which I guess is a lesson in not buying something several sizes too small and convincing yourself that you’ll find a way to fit it, come hell or high water.

After I went to Jordan, it finally fit, but by the time I went to wear it for a wedding recently, it was going to be more uncomfortable than I was willing to put up with. So I had a tailor let it out.

At first, I felt really disappointed in myself that I hadn’t met my goal. But then I realised how restrictive my goal had been in the first place. I I could either have this beautiful skirt sit in my wardrobe gathering dust, making me feel guilty that I hadn’t whittled my waist down enough to feel confident in it, or I could let the bloody thing out and actually enjoy it.

That’s the thing with goals – they change.

And we need to be flexible enough to allow them to without beating ourselves up over it. Of course it’s good to have a big-picture goal to work towards, and to hold yourself accountable to it. If you’ve been following along for the past couple of months, you’ll probably know that I’ve been trying to get fitter, improve my overall health and have a good mental attitude towards my body. I’m happy to say that I’m getting there by eating better, trying new types of exercise and prioritising my health. But it’s not going to happen overnight, and it’s not worth sacrificing a simple moment happiness if you’re feeling like death warmed up.

Sometimes, you’re a hot mess.

You’ll miss your gym class, or won’t hit your step count, or cave to chocolate pudding. And that’s ok. You’re human. One indulgence or morning off doesn’t have to dictate the rest of your day, or week, and make you fail in meeting your goals.

Give yourself some room to breathe.