If you’re friends with me on Facebook, you’re probably aware that I broke my toe just before we left for the airport. Truly the most painful thing I have ever experienced, keeping in mind that I have birthed three kids (and don’t tell me I had an epidural, it was painful, ok?). Anyway, we made it helter skelter to the airport, with me yelling at Darian to pull my heels out of the suitcase. Thanks to a nifty wheelchair driver, we had plenty time to spare, and I spent a drugged out 20 hours on an airplane with my foot on the seat table.
Now you see, a holiday for me usually involves quite a reasonable amount of physical activity. I had packed my running shoes, yoga duds, and envisioned surfing, SUP-ping, and kayaking my way through my vacation. Not to mention my usual mall stomping!
But instead. I pretty much sat on my ass. And ate. Everything I could see.
And it wasn’t half bad. I got to hang out with my kids more than I might have. And I read four books. And the enforced downtime turned out to be a pretty good thing for my body, mind and spirit. I even came home only 3lbs heavier where I could have sworn that I ate my body weight in chocolate.
Now that I’m back in the swing of things I can’t say that I’m delighted about my now healing toe, but really, worse things could have happened, and I’d like to think that the benefits completely outweighed the pain. But no more running in the house barefoot, ok?