And for seven days she rested.

Over the last few years I haven't been a fan of rest. Wait, who am I kidding? I never have been. It's manifested itself in all sorts of busy ways: work, volunteering, socializing, doing, working out. I've known for a long time I needed to learn how to rest but there aren't many proper rest role models in my surroundings and quite frankly if you want to get to the heart if it, I really didn't want to learn all that much.

This also appeared in my fitness life. This is hard to admit because I as a trainer I really do want my clients to be their best. To rest when needed, when sick or tired. But for the last 3 years I've been a machine. And I have loved it. Make no mistake, my life and workouts have been JOY.

So recently when my workouts started to be affected by my tiredness I had to take note. In some instances I was at my fittest, in others I was working my way to staleness/fatigue/possible injury. I knew it and was taking my stubborn time trying to come to terms with surrendering it. I had to take a rest week. Or a rest week (or longer) would eventually take me.

I was terrified. First and foremost, I LOVE working out. The entire process whether I am with my trainer or in a class or just solo is like coming home to heaven for me. Second, there is that little part of me that has been working so hard for so long that didn't quite trust herself to stop. Third, I honestly know that my fitness has replaced my coping skill of eating and I was afraid if I stopped, some bad habits would come up.

Do you know what happened?

I made this a goal. I'm good at goals. I write them on a board that I see first thing when I get up. I worked my mind up before I did it. I looked at it like a fast and strategized that I would use the normal 12 hours a week I exercised into other thing such as a nap, meditation, research, goal completing time.

I slept.
And slept.
Like the dead, I have slept!
I didn't even know how tired I was. I was so tired in fact that my mind couldn't talk my body into failing at this week long goal.

I didn't go crazy either. I will admit there are parts of me even now (as I type this its day 5) that deeply desires the rush of pushing myself hard, of the freedom of a good run, of the hum of the cycle wheel, the challenge of a new exercise. But I know it's coming soon.

I haven't binged or eaten badly. I also haven't stuffed my emotions. I have felt them and tried my best to process them.

I actually am enjoying this thing called rest. I often ignore it during the weeks. I lie to myself doing just as hard of a workout but only once and I say that was an "easy or moderate" workout.

This whole process has been good for me. My workouts are an important part of my life and will continue to be. My dedication to them should be based on love and not inadequacies or fears. My body is where I live. It's the only thing I have. And I must maintain it. That not only means being healthy with food/exercise/relationships... but in rest. I get it. I do. Honestly for the first time.