I didn’t run this week. I’m tired. Bone-weary tired, depressed tired, so tired my eyes sting. I would cry with how exhausted I am except crying requires effort and I can’t muster the energy to shed water.
I wake up in the morning more exhausted than when I went to bed. A sound sleep is a distant memory and energy is something I can only imagine. All the “joie de vive” has left me for another woman and I’m a crumpled shell of my former self, just waiting for the moment when I can shut my eyes and lose consciousness. Tired….tired….so tired.
What’s a girl to do when she get’s this way? Call a friend? Go to the YMCA for a quick yoga class? Indulge in a hot bath? I don’t know what other girls do when they’re worn down but I don’t do any of the above. My recipe for tiredness: shut the door, pull the shades and crawl into bed. Repeat for as many days as it takes until finally, the energy returns.
A few nights ago I announced to my husband I was going to bed. It was eight o’clock. He said “What can I do for you?” I told him in a voice too tired to whine, “You can tuck me in, sing me a lullaby and let me go to sleep.”
He cleared off the bed while I brushed my teeth and changed into jammies. As soon as I crawled between the sheets he turned off the light, sat next to me and took my hand in his. With his other hand he brushed the hair from my forehead and gently started crooning our old standby; “A Better Place to Be” by Harry Chapin. When we first started dating we would lay in bed singing gently to each other. That night, as he sang the entire eight minute song, I was transported to a time when love was new and I didn’t know what it was to be bone-weary. He finished the song, kissed me good-night and let me drift away to my happy place.
It’s Saturday. I didn’t meet the ladies to go running. I slept ten hours and didn’t get up until eight this morning. I’m re-learning how to sleep in. I haven’t set the alarm clock all week and I’m not doing anything but resting.
Running is a lot of fun. So is gardening in the summer, riding bikes, playing at the park, having friends over for barbeques, going to the pool and wandering the mountains on impromptu hikes. All these things require energy that only comes from being rested. I did a bang-up job of using up every last reserve of energy I possess and now I’m paying the price. I don’t even want a vacation; that would take too much thought and preparation. I just want to putz around my house, nibble a little when I get hungry, and sleep.
Here’s to tired people everywhere. Cheers.