If you know me, you know that I’m always the person who wants to do things. I’m not exactly what you’d call a ‘relaxer.’ I work out almost daily. I take care of my son. I socialize…a lot. I’m a doer. I’m not the person who laments I’m too tired to go out or too tired to work out. I just suck it up and do it.
But you know what? Today — today, I’m fucking tired. I said it. And I’m not complaining mind you. I did this to myself. I drove 8 hours in the past 24 to take O, my Mom and Step Dad to Cooperstown. And the day I drove up, I was up early to take care of O and then we spent 8 hours at the US Open Qualifiers.
Then yesterday we walked around Cooperstown and the Baseball Hall of Fame. Then I drove us 4 hours home and went to bed at 11:30pm. Then I woke up this am at 6:15 to WOD (do the work out of the day). Then I worked all day so I could you know, get paid.
Tonight I really just want to sleep. My bed really misses me. But I already made plans with a friend to go to party in the city. And I’ve bought tickets. And tomorrow I’m up early to volunteer with the USTA for Arthur Ashe Kid’s Day at the US Open (which I signed up for months ago). Then tomorrow night I’m celebrating one of my CrossFit friend getting her nursing certification, because we support each other. And then Sunday I am taking O to see the pros practice at the Open and then playing tennis myself with my team.
So, I’m really, fucking tired. And I’m not complaining. I made these plans and I did this to myself. And normally I would be fine with all this and relish the busy. But not today. Today I’m fucking tired. That is all.