What was that about best-laid plans?

Between my angry fit Monday, my new anti-flat-feeted shoes being back-ordered Tuesday, and an underwhelming day off on Wednesday, it's been a craptastic week.

So when everything, miraculously, came together last night, I was elated. I cranked up the speed on my running intervals, set a new personal best, and did it without getting shin splints. It just worked.

When I got home, my right leg (aka. the good leg) started aching. I thought maybe I'd bumped it on something, so I ignored it until this morning when, going down the stairs at home, my shin hurt with every step. Greeeeeat.

The pain isn't insistent, but it's there, threatening. I'm icing often and wrapping my leg, and it seems that running is out for now.

I can't possibly explain how unhappy this makes me.

When life gives you lemons, you throw them away, because really, screw lemons. You get on a bike instead. If what I'm battling is shin splints, it's the impact and my inappropriate shoes causing the problems, not exercise. So I took the time to warm up fully and hit the bikes.

It wasn't nearly as fulfilling, but it was something. And it burned a couple hundred calories, which is good, because the staff potluck at work today (and the unbelieeeeevable potatoes from a friend in accounting) made me exceed my allotted daily calories by 3pm. Oof.

Definitely didn't earn the ice cream cone I was hoping to have tomorrow. Whether or not I'll be mature enough to understand that when I'm staring those delicious scoops of peppermint bon bon remains to be seen.

What I'm saying is that I'm human. This week has been a comedy of errors, culminating in me being half-lame and piling on the holiday calories. But it happens, and perhaps the best demonstration of how much I've grown in this journey is the fact that I forgive myself for all of it.

I'd say tomorrow is a new day, but I'm pretty sure I'll have that ice cream cone. So. Sunday is a new day. A big, shiny, beautiful one. I'll shoot for that.