I have never been one to stick my head in the sand. I have, however, been known to close my eyes and barrel through.
My worst character traits are things I have been fighting since I was a kid. When I was ten I was called out publicly at camp for having accused (without proof) boys of breaking into our teepee and stealing our candy. I still tend to jump to conclusions and make accusations to quickly.
When I was sixteen and asked in Driver's Ed. to reverse through a roundabout. I had never driven in reverse and never taken a roundabout driving forward. So I put it reverse, closed my eyes and stepped on the gas.
I have always been pretty lucky. And I still tend to close my eyes and hit the gas.
For the past week my husband has been laid up on the couch. Coughing, sniffing, moaning a little. I woke on Tuesday with a sore throat. But my marathon training schedule said it was the day for a 22 kilometer run. So on with the neoprene and lycra, and out the door.
I swallowed a lot of pride (along with a lot of mucus) 6 kilometers in. I turned and ran home and figured I could reschedule the long run for Thursday. Still closing my eyes: not sick, barrel through. Kept lunch date with a former student. 3, yes, three, glasses of wine with my avocado sandwich, brainstorming and gossip.
Home five hours later with a fever.
Husband is healthy and out of town, so the couch was available. Good thing I rented a load of films yesterday. No yoga, no push-ups... no wine today.
Looking forward to tomorrow's run. (And I still think those boys took my SweeTarts.)