I ended up huddled on the couch, blanket pulled up over me with my arm flung across my eyes in true Scarlet O'Hara fashion. Ok. I've never seen Gone With the Wind. That admission may get me kicked out of the south, which is a shame because I've grown fond of using the term "y'all" without getting weird looks. Anyway, this is the image I have in my head of Scarlet O'Hara. "Oh, Rett. Ma head is positively aching." Dude's name was Rett, right?
So, I've spent most of my life believing I have a very high threshold for pain. Nu-uh. Untrue. I am a pansy. I am a little poo poo crybaby. I was pretty sure I was dying last night. There was a moment when I thought some long-dormant creature might actually have been awakened by a lack of processed sugar and was trying to burrow its way out of my head. My parents told me about this show they watched about strange illnesses where this woman had worms living in her scalp and none of the doctors would believe her until one finally saw them moving under her skin. Ok. Now I'm creeped out again.
At any rate, I managed to get to sleep at some point last night, or maybe it was this morning. But I woke up headache-free. Like all the pain never even happened.
Last night I was vowing to quit. However, having several people ask me about it today made me realize that I've made this commitment way too public to stop now. Whatever.
I'm officially declaring that Beachbody was WRONG about which days are usually the worst. Day 8 totally sucked. Actually, it was evening 8 that totally sucked balls. I'm better today, though I am starting to feel the nudgings of another headache, so we'll see what 8pm brings. It better bring sunshine and daisies because my Hoosiers Will Sheehey and Yogi Ferrell are representing in the World University Games. I need to be alert and pain-free to enjoy it.
On a bright note, I was reminded how badass I am for completing my ChaLEAN Extreme challenge last month:
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