Rest days is tha best days

I'm lying. I hate rest days. I think about the workout I should be doing when I take a rest day. I think about every bite and drink and how much harder it will be to burn them off. I've been fussed at by multiple trainers about how important the rest day is for the body but none of them know what a dark, self deprecating, soul crushing place I reach when I take one. I took a rest day on Saturday because the natives went to their ancestors' cave (they hung out with the grandparents all weekend) and Hunter and I had two native free nights to ourselves.

Friday night, we attended a small gathering celebrating a rotation around the sun of one of Hunter's friends. We decided to go out to watch a few innings of ball (Gatherer is a very big baseball fan) and hit a local spot to drink a beer and eat a few appetizers. We trusted yelp to give us the lowdown on the top rated watering hole for the area we were in. I'm not sure I trust the yelps anymore. Our food looked great, but that's where the compliments end. We ordered bacon wrapped jalapenos stuffed with cream cheese and they were almost inedible. The jalapenos really needed to have been left on the grill a bit before adding the cream cheese and bacon. There was no flavor, just the heat of a raw jalapeno that hasn't been deseeded or deveined. I've had this dish done well, and it wasn't here. We also ordered fried green tomatoes that were frozen somewhere else and thrown in a fryer at the restaurant. I love fried green tomatoes but these were bland with a very thick, unseasoned batter. I don't bitch much about food but neither dish was good and our service was not great. Our server was eating and drinking with their friends at the table beside us. Definitely not returning.

Saturday was much better, we tried a new spot for breakfast. Was stellar. New franchise to the area with a local owner who is former military. Owners were on site, bussing tables, chatting with customers. Service was great, food was excellently prepared, and came out fast. We thoroughly enjoyed our meal. Saturday afternoon was a crab feast with some of our very best friends. The spread is always amazing when we visit and the company is even better. Y'all gatherer at all the crab, all the ramen salad, all the potatoes, all the homemade peach ice cream and freshly baked cake (not pictured). I drank all the dranks. And even while having the best of times...I couldn't stop feeling guilty. I did a few rounds of planks and mountain climbers by the pool because I was almost panicking about how it was going to feel at the gym on Sunday. I was in a teeennnyy tiinnnnyy little neon green bikini and I felt I looked like Tommy Boy singing fat guy in a little coat by the end of the night. I would snack for a bit and then instantly regret it (everything really did taste amazing so the mental anguish was worth it). I don't let loose like that often, and I know in reality one day of indulgence isn't going to ruin two years of hard work and dedication, but it sure felt like it.

Sunday at the gym I pushed my mile faster than I had been running it. I did more plyo than I normally do. I reverted back to lower weights with double the reps just because I was afraid of looking bulky. I was still so mad at myself. Every time I wanted to give up, I reminded myself of every single think I had done to my body of the last two days. It wasn't a healthy session at the gym, it was punitive not restorative. And this is why I don't take rest days. Because I'm nowhere near the mental place to be kind to myself.