The plague struck the House of Jeffrey this week, with me and my husband both nursing colds and poor little Charlie suffering a virus that left him feverish, rashy and miserable. All this meant that I spent less time than I'd hoped exercising and planning healthy meals (and working and cleaning and showering), and more time sitting on the couch with a sooky toddler, watching Playschool. However, I did manage to get out for some sort of exercise five times this week, which I was pretty proud of – though some sessions were more successful than others. The highlight was getting out to do my sand run the day after that huge storm; I had Bondi Beach all to myself and I felt totally hardcore. The lowlight was 15 minutes later when the rain started pelting down and the wind picked up, flinging needles of stinging sand against my bare legs. Oh, so that's why there was no one else around…
The biggest lesson for me this week is to just do it – to just put on my shoes and walk out the door. Some days I might think I'm barely raising a sweat, but even the slackest workout is better for me than sitting on my bum at home. And you know what? Working out in the rain is kind of cool.
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