After a day of jelly legs, followed by an insomniac night, I dragged my semi-recovered body back to gym. Granted, the short walk from our apartment building there made my legs burn, but I still did it. I managed to pump some iron for a bit until I had to bolt out of there with #bellyissues.
They say no pain no gain in sports training, but for us Crohnies, or anyone with a chronic illness, that’s not entirely true. Overdoing it in my case can incite a the evil flare to rage harder, so taking minuscule baby steps is necessary. Do I wish I could go book it for 3 miles a day? Um, yeah! I used to do 7, and now just one would kill my stomach. I would love to participate in Crossfit workouts, pushing my body to the max, getting stronger by the day. But with this body, it’s just not feasible. Not at the pace of a normal twenty-eight year old, anyway. Maybe not even ever. But that’s okay, because the fact I even made an appearance in the gym twice this week is a victory for me. And I’m gonna celebrate!