Well, That Backfired

Well, after my giant epiphany that crochet might be a slightly unhealthy hobby—given how much sitting around it involves—and my declaration that I needed to make a more intentional effort to move my body… guess what happened?

I got a stomach bug.

And not a casual, “I don’t feel great” kind of bug. A full, knocked-me-flat, bed-bound-for-over-two-days situation. It was terrible. I had plans. Productive, moving-my-body, living-my-life plans. None of them happened.

But guess what did?

I crocheted.

Because apparently, if I’m going to be stuck in bed feeling queasy, bloated, and deeply grateful I’m not actively puking, I might as well make it count.

And I did.

I made real progress on Panel A of my first-ever crocheted top. And then—because I’ve learned just enough to be dangerous—I made the very wise decision to start Panel B before finishing A, just to make sure my sizing and tension are actually consistent.

I’m happy to report that today I laid them out side by side…

…and they match.

There are still plenty of rows left on both, so yes, there is still time to mess it all up. But today? Today it looks right.

And that—honestly—feels like an accomplishment.

And also—because apparently we are a woman of extremes now—today I forced myself to my trainer’s house and pushed through an intense, hour-long workout.

I didn’t quit.

Even when I wanted to.

Even when I thought I might actually throw up from the intensity.

I stayed.

So no, this week didn’t look like I planned.

But I showed up anyway.

In bed.

On the couch.

On the mat.

And I am so proud of me.