I spent this weekend away from home, at my friend Linda's house in Schaumburg. It's the area I used to live in, about two towns away from my old place in Arlington Heights.
In a lot of ways, spending time up there - our plans arranged around classes at the gym - is like coming home. It's a treat to my soul, so it's worth feeling sore and tired when it's all over.
Looking back over the weekend, it's no wonder. Over three days, I managed to do yoga, followed by swimming. I got to 1,000 meters in about 35 minutes; that's a huge difference from the girl who learned to swim two years ago and could barely go 25 meters without stopping to catch her breath. I worked in spin class and weights, and capped it all off with an hour of salsa/funk (oh, my soul, we must sing like that again soon).
Then I had to come home. And bake. I'm not so great with the planning, yo.
But the thing is, from my vantage point this morning, it was a perfect weekend. Active. Filled with people who love me. (FYI, often times being around people who love you will result in hugging. This is a good thing.) Yes, I'm exhausted. From pushing myself to the limit at the gym to staying up way too late, it's easy for weekends like this to take a toll. But for what I got in return, I'd do it again in a heartbeat.
Which is a good thing, because I'm headed to St. Louis for a wedding this weekend!
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