Rest.

Since I joined the gym about a month ago, I have done some sort of exercise every single day.

Every. Day.

It wasn't always running. Some days, it was just spin and core exercise class. Sometimes, it was lifting weights and spin.

I need a day. I need a day. My almost-41-year-old body is telling me that every morning.

So, tomorrow, I'm taking one. I am not doing any exercise at all. Nada. Nil. Nothing.

I decided that this morning, when it took me longer than it should to get out of bed, walk to the bathroom, feed the dog.

I could take today, but today is what I consider a "free" day -- Katie doesn't have dance class this evening, so I can get to running as soon as I get the kids -- and I hate to waste it. Today is also the day I go to spin, and I do not want to miss that.

So, tomorrow...

I made up my mind, made the decision, mentioned it to my kids, and now...

I'm already feeling panicky about it.

I know, I know, I know.

A day off is not going to put 40, 60 or 100 pounds back on me.

A day off is not going to negatively affect my running. Not my speed, my pace, my drive, my determination.

I used to resist rest days because I used to be the type of person who could talk herself out of exercise quite easily. So, a day off could lead to a second day off and then a third, and so on.

I'm not that person any more.

I need to remember that.