I hate March. There I’ve said it. It’s my least favorite month of the year, for several reasons. First and foremost are the memories it brings back. Yesterday, March 8th, was the fifteenth anniversary of my son’s death. I can feel myself tensing up each year as March rolls around. I doubt that will ever change.
Another reason March is on my shit list is the crappy weather. And wasn’t that obvious this year? A famous anecdote associated with March is that it “comes in like a lion, and goes out like a lamb.” March 1st, our house was smothered in a foot of snow. Lion? More like a freakin’ Tasmanian Devil. At least “the lamb” showed up a few days later, with a beauteous weekend with 70+ degree temps.
March is also traditionally the month that I get the sickest. And once again, that proved true this first week. Gotta love those upper respiratory viruses…I won’t call it a cold ‘cuz it went beyond that. It felt like the flu, only without the body aches and temp. I missed a week of working out, and am only resuming today because I can finally breathe without feeling like I’m going to pass out. It’s still gorgeous out, so looks like I’m headed out for a long fast-paced walk…maybe sprinkled with a few minutes of running in between. It all depends on how quickly the bod is able to recoup after the week of illness.
March is also the start of my hair pulling time of year….spring school sports vying with travel softball AND little league. My day planner looks like my mommy time has just gone on hiatus. Luckily I can get my house chores (can we all say “yuck”?) and workouts in while the kiddos are in school, ‘cuz after school it’s go, go, go until bedtime.
Aaaah, March. Wonder if I can start a petition to have it wiped off the calendar? Can we just start spring in February or April? That’ll give me something to ponder as I head out for my walk/run.