Ahhh… last week I went for a long bike ride on Tuesday, and a nice run on Wed, followed by a great hike Wed night. I knew those would be my last hard workouts before the weekend because of The Big Scary Thing. As it turns out, I was more right than I thought I would be. Not only was I not feeling well enough to do anything on Thursday, the day of The Big Scary Thing, but by Friday, my body was conspiring to make me sit down and chill. For days.
OK, that’s fine. I’m mostly recovered now. At least I should be. I don’t have any physical reason for not going for a ride/run/walk. I mean, I can’t swim, but not being able to swim has never really been my main excuse for not actually swimming.
I’m surprised at the level of anxiety, stress and general depression The Big Scary Thing brought with it. It really wasn’t that big, or really that scary, to be honest. Or, at least, the rational side of my brain keeps trying to tell me that. The emotional side keeps reminding me of sitting in the doctor’s office, surrounded by scary equipment, and the feeling of bizarre panic that came over me as the numbing medicine they gave me set in — which is a very strange sensation, to be panicking at the same time that your heart rate drops precipitously.
I’m trying to claw my way back up to where I can at least go out for an easy run. At this point, it’s not really a physical barrier, like it was for the first couple of days. No, at this point, it’s an emotional one. And that really kinda pisses me off. At myself.
I remember thinking to myself yesterday afternoon, “OK, self, this is the last day of depression over this. Time to get up, get moving, and get out of the funk.” And I did. For a bit. Which was good.
But now it’s nearly noon, I’m still in my PJs, it’s sunny out, and I really have no excuse. Time to put my training where my mouth is.