i reckon HC was right; my slump the past couple weeks was due to an endorphin withdrawl, brought on by a distinct lack of excercise. this past week has been the absolute pits. i've had no energy, i felt really fat, i havn't gotten any work done (even though i've had loads of time), and i've been sulky and whiney and complaining every 10 seconds when the Hairy Man doesn't text me. In short, i've been behaving like a moody teenager.* God help us.
Salvation arrived yesterday in the form of a new 1100 mAh batter for my ipod. I can't do fuck all without music. I love to run, but i can't do it without music. And preferably a body of water to run beside.** And I flat out cannot erg without tunes. (I know people who find silent erging meditative and shit, but frankly they are freaks of the hightest magnitude.)
I must say, I was rather impressed with my ability to dismantl my own pod, remove the hard drive, change the battery, and put it all back together again in working order, thereby FUCKING apple. *pats self on the back*
So last night after the pod was charged I donned the ol' Nikes and spandex and took to the river bank, where I had a lovely, long moonlight run. It was the first excercise I'd had in almost 2 weeks, and the first endorphin rush from something other than, erm, well, you know...
And my GOD it felt good! I left the windows open and slept in the fresh air, relaxed and happy. I woke up this morning feel charged, not groggy, so I put the shorts and sneakers back on and DID IT AGAIN. I know I know. But think of it this way: if you give up chocolate for Lent, do you not immediately gorge yourself on cadbury eggs and chocolate bunnies the moment you wake up on Easter morning? Oh yes you do.
Now, the purpose of running (besides a chance to sing along to Billy Joel at the top of your lungs in public) is to develop cardiovascular fitness and endurance. I have found that the best way to achieve this is always to do a full out sprint at the very end of the run. In this way it mimicks a race, where the fastest and hardest part is the sprint in the last 400m.
So this morning I ran a few miles (in the sunshine!!!), and as I reached the city centre, a prettyish paved area with fountains and container flowers and people selling newspapers and coffee, i wound it up. In the space of about 12 paces or so I drive my pace up from my usual jog to flat-out run-for-your-life there's-a-Trex-on-my-tail gold-medal Flo-Jo-can-kiss-my-ass sprint. People standing around, innocently perusing their papers and chatting with the coffee merchants, look up as they hear my goliath feet thundering toward them and scatter like so many pigeons in my path.
Now that's an endorphin rush.
*me acting like a moody teenager is a bit like watching a full grown male silverback gorilla swing from the trees like a lemur on crack. Behavious which are tolerable in small animals are just not acceptable in something 10 times the size. So when I act like a moody teenager, bear in mind that I'm acting like a 5'11", 81 kg teenager. It's just so utterly unseemly. [hangs head in shame]
**give me an ocean beach of smooth, hard sand, a breezy sunrise, and the theme to Chariots of Fire playing on the pod, and I will run for hours, joyfully filling my lungs with the salt air and scattering seagulls in my path. Heaven!