I’ve been in a bit of a funk these past few weeks. I’ve had no idea what is causing it, which has been driving me even crazier than I already am. I feel out of sorts. Melancholy. Not unhappy, but not really happy either. I feel like I’m sort of drifting through life without a purpose. I want more, I NEED more or else I’m just going to disintegrate into a puddle of boredom and nothingness. Either that or my ass is going to become permanently attached to my couch, which is even less appealing.
I’ve been trying to figure out what’s gone wrong, why I feel so disheartened with everything. I thought it was some sort of existential problem, that my life is lacking meaning of some kind. Then I thought maybe it was because it was a holiday recently (we had a four day weekend for Easter) and everybody I know was either away with their partners or their families. I didn’t have anything to do or anybody to go see, which was pretty depressing. But then I ended up going over to a friend’s house for easter dinner, so that ended up being FUN, which doesn’t explain the melancholy. It was just WEIRD. Why was I feeling like this?
I finally realised, after more than two weeks of pondering, that actually, it probably has nothing to do with any of that. The only thing that has changed in my life recently is that my regular climbing and running partners have been out of town. So I haven’t been climbing for two weeks, which is enough to drive me up the wall. Then my running partner was sick, then I got sick too, which has kept me from running. Well, that plus I hate running by myself due to the inherent mind-numbing boredom (look, a tree! Look, another tree! Ooh! There’s a DOG! Ok, I’m really tired now).
I’ve never really been one to believe in the whole ‘runner’s high,’ though I’ve read a lot about it. I work out on a very regular basis and I have to say, though I do enjoy it, I don’t get euphoric when I’m working out. I mean I’m sweaty, red-faced, frizzy-hair sticking out from my head in every direction, both lungs and thighs burning, by the time I finish I’m ready to fucking STOP already. I’m usually euphoric that I can go home and sit on the couch for awhile. I’ve never really gotten a high while working out, though that’s probably because I’ve never run for longer than an hour at a time. I hear the high comes at around the 1-1.5 hour mark (and it better, because I tell you, after running for that long, you’d NEED a high to keep going). Anyway, basically though I enjoy running and I feel happy when I’m working out on a regular basis, I never really thought it was a crucial part of my psychological makeup.
Apparently, it is. Because the only thing that’s changed in the past two weeks is my lack of exercise and I’ve been totally in the dumps. So there you go. Regular exercise makes me feel better. Yes, I am a total genius. In other news, puppies are cute and snow is cold. You heard it here first.