War and peace

My love life, which resembles War and Peace in both length and complexity, provided impetus to make healthy choices today. After a rough night wrought with tossing and turning and endless monkey chatter in my brain, I really just wanted to smash something. Hard. Six solid hours of anger and self pity tends to do that to a person. I could have resorted to chocolate bars and a shopping spree, but I decided to tackle my slow long distance run for the week instead.

Turns out it was the best decision ever. I had 1:48 all to myself, with nothing but the brisk, fresh air and the pavement to console me. Around the 4th km I had the rather profound realization that there is actually nothing wrong with me. I had been treated cruelly by a lover. That's all. As this truth set in, and I became increasingly aware of how my body felt running, and how the air smelled, and how vibrant the river valley is at this time of the year, I experienced a sense of serenity so complete that in that moment, I believed myself to be as radiant as I felt.

And this is when I learned that sometimes a little bit of war is needed to fully appreciate the peace that follows. Around the 7th km I approached a 600m hill. A running instructor once told me that walking up a hill is equivalent to running on flat ground. I tend to use this as an excuse to avoid running hills. But today, I felt like a warrior. I found my focus and my will to succeed and I barrelled up that damn hill. A man was just starting his descent as I reached the peak. This man, this stranger, said "good job!" as he passed by me. I suspect I didn't look nearly as radiant as I felt at this point, with my audible wheeze and sweaty face. But with those simple two words, and the physical exhilaration I felt from pushing my body and succeeding, I no longer felt like I was running. I was floating. Totally high.

As I recovered from the effort, that natural high slowly melted back into a feeling of radiant peace that enveloped me as I finished my run. Afterwards, I closed my eyes and allowed myself to linger in those feelings as I stretched. The monkey chatter from the night before was gone. So was the anger and the self pity. I was left with an acceptance of myself that I only rarely allow myself to feel.

So I avoided the chocolate binge. Can't say the same for the shopping spree. A girl deserves a new pair of jeans every once in awhile.....right? :)

First, the ecstasy...

"Procrastination is one of the most common and deadliest of diseases and its toll on success and happiness is heavy." ~Wayne Dyer

Procrastination. It's an art I have mastered. I go to bed each night with the best of intentions for the morning to come, only to awaken to a multitude of excuses, starting with something I like: "I worked so hard sleeping last night, I deserve 20 more minutes in bed." After all, what if I never get the chance to sleep in again? I'm a medical student, such a thing is definitely a possibility. Before I know it, it's too late for my morning run. A few more slaps of the snooze button, and there goes time for breakfast. As wonderful as it feels to snuggle in a nest of blankets and pillows, for me, it comes at a price. Procrastination begets more procrastination, and instead of enjoying the hot shower that  follows my reluctant emergence from bed, I ruminate over the run I didn't do, fret over breaking last night's promise of breakfast, and worry about the fact that the day ahead of me is now most certainly doomed! 

The food addict in me sees a logical solution to this problem. Eat chocolate today, and be healthy tomorrow. Feel good now. Worry later. Stuff my face until all I am aware of is the creamy texture in my mouth, the sweet taste on my tongue, the bliss of being completely separated from my emotions. Until the stomach ache rages and the guilt seeps in, followed by regret, and the damn strong temptation to start the cycle all over again.

But I've learned, time and again, that ecstasy can come from the very things I work so hard to avoid. I've never returned from a run saying, "Geez, I sure wish I didn't do that". I never keel over from gut rot after eating a big green salad. So why do I work so hard to avoid these things? Why is it so much easier to turn to cake? Is it habit? Self-loathing? Is it fear of failure? Of success? Is it just plain laziness? I don't know. 

I'm starting to focus on how good it feels to treat my body well, and it's getting easier to slip on the runners and jog out the door instead of flopping on the couch with a bag of chocolate chips. The feeling of accomplishment and exhilaration I feel post-run whips me into a spiral of healthy choices. I go to bed with high hopes and higher expectations for tomorrow….until the morning alarm sparks another flood of excuses….