Honestly, someone remind me next January when the days and short and the temps freezing that I was complaining about the weather in July, too. I deserve a kick in the butt. But seriously, man, is this the 6th or 7th day of record high temps in the Boston area? Today’s temp reached 93. It was a temperate 92 when I hit the pavement this afternoon, on my home turf, seen here.
My last two runs were indoors, on the treadmill at the Y, and given my mental precariousness I thought it important to stop short of a hat trick. So I sucked in the suffocating humidity and cruised my ‘hood before pick up at day care.
The silver lining of those indoor workouts? Laps in the pool. My sprint triathlon is only days away. Cross training feels good!
I also chose this week of all weeks to give up drinking, or at least abstain for… Awhile. My tolerance for alcohol has crept up alarmingly. This was hard for me to ignore once I realized I could keep pace drinking beer with my six foot tall, 220 lb husband at an outdoor festival a couple weeks ago. I am 5’4″ and 128 lbs. So yeah, time to cut back.
The one or two glasses of wine each night was most certainly a way for me to deal with untreated anxiety, and now that I’m on Prozac I feel good enough to try to go without the drinks… At least to perform an experiment of sorts. See how I respond; if it’s a problem.
I’m happy and very relieved to say that after 7 days it has not been difficult.
In fact it’s more than relief that I’m feeling. It fucking rocks. It feels great to know my anxiety is under control. And anxiety that I might secretly be an alcoholic? That was just the anxiety talking. It’s not real.
People with chronic depression and anxiety become so good at lying to them selves and making up things to worry about. It becomes difficult to see the truth about yourself, even when you pride yourself on seeing right through other peoples’ bullshit.
Anyway. It’s been a hot week.