A Gnu Concept in Fitness

Trainer: "Be brave, don't be shy. BE BRAVE!! Be your inner wildebeest!!!"

...I don't think he actually knows what a wildebeest is.

 

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Grey Sky Blues.

I've lived my entire life in the Northeast. As much as I enjoy the variety that having four seasons brings, winter has a disproportionate share here in New England, or at least it feels that way. Right about mid-February, all my winter appreciation is spent. I'm tired of dirty snow banks, the slush and ice, the stupid optimists who keep insisting, "Spring is coming!" and most of all, the amount of time I spend inside, breathing recycled air.

As my mood reaches surly bear level, the country itself levels one more blow at me: Daylight Savings Time. Oh, how cruel it is! Just when I'm starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel, by which I mean the sun in the morning, before I go to work, I'm quite literally plunged back into darkness. It sounds pretty pathetic that an artificial adjustment in schedule could have such an impact, but it takes me weeks to recover.

I start sleeping All. The. Time. When I'm not shutting out the world via sleep, I'm probably stuffing my face with every carbohydrate-laden food known to man, being completely oversensitive to small upsets, breaking out in full body eczema (is it the stress or the aridity?), and then scrounging in my cabinets for more carbs to eat at my kitchen counter (mac & cheese, you are the devil). When I descend fully into March Madness, the whole thing devolves into a vicious cycle of self-hatred, where I not only enact all those behavoirs, but deeply hate myself for doing so at the same time. I know it's coming every year, so you'd think I'd be prepared by now, and the truth is that it's insidious, and almost always upon me before I'm aware. At that point, I'm usually sunk deep enough that its a struggle to claw my way out - but I have definitely developed some coping mechanisms.

Exercise. This is #1 because it has been the most effective way for me to not be a sad sack of crap from February - whenever Mud Season ends. On top of those delightful chemical releases, I always feel a very lasting sense of self-worth and accomplishment when I set a fitness goal (non-scale, typically) and meet it. Last year I was training for the Tough Mudder, and I think it was probably my best winter yet. This year, I don't have a good long-term goal, so I've actually been a bit de-railed in recent weeks. Luckily, those endorphins are instant feel-good feedback, so it's been a pretty easy transition back.

Nature. Despite the cold, the slush, the mud, I force myself to spend time connecting to the outdoors, even if it is from the pavement. The sun is mostly hidden, but being outside when it shows itself reminds me that it is not all bad. There is beauty even in this most hated time of year. There are also signs that this too shall pass. Today, I saw the first cardinal I've seen in months, and he was singing his heart out at the top of a pine, a glorious contrast to the evergreen and white around him.

Diet. Sadly, the carb cops don't pull up and shout, "MA'AM. STEP AWAY FROM THAT LOAF OF BREAD. PUT DOWN THE PASTA AND THE CHEESE, WE'VE GOT YOU SURROUNDED." Eventually, though, I do remember the connection between what I put in my body and how it feels, and I try to shift the balance by stocking only the good stuff in my cupboards, and being meticulous about actually sitting down to eat meals. At a table. I might miss the mac at first, but eventually vegetables and good sense win out. (And, yes, the wine helps.)

Meditation. I regret that I am not more consistent in my practice of this - I've got a busy mind, prone to overdrive, and I bet that a routine of meditation would help me stay balanced. But, I never seem to turn to it until I'm desperate and that is usually when it's hardest to do. I have a mental image/memory that helps: it's summer, and I'm on a ridge in a coniferous forest. The sun is coming through a break in the trees, and I'm surrounded by saturated color; red-brown bark, straw colored pine litter, and a hundred greens - from the lightly grey-hued lichen to the rich verdant moss and needles. I'm sitting on the the forest floor, in a soft pile of needles. The warm scent of resin rises all around me. Sometimes I can't recall the feeling of the sun warming my skin, but I never forget that smell (which, incidentally, might protect us from climate change) and it always brings me peace.

The recent spell of warm weather (by spell, I mean the past two days) has definitely lifted my spirits. Also, it looks like syrup season has finally begun (sap flows best with warm days and cold nights) and who can be sad, thinking about pancakes? Eventually, perhaps, the solution to all of this will simply be to move somewhere a little less arctic, but for now, I'm surviving.

 

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