On recovery, endorphins, and a stupidly brief stab at lifting weights.

I've been a jerk for the last week. I've been home from Disney for two. I had a week of post-Dopey, pseudo-endorphin fueled euphoria! I ate a lot of food. I slept a lot. I wore my Oofos around the house. I updated my blog to try to grab those memories from Dopey. I didn't unpack my suitcase (although I did make a half-hearted effort at it). I didn't run.

And then I had this week. And this week, it felt like there wasn't anything that didn't trigger a reaction in me--either internally or externally. I was spending the week just below boil. I don't think that's my normal mental temperature; it didn't feel "normal" to me, and I was aware that my reactions to just about everything felt larger than they needed to be. I still didn't run. 

In the last year and a half, I have not gone more than four days without running. For the second half of 2016, I was on a streak. I ran 180+ days straight. And at the end of that running streak at the start of 2017, I started marathon training for the Illinois marathon. And at the end of that training cycle, I started training for the Dopey Challenge. By the end of the year, I had run 1281.38 miles. 

So when I got back from Dopey, I decided to take PLENTY of time off. Two whole weeks. I should have recognized the signs of withdrawal: depression, anxiety, difficulty concentrating, muscle aches and pains, insomnia. Sorry, friends and co-workers. 

And then today I ran. How on earth do people live without the endorphins from running? I even stopped at the Fitness Center to lift after my run (rare!). For a full three hours after my run (of just four miles), I was planning to take on the world. I started by rather unsuccessfully cleaning the house, followed that by taking my daughter to lunch in town and some grocery shopping, came home and finally unpacked my Dopey suitcase. My brain was working in overdrive, too. Wild. 

The timing of Dopey is tricky. It hits right at the beginning of January--the time of year when most of the country is making New Year's resolutions and setting goals for the coming year. Meanwhile, I kicked off the year by nailing a goal from the previous year. And in the two weeks after completing the challenge, I haven't been able to even think about what's next. Feels like just about everyone is thinking only about "What's next?" in their own lives (understandably.) And while I'm not a new year's resolution sort of a gal, I am a goal-oriented gal, but I've had to give myself permission to not think that way. 

Which brings me to today. I lifted when I finished my run. Not sure what that was about. I even considered going online and posting a request for someone to help me learn more about lifting... the horror. I'll have to revisit this one again later in the week. Post-run today, I felt ready to do anything. I'm off that. But I do have to figure out what's next. So maybe what's next is to figure out what's next.