The runs are getting harder, and I'm not a fan. But I also have not had to give up because I haven't been able to do it, so there's a silver lining. I'm also still doing it, so that also counts for something.
Incidentally, logging onto Facebook this morning, I saw a friend of mine had posted this article. For those who aren't going to click the link, it's basically talking about how using BMI as the sole indicator of health is literally the worst, and that a significant portion of people with overweight or obese BMIs were metabolically healthy, with a significant portion of people with "normal" BMIs were not metabolically healthy.
Essentially, BMI as an indicator of health is utter bullshit. If you didn't know that before, you do now. I've known since my first appointment with my doctor. She told me to ignore my BMI reading. I was in brilliant health.
So, if you're struggling with body issues (I feel you), don't rely on the number on the scale or your BMI score. It's bullshit.
Also bullshit: depression.
I'd be doing so well, guys! I'd been so well for so long that I had almost forgotten what depression was like.
I'm still okay. Promise. I'm just having a low moment. It won't last long, I think. For starters, it has manifested this time around as fatigue (that's usual) and anger (that's unusual. Usually it's just... not sadness, exactly, but emptiness). Other issues like a loss of appetite, lethargy and random wild mood swings are still part of it.
Honestly, I think the anger is directed at the depressive episode itself. I'm angry at it, against all logic. How can you be angry at a feeling? But I am. I furious. I've been doing so well. I've been getting up and working out on schedule... mostly. Hush. I've been eating well (and enough, which was a whole other saga). I've been to martial arts training consistently (an improvement over last year, when I was spiralling really, really hard).
I've been doing so well, and depression is trying to take it all away.
Which is bullshit.
It's not happening. I'm angry at it.
Honestly, the anger at the weight dragging me down was what got me out of bed this morning. Anger at threatening emptiness is what kept me running. Anger is what's going to get me to training tonight, where I can punch and kick and pretend it's my depression I'm tearing into.
I don't always have the anger when a depressive spiral hits. But I do now, and I intend to use it.
Because depression is bullshit.
Related: If I appear short with you, please know that I'm going through some stuff, and I don't mean to be rude. I'm trying, promise.
Okay, I'm giving myself permission to do nothing today, except maybe read. I'm off to do either one.