I must be one of the few people I know who doesn’t seem guaranteed to get the endorphin boost from exercise. If I run, which I mostly fail to do these days, I do feel it. The trouble with that is the rush sets me up for a high high which generally precedes a low low.
Other forms of exercise:swimming, classes, sometimes yoga and cycling – I can lose the will to live in the middle of doing them.
I make the effort to do something though to keep mind, body and spirit in balance. At 45 one must. Use it or lose it (they say) and I for one want to hang onto my synovial fluid for as long as poss! So in some ways, how I feel about the exercise itself is irrelevant, but it does lead to some challenging mood swings in the course of an hour.
Yesterday in the middle of boxercise I was overcome with alienation from the entire human species. As women seemingly shuffled about with various equipment I felt not revulsion but a deep sense of disconnection from people. This is not how I usually feel and the shift was so abrupt I could not help but be mentally jolted by it. I could quip at this point and say it was having to endure Beyonce on the sound system screeching Who Won the World repeatedly, but although I HATE that track it was probably unrelated.
And so to dreams. My mood having slipped into the abyss, I went to bed early. I slept badly, fitfully. The headache I have had on and off for a fortnight took hold but in my half awake state I couldn’t organise myself to get any painkillers.
Finally asleep for a little while, a Dutch doctor conjured up from my subconscious took pity on me, heard my problems and listened to my heart for a little too long. Maybe it was not beating. We waited. Connection was restored.
And because all dreams have to have some sort of surreal element to them, I drove right into today’s consciousness along a European pavement busy with shoppers.
Today involves people again, I wonder how I will fare.