Do the healthy thing

Yesterday in our neighborhood was cloudy, breezy, cool. It barely got up to 70 degrees [21.1 C] and my energy level was low. Tom was at the railroad and the cats were dozing. Some of my lack of energy, perhaps most of it, was residual depression over Orlando and feelings that the tragedy dredged up. (I have noticed in the past that each new grief resurrects old ones not fully grieved.) Part of it was the result of having had lunch the day before with a friend who is failing more noticeably each time I see her. Part of it was the weather, no doubt.

I ran some errands in the morning, but I didn't feel like doing anything but sitting around. I certainly did not feel like doing any exercise. I considered options -- weights at the athletic club, a long walk around the neighborhood, the treadmill or a dip in the apartment complex swimming pool -- and discarded them all. One part of my brain told me it would be healthy and probably relieve the depression a bit, but another, louder and more persistent part of my brain stuck its fingers in its ears and went, "La, la, la, la, la! I can't hear you!"

After lunch I went to Starbucks and then picked up a few things from Target. When I got home it was almost two, and I decided there was -- and it was -- time to go walk on the treadmill before Tom got home. The la-la-la-la part of my brain kicked in, but this time I ignored it. I changed, went up to the fitness center -- which I had all to myself -- and walked on the treadmill while watching a documentary about the ancient Sumerians. 

Side note: Documentaries about ancient empires, while fascinating, can summon unsettling comparisons to not-so-ancient empires, if you catch my meaning, if you get my drift.

After an hour on the treadmill and a good shower, I felt much better. My mood had lifted and I found myself easily making healthy food choices at and after dinner. I went to bed and slept well.

It helps when I do the healthy things.