Wednesday, May 06, 2009

Catch-22, defined

The problem: I've been spiraling out-of-control down this slippery funky slope where things I used to enjoy have become a burden, there is a significant lack of motivation of any kind (internal or external), and copious amounts of self-pity have set in. Allow me to clarify (for those who might be worried for my mental health), I don't actually feel sad or unhappy, and I still spend 90% of my day giggling uncontrollably. I just feel like doing nothing. Forever.

The answer: Probably to get off my butt and start running again. I've matched my run-cycle with this weird-funk cycle perfectly. Running makes me happy. Running makes me productive. Running makes me less stressed.

The catch-22: I can not muster the motivation to get out of the house and actually run in order to pull myself out of said spirally-disaster. Which only results in further depths of unmotivated lump-dom. And on the two occasions I did get out the door, it was such an awful run...cue the self-pity.

The cure: I'm gonna run in the morning, and I'm going to like it. And I'm going to do it the next day, and again, until I don't have to write about it on the friggin' interwebs just to make sure I get out and do it.