I was incredibly anxious this week, in an intangible, unsettling, something is wrong and I’m not sure what, sort of way. It was frustrating. Knowing – actively knowing – that your mind is feeling a certain way and being completely unable to control it – even with things that normally control it – is infuriating. Naturally, when this happens (and it happens, luckily much more on the occasional side now than ever before), I start to analyze and connect the dots between the feelings and the triggers, so that there isn’t a similar next time.
This one I’m blaming on San Francisco.
I really do love the city, but particularly over the past few weeks, post a Christmas-week long-coming mental meltdown, I’ve hit a really natural stride up in Tahoe. I’m genuinely content. Life is balanced. I am happy. I have a rhythm that I like. I have friends that I’m enjoying getting to know. Skiing is on par. My running training is picking up… and suddenly breaking that routine to put away my boots and winter coats and dig out from the depth of a closet some dresses and ‘real’ clothes and non-snow shoes to re-enter city/tech-life is a bucket of cold water shock to the system. My past few trips down to the Bay have been less than ‘easy’ or really enjoyable, and I’ve been feeling very Elsa-esque living up in my ice castle and haven’t been overly keen to thaw.
I was driving down 80 yesterday descending through the gradual change of blizzard to slush to rain, and with every foot of elevation change, it was like a little icicle dagger of some memory or anxious thought rushing back in. This wasn’t the first time this has happened, but it was the first time I was conscious of exactly what it was and tried to attack it with a bit of ‘suck it up, buttercup’ healthy dose of perspective… because really, going to San Francisco is not that bad – I have never had any issue occupying myself in and around the city, rain or shine. More importantly, this week – which is my mind was just a negative blob of negativeness – was not that bad. It was actually really pleasant – there is nothing awful, destructive or sad that happened. Instead:
– I skied three times. Our last-minute Friday powder day was an awesome mix of winding through trees, epic faceplants and lost skis in feet of fluff, and lunch chat and afternoon laughter.
– Our planned (but cut slightly short) Saturday was a powder blizzard adventure, where Anna, Bridget and I did our own version of the Women’s March exploring Alpine’s limited open terrain, laughing and whooping our way through trees and down cliffs.
– I hit all of my training targets, including what was probably the hardest run I’ve ever done (…a snowshoe tempo, during an insane burst of snow activity), and while my quads and hamstrings are crying from all of the snow and hills, all athletic endeavors this week were extreme and miserably enjoyable.
– Work was uneventfully fine, and I continued my streak of starting my workday at 6am so I could get outdoors at lunch. I probably need to do a little better at stopping at a reasonable hour in the evening though; I got a bit too sucked in too late a few nights.
– I stopped whining about having to leave Truckee a day early thanks to the four feet of snow about to dump and the impending closure of all routes out of the basin (you know it’s bad when the NOAA explicitly states do not travel), and being annoyed at having to find a way to spend the day in SF in expected rain, that I couldn’t ski, and that my Saturday plans were all thwarted (…and being annoyed that I was annoyed at all of that) and spent the morning crossing rushing waters around Muir Woods and Mt Tam (and reminding myself that I can, in fact, still actually run) and then catching up with Rachel in her new Mill Valley digs.
So yea. Suck it up, buttercup, things ain’t so bad. It’s time to attack this week.
(Just please, no mid-week emergency surgeries this time, Otis. Okay?)