Recently, as in last week, I received a vivid reminder that grief can even apply to exercise. I hate exercise, but I am training for a 5K because I tell myself "it will be fun". (OK, stop laughing). I was out for my morning run, and in a span of two miles, all of the stages of grief were represented, and here is how they played in my head.
Denial/shock: "This will be great- think of how good you will feel when you are done!" huff/puff/huff "Wow, it's nice and cool out here this morning with a light breeze-- perfect".
Anger: "This humidity sucks- I can barely breathe already and I am only in the first quarter mile going up a hill. And this 'breeze' is blowing right in my face, drying out my mouth". A few steps later, "I hate these &^*&%^$ HILLS! Why am I doing this to myself? Am I a glutton for punishment????"
Bargaining: "OK- when I'm finished, and I get ready for work, I will reward myself with a caramel macchiato from Starbucks. I deserve it". "Come on- just get to the bottom of this hill, then you can walk for a bit."
Depression: "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! I hate running!" "Why am I such a big loser? Why can't I be one of those people who gets addicted to running and gets that "runners high"? I don't think that is even REAL".
And finally....
Acceptance: "Crystal, It's OK that you don't like running. And you may never LIKE it, but you need to do it, because it's good for you. Stop beating yourself up, and allow your feelings" (like I tell all of my patients, right?)
Acceptance is a good place to end up- it's a positive thing to complete the whole process before I get back home. I never did go get that caramel macchiato...
