In just over a week’s time, I let everything go to shit.
Meter average is up 40 points. (Note: Do you call the mg/dL units “points,” too?) I haven’t exercised since before the IDF Congress. For much of the last two weeks, I’ve spent way too much time in the car, on a plane, on a train, or sitting in meetings. I had a pump-meets-dress conundrum that resulted in a frustration-induced pump vacation. I haven’t achieved nearly the amount of sleep I need to remain human. Food choices/offerings have been crap, as a result of traveling and laziness and poor planning.
And is there a tutorial on the web for Star Wars snowflakes or am I having uncomfortably specific dreams again? (Answer: oh MY.)
The cumulative effect of this lack of attention to my health is that I feel like I’m rolled in Play-Doh. Just a few days without exercise and decent food or sleep has taken me down several pegs in my health-o-meter, and I’m itching with anticipation to de-slothify. For me, so many aspects of my health are tied together, which means when one goes, they all go. Like in Backdraft. (“You go … we go.“ Such a good scene.)
Which means that I have to make a conscious and immediate effort to rein things in before it escalates. I have zero desire to take steps backwards in my healthcare. It’s been less than two weeks of slacking off, and that’s not long enough for a habit to form. Now that I’m home for several weeks, it’s time to get things back to form.
… yes, this is the pep talk I’ve been giving myself on the train ride home from New Jersey this afternoon. But now I’ve written it down, which means I will hold myself accountable. Damn it.