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.

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