burn, baby, burn

I'm feelin' good.

I've had two welcome days' rest from class (today and yesterday), during which I cooked some amazing meals, had long chats with friends and introduced them to proper South African music, sorted out my budget (which looks better than I thought, although it is still very much a "student" budget), sent a long-overdue email to my paranoid mother, and borrowed K's car to go for a drive on my own (on the RIGHT side of the road, no less). Also, I got most of my anatomy homework done for Friday, and have studied Blackburn's Maternal, Fetal and Neonatal Physiology forwards and backwards, upside-down and inside-out, for tomorrow's Prenatal class.

Returned from gym this afternoon on a high, having totally kicked my butt in the weights room. I'm nowhere near my personal best for squats or deadlift after a long break from lifting this year, but I'm back in the game. I so badly needed this outlet, and had all but forgotten how good it feels to have to call on all my courage and strength and determination while standing underneath a loaded bar.

I'd been in a funk for the past few days, not really feeling anything -- not sad, not happy, just numb. And I know the best cure when I'm like that is either to exercise (like a crazy person), or find someone I trust to talk to, or both. Right now, I'm all talked out, and I can't feel my quads and glutes any more. It's a delicious feeling.

Moral of the story? Shut up and lift.