Creaky Floorboards

I went to bed late last night, woke up early to the sound of my neighbor’s baby crying, and now the sleep debt is catching up. This morning marked the first time in seven weeks I didn’t work out. I just couldn’t summon the will. I feel kind of glum. Heavy, even.

It’s strange how tightly the body and the mind are stitched together. I used to think they were mostly separate—like neighbors waving across a fence. But lately, I’m realizing they’re more like housemates, sharing a creaky floorboard. When one stumbles, the other feels it. I think it’s called interoception—the process by which the brain senses and interprets signals from the body (like heart rate, breathing, gut sensations) and folds them into emotional experiences. I’m sure that’s why exercise can often play a meaningful role in treating depression: it generates positive somatic feedback—faster heartbeat, heavier breathing, muscles remembering their own strength.

The emotional benefits are one of the main reasons why I exercise regularly. Being strong—and not becoming morbidly obese as I overindulge in my favorite hobby of eating—are just nice side effects. I know antidepressants help a lot of people. But for me, I’ve found that healthy living seems to be enough. At the very least, get to experience a fuller range of emotions, while being able to actively regulate them (to some degree) when things get a bit too intense.

Today, though, there was no lifting, no grunting, no small victories. But I think I’ll forgive myself for not working out. Not every day has to be a sprint. Maybe today is for resting. Tomorrow will be another day. And maybe, with a little more rest, another small victory too.