I was a stay-at-home mom for 3 1/2 years for my one little boy and frankly, began to run to keep my sanity. As the story goes, I became obsessed and instead of talking about my boy all the time, I talked about running.
One neighbor of mine (in my last town) was far more sympathetic than others. He was a handsome, slender man in his late 50's who ran farther, longer, faster, and more gracefully than I could ever dream of. His advice was only offered if asked but his eyes always soften in delight when anyone expounded on the joys and pains of running. After seeing him at a few races, I indulged my curiosity and looked up his finishing times. Basically, he finished a 10K faster than my 5K.
My respect morphed into a wee idol-crush when he offered me up a pseudo-scientific nugget explaining the runner's high. I was telling him that I went on a long bike ride and just felt cruddy afterward, rather than joyful like I do after running. He said, rather convincingly, that only running and jumping on a trampoline offer the effects of the Runner's High. Something about the bouncing and metronome effect. I think he elaborated more eloquently or perhaps I misunderstood because I was distracted after learning who his brother was, but I've been convinced ever since then that only running and bouncing on a trampoline can kick down a hit of the endorphins I've been craving like a junkie since I sacrificed my running life for a paycheck.
So, I went from a Half-marathon every other month to calling 5 miles my "long run." From running 30 miles a week to eking out 8. Changing climates hasn't helped, either. Normally, if I didn't have time, I'd wake up super early (I've been known to run at 3:45 am). But Sisters, I've just gotten accustomed to these hills, I can't deal with 30 degrees, too! (TREMENDOUS respect to those of you who do!!!!)
This brings me to my original point when I began this post: I've lost my mind. I've been "bloated"* and tired and G-R-U-M-P-Y. I'm totally jonzin' for cardio.
Only, I can't get out for a run, don't have a treadmill, can't figure out how to rig up a makeshift bike trainer, and somehow lost my jumprope in the move.
So I started to jog in place. And jump. And kick. And bust out "dance" moves from the 80's. I pumped my arms and pretended I was Footloose. I exercised my demons** for 30 minutes. It was neither running nor jumping on a trampoline, but dang, I needed that.
*No, I will not call it weight gain until I'm 10 lbs heavier...just 4 lbs to go.