Happy Fun Cog

As my lifestyle has become healthier, I've started to drink a lot of water. On some level, it's simply practical: I'm replacing the sweat I'm losing through exercise, I'm taking daily supplements (fish oil, vitamin C, etc.) that go down much smoother with large quantities of water, and I'm hydrating myself to counter the larger amounts of caffeine I've started ingesting now that it's the only recreational drug I allow myself.

In short, if my urine is anything other than clear, I consider myself poorly hydrated.

At the same time, I've also felt like I'm consistently chilly. I wear two pairs of socks at work, with one pair being thick hiking socks. When I'm at my desk, I wear the same knit cap that I wear when I go outside.

Up until the past few weeks, I always assumed that this was due purely to my loss of body fat. But it suddenly: all the water I've been drinking, at least 60 ounces a day at work alone, is cold. Refrigerated. At work, I get my water from the cold tap on the water cooler. At home, I keep my Brita filter in the fridge.

I never thought about the simple fact that drinking cold beverages makes you cold. On an instinctual level, of course, that knowledge was there. But I didn't apply that little piece of knowledge to my daily work. I've since started drinking room temperature water and feel noticeably warmer (though the two pairs of socks and knit cap remain part of my cubicle wardrobe).

As with many of my ruminations, I think that there is a lesson here that applies to other parts of my life. I rarely think about the impact of the things that I take into my body (caffeine, alcohol, food, etc.) and mind (heavy metal music, emotionally challenging movies, etc.). And because I don't think about that, I look at any adverse affect as being evidence of some flaw in me as opposed to being a result of rather superficial conditions that I've created. That's not to discount the power and importance of one's emotions and subconscious, of course, as I believe that the majority of one's conscious experience are based on or shaped by those two factors.

Consider an example: not too long ago, I would start off many days of the week by washing down 10 milligrams of Ritalin with a large, strong cup of coffee and listening to speed metal. Not coincidentally, I also started off those same days with a racing heart, angst, and anger. I assumed that my fast pulse and quick anger were a reflection of some deep, inner turmoil which I could not understand and therefore could not fix. So I thought less of myself and never considered the role of all the external things I was internalizing.