Category: Depression

Me in my head

Jess Guth1 Comment

Ah right, where are we. It’s the end-ish of April. It’s well over a months since I last posted. I wrote the last post while we were away and I was all set for starting week 2 of couch to 5km. Then I got food poisoning or a nasty tummy bug and wiped myself out for a week. Eventually I started back on the bike, the new gym opened and I went to some classes and did a couple of strength sessions and I have done the odd yoga flow and workout at home. I even went for a run while at a conference in Glasgow. But nothing is quite clicking.

After attending the yoga class at the gym for the first time I wrote the following LinkedIn post. Since then I have been wondering if maybe I need to call out my own BS. Am I fitter than I look? The bit that I think is true is that I do indeed have a lot of experience. However, having spent chunks of time in the gym where there are mirrors everywhere, having been in several classes where I have struggled with some bits and having tried to go back to basics with running and with the bike, I am not so sure I am actually fitter than I look. And I don’t look fit.

I have noticed that the more time I have spent in the gym the less I feel like I belong there. The more classes I have been too, the less confident I am in taking up space in them, the more I go out and try and tick off the couch to 5km runs, the less I feel like a runner and as for the bike, well I never really believed that was for me. I was asked recently if I enjoyed the gym and the classes. My answer was that I am not that keen but that I do it because it makes me a better runner or even just allows me to run without getting injured. I want that to be true but it assumes I am currently running. In truth, I am not enjoying any of it. It’s miserable. All of it is unreasonably hard. I am stiff and creaky, weak, inflexible, have nothing on cardio and not even the willpower the swear mostly. This morning I did a 20 minute Joe Wicks strength workout, and by did I mean I tried but I modified every other exercise and for one I just quietly sobbed in something vaguely resembling child’s pose which I can’t properly get into because by tummy gets in the way and my hips won’t flex.

None of the tricks are working. I can’t motivate myself because I am struggling to trick my brain into getting it done. I know exercise is awful when you first start, when you have to claw yourself back to fitness. I feel like I have been clawing my way back since the first Covid infection in 2020. I feel like every time I make a tiny bit of progress, something happens. I feel like I haven’t had the chance to string any sort of consistency together. For the last few years I have never got beyond the ‘this is awful’ phase of exercise. I haven’t had the wins. I haven’t had the things that make it worth it. I haven’t been able to claim ‘strong not skinny’ for myself, I haven’t been able to focus on what my body can do rather than what it looks like because it can do so little at the moment. I haven’t even been able to say ‘This Girl Can’ because this girl can’t. And most of the time I was fine with that. I was fine with starting over over and over again, with making minimal progress, getting derailed and then going again. But now? I don’t know what has shifted. Maybe it’s the mirrors all over the gym, maybe it’s the lack of modifications given in most gym classes, maybe it is the constant ‘how to lose weight in your 40s’ advertising that hits my social media feeds, I don’t know. But for the first time in well over a decade I suddenly care that I am fat. It doesn’t feel like just a descriptor in the way that it has done for so long. I have forgotten that I don’t care what people think and suddenly found myself worrying about that. I have forgotten that it has never been about size and weight and have suddenly become concerned about both of those numbers, I have forgotten they are just numbers to which we have arbitrarily assigned value. I feel judged by the numbers. I have forgotten running, exercise, movement is about me and for me and not about anyone else or expectations or conforming to some weird normative bullshit about what my body looks like or can do. It’s swirling into one rather body conscious mess that makes getting out there doing the things that will help bring clarity and balance harder.

So today I wanted to start getting my head sorted but most things at the minute just feel like pressure. I could make a plan – what exercise do I want to do when. And I can do this well, my plans are good and sensible. I have been around this stuff for long enough to have a sense of what works and what is realistic. I could do a really ambitious but doable plan and I could also do a really gentle be kind to yourself through this wobble plan but just the idea of having a plan of any kind just made me convince myself that I would probably just disappoint myself. I thought I could use stickers again and give myself a sticker for every day where I manage to run, cycle or go to the gym – the stickers used to work well but now it just feels like it risks having to look at days and days without stickers when I inevitably don’t manage it. My self talk about just trying to do something was annoying and a bit preachy and anything inspirational that might have made me snap out of it was just not for me…

A week or so ago Kath told me about a conversation with her coach about visual representation of runs or mileage or whatever. And Kath has decided to use Lego – so no colouring in for miles run or workouts completed but instead Kath is, over time, going to build the house from Disney’s ‘Up’. I like this. Stickers on a calendar leave gaps, building something with lego doesn’t leave gaps, the progress and effort made are visible and remain for you to add to even if you miss some time. So I want to build my mini Disney Castle. I decided today that for every day where I manage to go out there and take up space in the fitness and exercise world, run, go to a class or the gym, cycle, whatever, I build. Brick by brick. I almost felt positive about it and thought that this long weekend I could literally lay the foundations for my own little castle of magic and dreams. But I can’t find the box. The castle is built on a shelf in my study. But the box and instructions? We have now searched the house from loft to every cupboard in the house. Can’t find it. Now I know I can download the instructions and I can keep the pieces in ziplock bags. It’s not actually a huge deal. But it felt like it. It felt like the universe saying ‘That castle of magic and dreams – yeah not for you’.

And while I am typing this, my lower back niggles, my bra is digging in, my right foot hurts for no reason and I know that I need to and want to snap out of it and get back to getting better at doing hard. I can do hard. Hell, I can do the impossible. It’s fun to do the impossible, or it used to be. Trusting the process, being patient and just trying to do something, trying to be kind and trying to call myself out when I am just being lazy is hard. I am ok doing hard. I don’t expect easy, it can be impossible for all I care. I will do it anyway, but what I can’t seem to do right now, is deal with feeling judged and like my value is somehow attached to numbers – numbers of the scales, on the clothes labels, on my Garmin or on the weights I am using at the gym. And the most annoying thing about this is – I am pretty sure most people are not judging. It’s all in my head and I don’t know why.

So we go again tomorrow. I want to do a strength session at the gym. I will take up space. I will do my thing. The numbers will be what the numbers will be. Maybe little by little my perspective will shift again. Trust the process, remember it’s for me, it’s about me and me needs to get out of my head.

Review: There is No Wall

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I logged off from work for the year on Friday, spent Saturday in the kitchen baking and cooking and cleaning which was a great brain re-set and then spent Sunday not doing much at all really. Kath was still working yesterday but we did the Christmas food shop early and then I curled up on the sofa to finally finish reading Allie Bailey’s There is no Wall. I started this a while ago after we listened to Allie talk at the Ilkley Literature Festival and then bought the book. Kath read it first and then I started it. Then I got busy at work again and as so often happens, just didn’t read for pleasure. I picked the book up again last night and went back a bit.

The book is phenomenal. It made me laugh, it made me cry quite a lot, it made me breathe deeply, be thankful for what I have and at the same time ask questions of myself that are not entirely comfortable. The book is and isn’t about running. It’s a lovely and at times brutally real antidote to the social media and new year new you nonsense. It’s about mental health, addiction, faking it, asking for help and accepting it and, to me anyway, it’s about finding your values and recognising them as fundamental to everything really. I love the honesty in the writing. I love that the swearing isn’t edited out, that the tone of the book isn’t polished into a beautiful narrative that sort of glosses over how dark Allie’s story really is. The writing is good, really good but it’s gritty and real.

I will need more time to really reflect on the book but there are a couple of things that really stand out to me

  1. The stories we tell ourselves. Allie notes that that the stories we believe are the ones we tell ourselves (or are told) most often but reminds us that we have a choice what thoughts and stories we believe. We have a choice. That’s really fucking powerful.
  2. External validation doesn’t get us very far. Our self-worth has to come from us, not from what we think others think of us
  3. Values are key to EVERYTHING
  4. There is a big knowing-doing gap. I had never thought about it as a knowing-doing gap before (I am probably late to the party here as always as apparently this is a pretty well known idea – it just wasn’t to me) but it is such an obvious way of describing it and applies to me all the time! As Allie notes, it’s really hard to bridge that gap and not just shout back as you fall further down the huge crevice the gap can create

I am feeling the knowing-doing gap particularly keenly at the moment. I know consistency is key to almost everything. I know good fuelling is key to being healthy, I know stretching and strength work are crucial to staying healthy, I know I need to focus on the stories I tell myself about running, I know I need to do the hard work and I know I need to start doing it now – with kindness and love, but now. Doing it is so much harder than knowing it though. And I think that is why I like the book so much. There is no pretence that any of this is easy. Getting your shit together is hard and it stays hard. You don’t just suddenly get your ducks in a row and then they stay there and you live happily ever after. Or maybe other people who have never experienced poor mental health do. No idea. I have been nowhere near as ill as Allie and I am grateful for that but I also expected running, at a very very different level of of course, to save me. And for a while it did. I got fitter, so much fitter. I could do things. I could view my body in terms of what it could do rather than what the number on my clothes label said and somehow that all helped.

But I haven’t really done the work on me, I know this. Because when the running fell to pieces because of Covid and busy-ness and toxic workplaces and all the shit that life can throw at you and personal bests and races well run or at least struggled through to claim mental victory were replaced by DNF or actually mostly DNS, running was (is?) just another problem. My body is now not delivering, I am not strong, I am not fit – so how should I see my body, myself, now? Allie is right, running won’t save you from whatever demons you have but I also think she is right that running can buy you time to save yourself. I think through most of my running I have been both running away from stuff and running towards who I want to be, the balance has just varied. And who I want to be is not far off who I am right now in this moment sitting here writing this. I am happy. I am relatively healthy. I look forward too much and could do with being more in the moment and I know a lot of stuff that I am doing fuck all about. But I am aware and I am taking tiny little baby steps to start building a bridge across the knowing-doing gap. Running helps me meet my black puppy with curiosity and kindness every time it appears, it helps me make better decisions day to day, it helps me accept things as they are so I can start from there, it helps me breathe deeply when I need to and it helps me be kinder, most of all to myself. Those are the things that save us – if we do the work.

Read the book. Even if you think you’re fine, even if you don’t run. Read it because it is just a bloody good book about a remarkable woman. And somehow it is a book of tremendous hope.

Meh, meh and meh again

Jess Guth1 Comment

Ah well that glorious few seconds at the end of the last run I wrote about was short lived. I’ve been out once sine then and it was fairly miserable. Although I was excited I’d got out at all. Then I got a little busy with stuff and with excuses so did sweet FA for the rest of the week. Yesterday was supposed to be ‘Dopey proof of time day’ but there was absolutely no way I was dragging my arse round the Manchester Half Marathon and Kath is still coming back from injury. So no proof of time for us so we will be starting our Dopey races at the back – hopefully not dead last though. It’s a bit meh to have not started yet another race. But we went to Manchester anyway and had a lovely Saturday, wandering round the city, watching the world go by, drinking mocktails and generally just being. It was lovely. Somehow though on Sunday I was exhausted. I slept for a chunk of the afternoon when we got back and I went to bed really early and slept for about 11 hours. I feel marginally better today. I am not really up for doing hard things though. Every excuse busting trick in the book isn’t really working. I am happy on the sofa and not at all interested in moving off it. Possibly a bit of depression, maybe just end-of-term fatigue. Who knows but it’s meh.

I need to something else. I am going to see if posting my plan for the week here helps me actually do it – I am not promising. You might just get a week of excuses but here goes:

Today I was going to run. I haven’t. I have done an upper body strength session and 5km on the bike (was meant to be 10k but my legs died – meh). I will do my Daily stretches and the foot injury prevention session 1 before bed

Tuesday: I am off work so no excuses! 45 minute run and I would like to re-start the Dynamic Runner strength programme. Daily stretches and Foot session.

Wednesday: Re-try the 10k bike, Daily stretches and foot session and the 2nd strength session

Thursday: Rest (I am away for work) so just daily stretches and foot session. If I want to do something because I am bored in the hotel, there’s a beginner barre that doesn’t need equipment or much room

Friday: Still away so a morning run from hotel – 45 minutes ish. Daily stretches and the last foot session

Saturday: 5 mile run, Strength Session 3 and Daily Stretches

Sunday: Bike, Daily stretches and Session 1 of another injury prevention programme – maybe the ankle strength one (7 days)

The Daily Stretches are always around 15-18 minutes and the foot programme is no more than 10 minutes each time. The strength sessions are 20-30minutes. And yes I know it is not the ideal plan with the strength sessions back to back etc but it’s where they fit in around being away. I’ll keep you posted!

Is it fun to do the impossible?

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Ah yes, running. It’s been crap. I am totally inconsistent, I have zero motivation, my lungs don’t feel right (Covid damage? Just totally unfit?), my back and hips are niggly, everything is tight, hay fever is a bitch and my head is not up for doing hard things at the moment. I want easy, comfort zone, not pushing anything anywhere. I am not currently convinced that it might be kind of fun to do the impossible. I’m really not.

BUT, I also really want to be able to do stuff. I miss my fitness, I miss running just being a thing that I do and not an endless drama and mind games to actually get myself out of the door. I want to do the Dopey Challenge in January, I want to do the Great North Run in September and all the milestones and adventures in-between and I want to do them with joy. I want to have fun. I don’t want it all to just be one big long miserable slog. So I need to get fitter. A lot fitter. Which means I have to go do the things that are impossible and hope that somewhere somehow the fun comes back and I re-discover the joy.

So today’s step 1 or the many many step 1s and re-starts and re-boots and whatever over the last few weeks and months: Get out and run. I had put off going for a run all week. One thing I am good at is excuses. I could give you a perfectly reasonable sounding one for each run I didn’t do. None of them are justifiable really. though. So anyway the plan today was for us each to go to our own thing before breakfast and by the time I properly woke up, Kath was already out on her loop and just about back home. We had a coffee together and Einstein cat came into bed so there’s 2 excuses to not go right there – first that we were going to have breakfast together and I had slept a lot later than Kath and she was already back and so she’d be hungry so I should just make breakfast and go later (going later basically never happens). Kath put that excuse to bed by declaring she was happy having granola and we could just do our own thing. Einstein is Kath’s cat through and through so I rarely get cuddles with him so I really didn’t want to disturb him cuddled right into me curled up under my legs. Again Kath pointed out that I could just go when he moved and it really didn’t matter – nowhere to be today.

So, vaguely plausible excuses put to bed, I got out of bed. I’d been thinking about where to go. I really struggle on any sort of up. It’s like the minute my lungs have to actually work they can’t. I get out of breath really quickly and sort of grind to a halt. Obviously therefore I avoid up. That’s not going to help. So I decided that I would start with up this morning and walk towards Keighley Gate. Added bonus here that setting off walking is less scary than setting of running. I couldn’t actually remember whether I am supposed to be on a 3 mile weekend or whether it’s a 5 mile weekend and honestly at this point I don’t care. The plan is gone. I just need to build some sort of consistency somehow. I thought 2 miles up and 2 miles down would be good.

I set off on a good march up the hill. After about 50 metres I was huffing and puffing and after a further 50 metres I thought maybe this was a really bad idea. Lungs were burning and I was huffing and puffing and really wanted to slow down. I slowed a little bit just to breathe but kept walking. I made it to be mile in about 19.5 minutes which actually in my history of walking that stretch really isn’t too bad.I was knackered though. Onwards. At 1.5 miles my back said Hi with a sharp pain across the bottom right. I might have yelped. My hip joined in. At 1.65 miles I thought it was all a bit silly and I should head back down before anything really hurts. I started jogging and it was ok. Pain wasn’t worse really but now I felt hot. I put 30 seconds walk breaks in every minute or 90 seconds. I was making a really conscious effort to make sure the run was positive overall. I was slightly irritated that I was using walk breaks on what is essentially a long downhill but it also felt like the right thing to do.

And then, for just a brief moment the magic returned. As I turned left onto our road, everything felt perfect. There was no pain, no niggle even, my form felt perfect, my glutes properly engaged, my speed picked up but felt almost effortless. For just a short 30 seconds ish at the end of my run everything came together, rhythm, cadence, breathing, form. It felt perfect. It is fun to do the impossible. There is joy in hard after all. Now how do I bottle that? How do I hang on to that when my body and mind are screaming at me that it’s all pointless and I can’t run anyway so why bother trying? I don’t know, but for now I’ll take it.

And, if I told you that Disney pace requirement is 16 minute mile, you will understand from the screen short below why today’s effort had an added bonus level of excitement:

Screenshot of Strava activity showing pace at 15.59

Festive Ultra Day 3 and some New Year New You reflections.

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I did not sleep well at all. I woke up not all that long after having fallen asleep to an absolute downpour outside, then I needed to pee, then at just after 3am Storm cat woke me purring and rubbing and being her best fluffy cuddly self (I assume she was hungry) and then, just after I dozed off again it was time to get up. I felt all achey and grumpy and sore. I dropped Kath off at the station and drove to the office. When I looked at my messages once I got there, Kath had had to walk home because there were no trains into Leeds due to flooding at Kirkstall. Well, at least she got a couple of miles on the board for us!

I have been overwhelmingly tired all day. I’ve tried to get on with stuff but I’ve just made mistakes and couldn’t quite get my brain to where it needed to be. Maybe because I am tired, or maybe because fitness (or the lack of it) is on my mind because of this festive ultra, I am seeing adverts for diets, exercise programmes and for ‘health’ apps everywhere. My timelines on social media are full of advice to help me ‘have [my] fittest year yet’, ‘finally lose that unwanted weight’, ‘get rid of hormonal weight gain fast’ or simply ‘have your best year ever’. There’s an awful lot of new year, new you stuff out there at the moment. That’s been whirling around in my head as we dragged our slightly tired, slightly grumpy backsides off the sofa and went for a walk to make up today’s distance.

So in the silences in between off-loading about work and putting the world to rights I was mulling the idea of ‘new year, new you’ and I can see the attraction of picking a point in time to start over, to do things differently. I am often guilty of picking an arbitrary date to change something – to start running again (in fact isn’t the festive ultra just that – an arbitrary thing to get me into a habit of exercising again?). The more I think about it, the more the idea reminds me of a coaster I have with the slogan in the picture. Tomorrow, next week, next year is attractive because it never has to come, we can always pretend we’re going to do things tomorrow. It can always be tomorrow (and tomorrow and tomorrow – hang on that’s a different story altogether). So the particular tomorrow of New Years is slightly different because we tell ourselves that on this given tomorrow, things will actually change. But here’s the thing, as the clock rolls over from the 31st December to the 1st January, you don’t suddenly change. You are still the same person with the same habits (good or bad), the same influences around you, the same pressures, the same hopes and dreams, the same biases, prejudices and ways of thinking and being. A clock, a calendar moving from one minute, year, to the next doesn’t change your lifetime of becoming you. It’s just another tomorrow.

I have, over the years, ranted about the new year, new you thing. Particularly in relation to health, fitness and exercise it does so much harm, causes so much unhappiness and costs a ton of money. I’m not going to repeat that rant. I’ve been reflecting on the mythical tomorrow of New Year and on making resolutions, on planning, on thinking about aspirations for the coming year and the extent to which we are conditioned to think that we somehow need to be better. I actually think that pressure is there in the media all year but it takes on a particular aggressive and persistent form as we count down to next year. A lot of the adverts seems to suggest that previously we’ve just been doing it wrong, buying the wrong products or following the wrong plan so surely in the New Year we’ll be smarter and finally do the right thing… or maybe this year we just haven’t been trying hard enough so surely in the New Year (tomorrow?) we will focus and finally commit and do what’s been determined to be right for us. I doubt any of that is true and all those of you who have been doing your best, who have been surviving and juggling and muddling through – I see you. I am you.

I am trying to be immune to that intense pressure but it doesn’t always work. Sometimes I think about how I must get my running back on track properly, how I need to implement x-y-z strategy or plan and just bloody well do better. But I am trying to be gentle and kind. On the 1st January 2024 I will, hopefully, still be just me. I will have had another birthday so my number will have rolled on by 1. I’ll still be fat and unfit (but maybe just a little less unfit than I am today), I’ll still be my reflective, slightly grumpy overthinking self. I’ll still suffer periods of depression and anxiety. I’ll still have an irrational and slightly over the top love of all things Disney and I’ll still think I can do anything when I am sitting on the sofa and don’t actually have to do it. Will I make any resolutions for 2024? Nope. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have hopes and dreams for the year. I’d love to run consistently, I’d love to continue the much healthier work life/ non work life balance that the last couple of months of 2023 have brought. I’d like to have time to think and read and dream. But resolutions won’t get me there. Resolutions are a sort of pressure. A requirement to be better, to do. Resolutions have to be measurable otherwise how do you know you’re being better? They involve comparing and numbers and tracking and measuring and and and… And I already have way too much measuring and metric-ing in my work life.

So there will be no aims or targets to lose weight, to run longer or faster, to be more successful or productive. There will be no requirement to ‘do’. There’ll be none of that, nothing measurable, nothing tangible. I just want to wake up on January 1st, linger, listen to purrs, drink coffee and anticipate the magic and wonder that 2024 holds. In the meantime – back to measuring. We are at 52km, just over 30% to target so we are still going strong – even if my feet say otherwise.