Tag: depression

Running to feel better – no really.

Jess Guth1 Comment

I seem to have managed to keep the worst of my depression at bay. Let’s keep the black dog metaphor going – I have shut that stupid black mutt out but it is still hanging around outside. For only the second time in my academic career (which now spans well over 10 years) I have withdrawn from a conference. I was due to fly out to Sweden tomorrow but I just couldn’t get my head round flying out there on my own, I couldn’t get my head round exploring somewhere I’d never been before and I couldn’t get me head round giving two papers and putting my research out there for comment. I’ve cancelled. I shall miss seeing some great colleagues and friends but I need to look after myself.

Running and yoga seem to be becoming a part of that. I went to work today and mostly it was ok. I had my little panic this morning but mostly I just got on with things once I got to work. It was just much more of an effort that usual. I had to force the focus that usually comes naturally. I was tired on the way home, really tired. I wanted to get home and run though. Well no, that’s not quite true. I wanted to have that post-run feeling. The only way to get that is to run. 30 minutes along the canal in 2 min run/30 secs walk intervals was what we had planned. I felt reasonably happy about that having managed nearly 6 miles on Sunday using that same ratio. I pushed. Maybe for the first time since we started the running I consciously pushed the pace a little. Usually I just try keep going. I let Kath worry about pace and just follow her lead and she keeps an eye on how I’m doing and speeds up (oh come on, who are we kidding – slows down) accordingly. But today I pushed and I kept pushing all the way to the end. Pace: 12 minutes per mile exactly. Distance: 2.5 miles. Well that silly fat black labrador that seems to be the symbol for depression  in my mind can’t take that pace. I’d left that behind after the second run section. The problem is, it finds its way back ‘home’ and just hangs around waiting for me to unwittingly leave the door open.

The yoga is useful too. It’s helping and I’m getting better at it. I’ll write about that in more detail another time though.

Sunday weigh-in, 5.75 miles and running faster than your ‘black dog’

Jess Guth3 Comments

I woke up this morning with a feeling I haven’t had for years. That feeling of teetering on the edge of depression, of my mental health not being where it should be; the wanting to stay in bed and hide, the barely being able to get up. My black dog was pushing at the door (for some reason I picture my symbolic black dog as a fat black labrador). But there was good news that was worth getting up for – our friends’ baby was born over night and all are doing well. So now I was up, I might as well stay up. I remembered it was Sunday and got an the scales. +1.5 pounds. Hmph (though fully deserved and expected). The plan was to move to the next longer run on the programme, skipping some of the 30 minute ones and moving through to the longer runs more quickly. I had a banana and then we did 15 minutes of yoga.

We set off for our run, heading along the canal towards Bingley for a change. Run/walk ratio continues to be 2mins/30 secs. The first two runs were awful. I couldn’t breathe, my legs felt like led, everything felt like an effort and, if I’m honest, I just didn’t want to do it. It’s hard to describe the battle that went on in my head. Not only did I have the usual ‘ you’re not a runner’, ‘what do you think you’re doing’ and ‘really, you want to run do you?’ going on, I also had a more general crisis. I had a really dark cloud hanging over me which made everything so hard. – the black labrador hanging on to the back of my top and pulling me back. But that wasn’t everything, I also had a tiny little voice, a very quiet voice initially that was trying to be determined not to be ill, not to give in, not to allow the black dog into the room. That voice got louder as we kept going. I had a major wobble just before 2.5 miles where I informed Kath that I couldn’t do ‘it’. I have no idea what ‘it’ was but I was sure that I couldn’t do it. She took no notice of me and just told me that I could and kept going. As she is right about most things I just had to believe her and keep going with her.

The running was hard, I was grateful for every walk break but as I kept going the little determined voice got louder and as we passed 5 miles it got a little bit giddy and almost shouted ‘you can do this’. There was no reply. There was no response saying ‘don’t be stupid’, there was silence. A silence I’m not used to when running. Is this the empty mind, clearing head kind of silence that real runners talk about?  I enjoyed the last half a mile. I actually enjoyed it. I felt like giggling (except I didn’t have enough breath for that), I’d just pictured a big black dog as the symbol of depression running along behind us on the canal desperately trying to keep up with us, tongue hanging out, panting, getting slower and slower and eventually, probably around 4 miles giving up. I win. I ran 5.75 miles today. I woke up not well but I came back from running feeling confident that I will go to bed much better.

So 5.75 miles. Pace of 13.15 minutes per mile. An hour 16 minutes and 10 seconds. However slow that might seem to you, as long as I’m outrunning my black dog it’s fast enough for me. Oh and when I got back on the scales after the run I’d actually lost half a pound since last week. I haven’t changed the weight in the log because that felt like cheating but it felt good.