Tag: depression

Running with Kingfishers

Jess Guth3 Comments

Isn’t it funny how things get in your head. I don’t remember being particularly bothered by the man on a bike incident yesterday. It was irritating but I found it almost funny yesterday but it seems it got to me. It seems it got into my head and stole my running mojo, shattered my confidence and confirmed everything I should bloody well know by now: I can’t do this. I’m too fat to run. I’m unfit. I have no place parading my wobbly bits out in public. I should go back to the sofa with my packet of biscuits.

I woke up terrified of our long run. The last time I was this anxious about a run was, actually I’m not sure. Disney Paris half marathon maybe. I actually felt like I might be sick. It’s idiotic. It was a gorgeous morning, the planned route was flat and a point to point run. There was absolutely nothing to be scared of. It’s a little further than I have been recently but only by a mile and a bit. We had time, we planned to run/walk, there was no pressure…and yet I was terrified.

I had my slice of toast with peanut butter and a drink of water and then we drove out towards Skipton to drop our car off to be serviced. Once that was sorted we found a path onto the canal towpath and set off. We ran/walked the first two miles using 2 minute run/30 second walk intervals. Almost immediately we saw 2 gorgeous herons in a field IMG_6866on the other side of the canal. They were stunning and a few steps further on we found 2 heron feathers (now a little worse for wear after spending the next 2 hours in our pockets). In spite of the herons – our good run omen – I couldn’t settle. Both knees felt niggly, my feet felt like they were moving too much in my shoes, my left shin felt tender. The phrase ‘you’ll have to run faster than that’ kept popping into my head. I kept pushing it back. It changed to ‘I don’t know why you bother running at all’. I pushed it back. Then I got ‘come on, you’re part of an online running club for fat women – they can’t run and neither can you’. I got a bit cross at that because those women are bloody inspirational and amazing and brilliant runners. I pushed it back but my mind wasn’t having any of it. ‘You’re such a disappointment, look at you wheezing after less than 2 miles’. I wasn’t wheezing, well not until I thought that anyway. By mile 2 I was mentally exhausted and my tummy was gurgling ominously too.

I suggested that Kath ran on and I’d just walk. I felt awful for ruining her run and generally just pretty crap. I was losing the battle in my head and was beginning to firmly believe that running just isn’t for me, that I had no business being out there in my marathon T-shirt which I don’t deserve anyway because I walked most of it. Kath wouldn’t leave me. I was furious and relieved at the same time. I’d resigned myself to walking home sobbing my way through the remaining 6 miles and I really really didn’t want to ruin her run. We just kept walking. I thought about how disappointed all the lovely people in the Run1000miles Facebook group would be. They’d said such lovely things about my running and progress recently and now they’d realise that it was all just a fluke and that I’m just an imposter. Not really a runner, not even any good at pretending to be a runner. I wasn’t breathing.

As I walked and listened to nothing but my footsteps my breathing got easier and deeper and I realised I’d stopped thinking about anything. My mind was quieter. We’d been walking for most of mile 3. Kath was still there with me having refused to leave me behind. I wondered if she might help me run a little bit, just a little bit to see if I could do it mentally or whether everything would start screaming at me again. We walked past some dog walkers and then had a little jog to the next bridge. It felt ok. We crossed the road and then set off on another little jog and I felt ok. So we kept going, slowly and steadily. Then we saw the familiar yet often so elusive flash of blue – a kingfisher darted out of a tree and flew down the middle of the canal. It landed in a tree further ahead and then we saw a second one. They were catching up and leapfrogging each other, sometimes flying a little loop around each other, sometimes coming quite close, sometimes staying further apart. They both dived into the canal with hardly a splash and re-emerged looking magnificent. Eventually we lost sight of one of them but the other was still flying ahead, waiting for us, showing the way. I was still running.

Then there was a sudden unexpected movement just to my left, a thud and then a weird, and I mean really weird, noise as Kath tripped over something, hit the floor and somehow deflated. The noise and her staying down for an unusually long time really worried me but she was fine. In an effort to protect her garmin, she’d lifted her wrist up and got her elbow underneath her into her ribs, deflating and winding herself in the process. Like a true runner though she’d stopped the garmin before she even hit the deck. She’d been watching the kingfisher rather than where she was going. A little more carefully we kept following the kingfisher for a while longer before it flew a loop over the field opposite and headed back towards its mate which was now somewhere behind us. We’d been running with them for just over half a mile.

After having run a mile, I walked a bit to give my tummy chance to settle again – it was getting ‘unreliable’ with running. I was beginning to feel better. I was better at pushing the negatives back. I was making progress. I reminded myself that there was a time I couldn’t have run any of this. I took time to note that the slightly muddy and uneven terrain wasn’t bothering me whereas once it would have sent me into a meltdown. I noted that I was recovering from running segments much much much more quickly. I ran a bit of the 5th and 6th miles but we also took the opportunity to walk and chat about work we want doing on the house and holidays we’re planning (how to spend money basically). Then I ran the 7th mile and at about 7.5 miles Kath crossed the canal to head home and I carried on to go get milk. I didn’t run much after Kath left. It felt a bit lonely all of a sudden and I knew that my running form had gone. My hips were tight and the niggle in my shin I’d forgotten about was back.

Another blue flash, another kingfisher. I watched it fly down the middle of the canal until it went out of sight. It was stunning. I decided to run in short little bursts between landmarks and really concentrate on maintaining good running form for those short bursts. After the first two short bursts my phone rang. The garage  – they wanted to let me know that the car was done and they were on their way to drop it off – so the car got home before I did – luckily Kath got home before both of us. Once I’d stashed my phone again I had another short little burst and that’s how I made my way to the post office where I bought milk and some “Green Machine’ juice (apple, banana, kiwi, pineapple, spinach and some other green stuff) because I just really really wanted something other than the water in my little bottles which tasted like rubber left out in the sun for too long. Then I walked up the hill home.

I don’t know what to think about that outing. 9.1 miles, 2 hours 22 minutes. I am disappointed but I’m not quite sure with what. I’m ready for my rest day. I need it physically but maybe more importantly, I need it mentally. I have seen amazing things today. The herons at the start were just fantastic, they were walking in the field and some lambs were having  good look at them and then the herons flew off showing off their pretty spectacular wing span. There were swans and geese and ducks – all with young ones. Close to home there were cows with calves in a field on the opposite side of the canal and the calves ran along the canal bank with us for a bit. And we ran with kingfishers. Maybe it’s a good outing after all because running with kingfishers is pretty special – whatever else is going on.

Running Meltdown again

Jess Guth1 Comment

Two miles into my 10k run I was sat on my arse at the edge of the River Wharfe with tears running down my face trying to focus on a little chaffinch in the tree in front of me. Yep, running meltdown – again. I wasn’t even really aware I was struggling. We’d had a lovely first mile with a little stop to watch a deer for a few minutes and I felt fine really. My legs were a bit tight but really, nothing dramatic. We were running at the Bolton Abbey Estate and had just gone under the aqueduct when panic set in. I said that I thought I should go back, we walked a bit, then I stopped completely and then Kath sat me down. So there I was, not quite 2 miles in. FFS.

This mental wobble I can’t explain. I didn’t see it coming, I had been looking forward to being out, it was a gorgeous day and the sun on my face was lovely. But all of a sudden my black puppy pounced and got me. I couldn’t dodge her or outrun her. She just attached herself to me and growled. So I sat and looked at the chaffinch; a sweet little thing right at the end of the branch, silent mostly. At the time I thought it was a female but I’m not sure now. It might have been a male but I just couldn’t see the colours because I was looking into the sun. It was really more of a chaffinch silhouette. Slowly I began to realise that I had stopped panicking. Slowly I decided that I could probably manage to go on. So on we went. It was ok for a while, a short while and then doubts crept back in. The puppy was keeping pace but then we saw a heron and walked so we could see him better – he rotated slowly so he could keep an eye on us. Onwards. We stopped again at Barden bridge and watched some ducklings and some goslings – all neatly lined up in a row between the parents. Then we continued.

It was ok for a bit and then it was ok for a bit longer. We had a few little walks along the way but I tried to keep going. The puppy was somewhere but she was keeping her distance now and as we stopped to watch a pied flycatcher she disappeared completely. As we saw lots more birds I tried to remember that this is why I run out there. If we wanted to run fast, we’d go to a track Kath rightly pointed out. Running out there is not about pace or even really distance, it’s just about being out there. I mean really being there.

I agreed that we would stop at the Pavilion rather than go further and aim for the 10k. I knew that would be about 4.5 miles. I decided I wanted to do 5. I informed Kath of that as we came onto the flat out of the wood and ran alongside the Wharfe. We kept going along that path but soon turn round to head across the bridge to the Pavilion so that we didn’t have to run through a whole load of people. To get the distance we ran passed our car and along the car park. The puppy caught up. In my head she was running rings round me trying to trip me up shouting ‘hahaha you can’t do this’. My tummy gurgled dangerously but I focused on the image of the puppy and kept thinking ‘you’re wrong’. My legs felt heavy and my mind kept wanting to give in but eventually, after what seemed like forever, my watch beeped for the 5 miles.

I have felt focused and strong for the rest of the day and I have rattled through the first batch of marking really well. I left my puppy licking her wounds somewhere out there. She’ll be back I’m sure, but not today. Today I won!

Mind Over Matter

Jess Guth3 Comments

So I entered the London Marathon ballot and then headed for the trails. It was meant to be a repeat of the awesome 5.5 mile loop we did the other day and I was looking forward to it. We set off and it was ok and then it wasn’t. By the time we got 3/4 of the way across the golf course I was in meltdown. We sat for 10 minutes, I had a little cry and then continued. I made it down the hill and across the fields but a little way along the canal I lost it again and gave up. We walked home. I’d sort of run/waddled about 3 miles by then and my tummy was bubbling and my calf muscles were tight but to be honest that wasn’t the problem. The problem was in my head, all in my head. Now that I am back I feel so disappointed and cross with myself but that’s the running game I guess. I’ll just keep playing.

Later

I sat on the sofa a bit grumpy for a while, had some brunch and then wondered whether it was sensible to have another go. I felt physically fine. My legs felt ok, my ankle was a little tired – I think that’s the best way to describe it – but otherwise it was all good. I asked Kath what she thought. She didn’t want to go again because her ankle was a bit niggly so if I was was going to do this it would have to be on my own. I hate being defeated by anything depression or anxiety related so I felt like I needed to have another go and leave the head gremlins out there somewhere.

I set off having agreed that I would see how I felt once I got to the turn off for the trail and text Kath and let her know if I was doing the shorter sheep loop or the longer trail. I felt pretty good so went up. I walked the steepest bits and then headed across the golf course. Slowly but surely I made progress. I ran it all and still felt pretty good when I got to the other side. I plodded up the slope to the gate, once through I walked up across the field to the wall, climbed over and then jogged down the trail through the wood. I still very much dislike downhill and this is pretty steep. I was going very slow I think but I kept moving all the way which was my aim. Here are some images from the wood section – doesn’t look that steep. Hm.

 

IMG_4965
Looking back across the fields I’d just run

Once at the bottom I made my way across three fields, running (well plodding) it all and just stopping to open and close the gates. There’s nothing like  field full of geese to make you go a bit faster – luckily they just stared but stayed where they were. I got onto the track and made it onto the canal. In terms of actual running I was now on the easy bit – pretty well maintained, flat canal towpath. Yay. I was beginning to get a little tired which isn’t really that surprising given that I was on a total of about 8miles for the day at this point. Still I was plodding

IMG_4967
Track after the fields just before left turn to canal

quite nicely putting in a 15 second walk here and there. Then I saw people ahead, a big group of people and my heart sank. I’d been doing well mentally since about half way across the golf course where I’d decided I was doing this and had counted my way out of a rough patch. I did not want people. Why the hell were there people going for a walk. Outrageous! I put in a short walk break, took some deep breaths and started running again. I said a few ‘excuse mes’ and ‘thank yous’ and weaved my way through the group and kept going. Anxiety levels were sky high but nobody said anything. Nobody laughed. I kept going.

As I was approaching the golf course bridge, I thought I might cross there and walk up the golf course and go back that way because it was likely to be quieter and there were more people walking along the canal, there were also a fair few canal boats. However, as I got to the bridge it was open for a boat to go through and I didn’t want to stop. So canal towpath it was. Onwards. It was definitely getting harder now but I still kept to just a few short walk breaks and focused on landmarks to run to – a tree here, a wall there, IMG_4973then I concentrated and catching up with and going past a canal boat, then the bench in the distance. As I was heading for the bench there was an alarming gurgle in my tummy, then another and another. I made it to the bench, stopped my watch, stopped, closed my
eyes and squeezed my butt… Either this was going to induce disaster or avert it. I wasn’t entirely sure but whatever was going to happen was going to happen. I opened one eye, then the other and breathed a sigh of relief. Crisis averted. I decided to have a little break before tackling the last mile.

I sat on the bench for a few minutes, let the canal boat I’d over taken earlier catch up and then raced it to the bridge (I lost on purpose so I could have another little break waiting for them to open the bridge to go through and close it again so I could cross). Then I marched up the hill stopping briefly to reply to the last in a series of lovely and encouraging texts from Kath, jogged down the slope and came up Ilkley Road run/walking post to post. I had a quick chat with one of our neighbours and ran the last few metres to our drive. Phew. So that was tough. I was definitely getting tired by the end and my tummy was a little dodgy BUT I left the gremlins out there on the golf course somewhere and I did it on my terms. I needed that run.

I suspect I might feel this tomorrow. I’m heading for a bath shortly. I’ve had some food and put my compression socks on for a bit. I’ll do some more stretches before bed too. I’m glad I did the 10.6 miles today but I really am looking forward to not running tomorrow.

 

 

8 Year Old Me

Jess Guth1 Comment

I felt pretty good after running 8 miles yesterday. My legs were perhaps a little tired but nothing major. I therefore thought a slow recovery jog on the flat would be nice. I hit the afternoon slump about 3pm ish so that seemed like a good time to go.

We ran down to the canal and to the stone bridge and then back to the bridge and walked up the hill home. The run was 3.72 miles and it was 12.10 minutes per mile pace.

All good then

No, not really. That was mentally horrible. As soon as we got onto the canal my little black puppy got hold of me good and proper and kept telling me how crap I was at this and that I’d always been crap. Then somehow it unearthed a memory I didn’t even know I had. I was taken back to being about 8 years old ( I think, I’m note entirely sure I was 8 but in my memory that feels about right) and having, for the second time in my life, been asked to and not managed to run 800 metres in a PE lesson. That in itself wasn’t too bad. I don’t remember being that bothered. I was good at other things but then my PE teacher made a big deal out of it, telling the whole year group that once again I had failed to run 800 metres and that it really would be something special if I ever managed it – not that she gave me any tools to try and learn to run 800 metres. I never tried again, not while I was at school anyway.

That memory was most unhelpful. I spiralled further. Every step was an effort. It felt like I had to drag my feet out of setting concrete. At one point I asked for a walk break and then changed my mind. We were running into a headwind and I was struggling to breathe but actually physically I was going ok. The stone bridge finally came although I’m sure the universe kept moving it further back. We turned round and for a few seconds it felt better. I felt like maybe I was outrunning the puppy… But then it renewed its efforts. I knew I was running well physically but my mind shut me down. I couldn’t put one foot in front of the other any longer. I walked. I got cross. I got upset. I started running again. I found a rhythm  somehow and just kept moving. Slowly, slowly that memory of 8 year old me turned into something else. You see, I can run 800 metres now. I probably could at the time but nobody actually explained to me how. I made it to a point that I happen to know is 800 metres from where we were going to finish (from previous 800 metre repeats) and I ran the last 800 metres for 8 year old me. I ran them fast and I ran them strong and inside there was a little 8 year old fist pumping and jumping up and down with excitement – even as I pretty much collapsed on the bridge trying to suck in the oxygen.

And I ran again

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Yep, 3rd day in a row. It’s been a funny old day. I got up feeling positive and quite energetic but my legs were really tight. I’m sure my hamstrings were 2 inches shorter than they were yesterday. We had cereal and fruit for breakfast and did some planning for our Disney trip in September and a bit of tidying up and pottering about. Then we went for Sunday lunch at Kath’s mum’s. We talked about Disney plans some more and made some reservations etc. Then we checked on the sheep (all fine) and then came home. Once home I felt a bit flat. I didn’t quite know what to do with myself. There was some work stuff that needs doing but I’m trying really hard to not let work interfere with weekends. We’ve seen what comes of that and it’s not pretty.

So I had a bit of a battle with myself. I was on the sofa. Getting off the sofa is really hard. I’d been on it for a while faffing on the computer, half heartedly looking at some work stuff, planning tomorrow’s work day. But I felt a bit lost. I was thinking about all sorts of stuff but in particular of a friend who currently has her son in hospital fighting anorexia. It’s not my story to tell, so I won’t say any more but I suddenly thought that if an 11 year old can somehow find the strength to battle his deamons in the way this kid is then I can ask for help to get off this damn sofa and go and run. I asked Kath if she’d take me. She’d already been once this morning and I wasn’t sure she wanted to go again or indeed whether I could run after a full Sunday dinner complete with chocolate pudding and vanilla ice cream. She agreed.

We got changed and did some yoga to try and get my legs loosened a bit and then we set off on a slow plod. We used intervals all the way and actually it was ok. It was a little slower than the same route yesterday but also more consistent and I got a little further up the hills. In all honesty, a Sunday dinner is not good running fuel – at least not if you have pudding. I felt like I was seconds away from a stitch from hell all the way round and at times I felt more than a little sick but complaining wasn’t an option. Today running wasn’t about me. It was about a kid in a hospital bed fighting like hell. Of course me running doesn’t make any difference to him, it’s somewhat of a hollow gesture and part of me can’t help feeling that it’s all a bit selfish on my part. After all him being there made me get my butt out the door. Thinking about him made me not quit on the hills but that’s not about him, that’s about me. It changed my perspective and made me shout at myself. I can hear myself now: ‘Just suck it up sunshine, you’ve nothing to complain about’.

So somehow my 3.1 miles seem so pathetic in the face of other people’s battles but my friend, her son and their family are in my thoughts and I’m sending strength and maybe me (and many others in our little running family) putting one foot in front of the other with him in mind is a show of support and solidarity from which they can draw some comfort and hope.