Blue skies, finally

Today was the first continuously sunny day in more than a week. After being scoured by so much rain, sleet, and more rain, the sky was a brilliant, crisp blue. I decided to be a bad graduate student and skip school (and traffic). (In my defense, I've put in a lot of work this week, gone in early and stayed late, and submitted abstracts and manuscript drafts, so I decided playing hooky was okay.) On my day off, I...

...went to an Xtend Barre class at the decadently late hour of 9 a.m.

...decided to enjoy the sun by going to the park and jogging. I'm not sure where I mustered up the energy, but I managed to run four miles with negative splits, with my slowest mile being 9:28 and my fastest being 9:05. Those are good times for me, especially considering that I never felt like I was going all out.

Evidence of a gorgeous day.

...went on a coffee/hummus date with my husband at a new cafe in town:

The coffee was Panama something-or-other,

and it was amazing.

...borrowed some books from the library, including the new biography of David Foster Wallace.

...did some laundry.

...did not clean my house.

Re: that last one. It's funny how memories that once seemed insignificant - like, why have I remembered it all these years? What was the purpose in hanging onto it? - sometimes take on greater meaning. One such memory is of going to my first best friend's house to play. The place was always a complete disaster area: toys everywhere, sticky countertops, pet fur covering the couches, dust all over the floor. Even as a six-year-old, I noticed the disarray. But it was always so much fun. We let our imaginations run wild building stuff, coloring, moving toys from one room to another, going from inside to outside to inside to outside. Unlike my other friends' moms, she wasn't one to chase after us with broom, dustpan, vacuum cleaner, and annoyed tone. Instead, she was usually reading or writing or cooking or doing something for herself. She seemed to have her own life. I remember feeling really free and relaxed there, knowing that as long as we didn't fight or say/do anything inappropriate, no-one was going to yell at us.

Even with just one kid, it's hard to keep our place clean, and I try far less to do so than I used to. There are legos under pretty much every piece of furniture and Kindergarten artwork on almost every wall. Our ottoman is falling apart, and our couch has a three-inch gash in the cushion. My son's room looks - to me - like a mess, though he assures me that it is actually a house with its own kitchen, bedroom, and art center.

It's not a total pit. It's not dirty. It's just messy and lived-in. Well loved, well used. Nothing like a Pottery Barn ad. I could clean for 18 hours a day and my son could still undo it in a matter of minutes. 

Sometimes I wish it were cleaner (I'm type A: messes of any kind make me at least a little anxious) but then I remember my friends' house and I feel better. That feeling I had when I was there is the feeling I want him to have at home. Freedom to just be a kid and not worry about how an emptied toy box might affect the adult's psyche.

Resolutions for the new year, and a treadmill workout

Happy 2013! Our New Year's celebration was quiet. We got the little man down to bed at a decent time and then we watched a documentary on Netflix called Deep Water. It's about a weekend sailor who decided to compete in a first-of-its-kind round-the-world sailing competition in the late 1960s. The ending was totally not what I expected; I couldn't believe I'd never heard of this guy before now.

We made it to midnight, but barely. Apparently we were not alone. As I checked Facebook, I saw a lot of "It's only 9 p.m. but I can't stay up any longer and by the way I'm officially old"-type posts. 

Resolutions: Do you have any? Or anything you want to do/change in 2013? My only resolution at this point is to keep up the activities and habits I took up in the last part of 2012:

• Continue going to Xtend Barre classes 4 times a week (I continue to love, love, love this class... Who knew I'd grow so fond of ballet and Pilates?)
• Find my next race. 5K? Half marathon? Trail run? Not sure yet, but I'm hoping that I'll decide on something close to home, and relatively soon.
• Finish up my 30-day vegan challenge! I'm on Day 16 (I think), and so far, so good. My only slip-up was when I ordered a salad at Panera and discovered too late that it had feta cheese on it. My least favorite cheese! Argh. I hate wasting food so I ate it anyway. More on the Vegan Challenge in the next few days.
• And lose a few pounds. I guess that one's new, but I don't want to get too caught up in thinking about it. I'm using the Lose It! app on my iPhone to track my calories and workouts. More on that in the coming weeks, too.

*  *  *

I'm one of those runners who is not too keen on running in supercold weather (and by "supercold," I mean anything less than 30 degrees F - since moving to the South, I've become a winter wimp). I ran on my treadmill instead and made up my own interval workout as I went along. I was pretty happy with it. There was enough variation to keep me from getting too bored. This would be easy to modify based on your own moderate baseline pace:

Easy Does It 60 Minute Workout:

* 5 minutes walking (moderate effort)

* 5 minutes 5.5 mph, 2 minutes walking

* 5 minutes 5.6 mph, 2 minutes walking

*5 minutes 5.7 mph, 2 minutes walking

* 5 minutes 5.8 mph, 2 minutes walking

* 5 minutes 5.9 mph, 2 minutes walking

* 5 minutes 6.0 mph, 2 minutes walking

* 1.5 minutes each of 6.0 down to 5.5 mph (9 minutes total)

* 4 minutes walking

One of the best decisions I made in 2012: antidepressants

I wish that eating well, running, and staying busy were enough to keep depression and anxiety at bay for me, but they aren't. Those are all things I've been doing for years, and still - for years - I had this constant, nagging feeling of Something is wrong with me. I planned my own funeral for fun. I wrote depressing entries in my diary. I made friends and lost them, over and over again. Something is wrong with me. I got angry and threw things. I cried while lying on the floor of the bathroom, light off, door locked. I quit things, changed jobs, viewed moving once every year or two as a perfectly logical approach to dealing with social discomfort. Something is wrong with me.

And yet throughout that time, I looked totally functional to most people. I went to school or work. I excelled in classes and in my jobs. I smiled, bantered, was personable. I maintained my relationship with my husband. I had a kid.

Few people outside my immediate family knew how much I was struggling. I didn't know how much I was struggling. Periodic bouts of exhaustion, near-constant irritability, and daily anxiety attacks were, from my perspective, just part of the fabric of my personality. And to a certain degree, one gets used to feeling bad when one has felt that way since her early teens. I had enough coping strategies in place (like working really hard, eating well, running, sleeping, zoning out, distancing myself from others if I might go all Jekyll-and-Hyde on them, etc.) that I got by, for the most part. As the years went on I also became adept at hiding what was really going on.

That's a common theme in mental health: hiding. Which is partly why so many of us who struggle with difficult mental experiences feel so isolated and alone. We don't want to embarrass ourselves, so we compensate by striving to look normal (or better yet, GREAT!); when we do furtively glance over the wall to see if there's anyone else out there, the place looks empty. In reality the mental health landscape is full of people struggling with similar things, all hiding from one another, afraid (often understandably so) to stand up and put it all out there. I think that's slowly changing. Finally.

I started therapy long before I started taking an antidepressant, a strategy that now seems somewhat backwards. Don't get me wrong: therapy has been invaluable in that it's offered a place where I can dig through my life and identify where, how, and why ineffective habits developed. It's given me tools: I've learned how to set boundaries, be nice to myself, combat negative thoughts, handle conflict, and be more assertive. I needed the therapy; it was one of the best decisions I have ever made. The problem was, implementing these strategies while dealing with full-on depression and anxiety was like trying to build a life raft while in the active process of drowning. 

Only after I got in touch with a psychiatrist, received a diagnosis (major depression and PTSD), and started on Zoloft (a relatively reliable, long-studied antidepressant used specifically to treat PTSD, among other conditions) did I realize just how long I'd been on the verge of being pulled under permanently. I'd gotten so used to treading water that I didn't know life's not supposed to be a constant day-to-day, year-to-year struggle. I did recognize that the bad times were growing progressively worse. By last January I was having the conversation with my therapist of, "I won't end my life. But I think about it. But I won't do it. But sometimes I want to just not exist," and him saying, "What you're holding onto is an emergency exit option. As long as that door is open, even just a little, you are in danger."

It's hard to describe how different my life is now that I am taking that little white pill every morning. Maybe it looks the same from the outside. I'm still doing what I've always done: working hard, running, putting time and effort into my relationships, challenging myself. But from the inside, it's like Extreme Makeover: Headspace Edition. My anxiety is still there, but I'm mostly able to manage it. I still get depressed, but I recognize the warning signs and know to take action before things get really bad. And all the techniques from therapy? Now I can actually put them into practice on a consistent basis. (Turns out, positive self-talk really works, if you can make yourself do it!)

Sometimes it's hard to remember what it used to be like. I do find myself wondering why I couldn't pull it together, why I made things so hard for myself. But then I'll read an old journal entry or think back to one of my earlier sessions in therapy, and I'll remember that I didn't do this to myself, that I was working as hard as I possibly could to fix my brain. I couldn't save myself no matter how much CBT, EMDR, or western meditation I did. A person with two broken arms might know everything about what it takes to construct a house; she might have all the tools, all the blueprints. But unless her broken arms are set and have a chance to heal, there's no way she's going to be able to actively use her arms to build it.

That's what medicine has done for me: it's put me in a place where my brain can rest long enough to (hopefully) get better. Sometimes I do wonder whether I will ever be able to stop taking Zoloft. Part of me believes it's just a temporary support beam, and that if I can just use this time to reconstruct and galvanize my way of thinking, I'll eventually be able to remove that support. Another part of me worries that if I ever stop, the whole thing will collapse. At any rate, I'm not ready to quit medication just yet. It's working for me; if it's working, why stop? The statistics also give me pause. Depression is one of those things where if you experience it a couple of times, you're likely to experience it again in the future, and it might be worse the next time.

Of course, every person's experiences are unique, and that's certainly true when it comes to antidepressants. I've read that for some people, they don't work; some people have side effects that negate the positive outcomes; other people do well on them for awhile, and then the medication loses its effectiveness. For all I know, Zoloft might lose its oomph for me, too. But for now, I'm just grateful that it's working. It's one of the best - perhaps the best - decision I made this year.

A Most Fantastic Present: The RunnerBox

I love giving gifts but I generally suck at picking them out. This is especially true when it comes to my husband, my parents, and my brother's family. I consistently end up finding stuff that *I* want, but for everyone else, it's a crapshoot. And although I'm loath to give gift cards, sometimes that's the best I can do.

My husband is one of those people who's hard to buy for because he doesn't want a lot of stuff. That's something I love about him, but it makes gifty holidays a little challenging. Things I do not buy for him:

• Clothing. No t-shirts, no sweaters, definitely no pants or shoes. I did manage to get him a running jacket he liked last year, but I was very careful to include the gift receipt and was pleasantly surprised when he did not use it.
• Power tools. I'm much more likely to wield a drill or a hammer than he is.
• Books. 
• Anything even remotely related to man-scaping.

Things I know he likes:

• Peet's Coffee. But at $14+ per pound, I'm hesitant to splurge for it.
• Gift certificates to running stores and Hammer Nutrition. Useful, but not very creative.
• Apple products. Too expensive. 

I was at a loss this year until I read a review of The RunnerBox at Yo Momma Runs. The RunnerBox is a subscription that entitles the recipient to a box of running-related goodies every other month. I  knew immediately that my running-addicted husband would love it. Staci of the RunnerBox team mailed the first shipment the day after I placed the order. When I had an issue with PayPal, Staci also got to work on the problem, resolved it within hours, and kept me posted. I had the gift in hand by Christmas Eve; I didn't have to do much in the way of wrapping it because it came with a gift card, a ribbon, and a little gift-topper. I definitely got the sense that these folks care about the quality of the product and customer service.

RunnerBox pics (Yo Momma Runs has more detailed ones):

The box came with lots of goodies, including tea, a reflector, gum, gels, protein powders, and other stuff that my husband is excited to try out:

I plan to steal some of these from him:

I've already stolen this:

This would be perfect for anyone who enjoys running, and particularly for someone who's new to running or training for a race. What great motivation! Plus, who doesn't love the anticipation of waiting for a present in the mail? :-)

Home Again; Vegan Challenge, Days 1 and 2

I'm home, I'm home! I'm so happy to be home. This trip to California felt really long, even though it was similar in length to other trips I've taken. While I did appreciate the opportunity to gather some much-needed data for my dissertation research, and while I definitely appreciated the opportunity to hang out in such a lovely place, it seemed like I was gone for a month, not 12 days.

Overall, it was a good trip. I never felt overly lonely, and I was able to go out, run, and enjoy the fresh air quite often. I also indulged in activities that are more difficult when I'm home with an active five-year-old - namely, eating dinner in bed while watching Sister Wives and Catfish uninterrupted. There's something to be said for that.

But I missed my little man, and my husband, and now that I'm back, our holiday can actually start. 

*  *  *

I'm on Day 3 of the 30 Day Vegan Challenge. So far, so good. Days 1 and 2 involved some creative meal planning using food from the motel's free breakfast (coffee, juice, cereal, granola bars), quick-cook meals from Trader Joe's, and a pomelo that took me approximately 24 minutes to peel (I was feeling ambitious and adventurous with that one; in the end, it tasted okay).

Something I've learned so far: I do not like soy yogurt. At all. Too gluey, and it tastes like... pasty beans. Not my thing. But this heat-and-serve rice noodle soup with edamame crackers was easy and yummy.

The highlight of Day 2 was a stop at the Mariposa Baking Company in San Francisco's Ferry Building. MBC makes entirely gluten-free breads and goodies. It was on the way to the airport, so I got off the BART at Embarcadero, indulged, and then headed to SFO with a full, happy belly.

Drool, drool, drool:

Everything was gluten free, of course, but a lot of it was also vegan. For lunch, I ordered the vegan empanadas with a side salad (complete with GF croutons):

PERFECTION. The curry filling consisted of potatoes, tomatoes, and Indian spices:

And... I also splurged on a carton of Penguinos, which are akin to (and probably inspired by) the cream-filled Hostess chocolate cupcakes - but even more moist and delicious. 

*  *  *

Plans for the day include:

-Continuing to lay around in my pajamas

-Going downtown to select our yearly family ornaments (we pick a couple nice ones for Christmas every year)

-Doing laundry. Maybe.

-Resting my knee, which was SUPER sore on the plane yesterday. It felt fine when I did my pre-flight run in Berkeley in the morning, but by the third leg of the flight, it ached a lot.

Things I love about running: continuity

One thing I love about running is that it keeps me centered when I travel. Running gives me a sense of continuity when everything else - the climate, the food, the atmosphere, the people I'm around - is different from what I experience in my everyday life.  

I've been traveling a lot lately: several days per month on average. The trips are necessary and beneficial from a professional point of view, but they can be difficult because sometimes being away from home makes me feel like I'm losing my connection to myself. My brain starts getting kind of fragmented. The worst case of that occurred during a work trip last June; when I came home, I felt so depressed and out of it that I spent a week in bed. I don't want that to happen again.

Running helps. Wherever I am, I can put on my Asics, head out the door, and physically/mentally feel just as I do when I run at home or anywhere else. I am so grateful for that. I do not know what I'd do on these trips if I weren't a runner.

Here in Berkeley, I ran 6 miles yesterday and 7 miles today. I loved how the damp, drizzly air felt as I breathed it in, and how the bay looked from the hills above the university. I loved how the leaves on some of the maple trees are still a brilliant red. I loved seeing so many people out walking, biking, and running on a weekend morning. Running has been one of my favorite things to do here and a great way to see the city.

 Berkeley Hills

I love the neighborhoods here. I love how the houses are all so unique and how the trees are so grown.

By the numbers

2: number of scoops of ice cream I ate last night (coffee + effervescent cherry sorbet)

4: number of additional ice cream samples the lady behind the counter "made" me try (dark chocolate peppermint, sweet potato and marshmallow, bourbon maple, and something with beer). I roughed it out and licked those sample spoons clean.

9: miles ran/jogged this weekend

3: fitness class torture-fests I took part in last week

1: completed application submitted

1.5: glasses of wine consumed today

5: clementine oranges going in my lunch bag for tomorrow

3: average number of times I run the dryer before my husband gets annoyed and folds the clothes himself

1: free cup of coffee I'm getting tomorrow by bringing in my empty coffee bag

4: days until my next trip

12: days I'm going to be away from home (booooo)

1: cheap snow globe that was dropped and shattered over the weekend

1000000: bits of smashed snow globe glass

7: gluten-free pancakes eaten by five-year-old this morning

Best news of the week so far

Not related to the best news of the week so far, BUT: I'm feeling better about the marathon. First of all, I FINISHED A MARATHON. So right there I should feel pretty good. Moreover, I felt great for most of it and my pace - for most of it - was consistent. Also, the Space Coast Marathon has fabulous medals.

This is not to say that I am totally pleased with how everything went, but at least now I'm not borderline despondent. I'm already thinking about the next marathon and what I can do to avoid the mistakes I made this time around.

The plan from here:

• Lots of Xtend Barre for the next couple of weeks. I went to a class tonight and was surprised that I could still plie, given how sore my quads have been (yesterday I could barely walk on anything but a flat surface; I nearly took a header stepping off a curb)
• Run tomorrow and/or Friday - short runs of ~3-4 miles
• Sunday: Longer run of 6ish miles
• Next week: start ramping into post-marathon training
• End of December/beginning of January: start training for next marathon (likely one at the end of March)

Does anyone know of a good training plan for after a marathon? I want to give myself time to recover from the 26.2, but I also want to maintain my fitness level. In particular, I want to be able to continue doing long runs that are between 10 and 16 miles.

*  *  *  *

Best news of the week so far: I found out that my town offers a shuttle to and from the city. I tried it out yesterday, and it felt like heaven! Comfy seats on a tour-type bus, CNN on the bus televisions, electrical outlets for plugging in my computer, and the best thing: I didn't have to deal with the traffic. I just sat there in my plush chair, drank my coffee, and started a report I've been meaning to get to. The ride back in the evening was much the same.

Commuting has been an enormous stressor for me. Traffic around here is truly awful. I've lived in the Bay area, which is notorious for its traffic, but I honestly think it's worse here. At least twice a week I end up stuck behind an accident, usually involving one person rear-ending another right in the middle of the highway. Even without accidents, there's the normal rush hour slowdown and the folks who insist on going 20 miles under the speed limit in the middle lanes. Aside from the focus, grit, and patience it takes to deal with driving, the other thing that wears me out about commuting is that it is a daily two-hour time sink. I try to use the drive as a time to plan out my day and listen to music, but there are so many other things I'd rather be doing with those hours. At least on the bus, I'd have time to get a few things done, read some books, catch up with the news...

The price of the commuter bus is a little steep at $4 one way. I think the way to really take advantage of this would be to buy a ticket packet, which is offered at a discount, and ride the shuttle on a regular basis. In the long term, I'm pretty sure we'd save money on gas, car repairs, and parking. 

Marathon: I'm going to need time to work through it

The Space Coast Marathon was yesterday. We finished in 4:42 and some change. The first 21 miles went really well; we ran between a 10 and 10:30 pace, hydrated properly, ate a few gels, and cheered on the faster runners who had already looped back around (it is an out-and-back course). RF and I wore matching shirts and shorts, and everyone kept calling us "the twins," which was kind of fun/funny - especially since I am about 30 pounds heavier than she is, and 7 years older.

Between miles 21 and 22, I hit the wall. It happened so quickly and suddenly that I truly did not see it coming. One second I felt fine. The next, it was all I could do to keep putting one foot in front of the other. My legs felt like concrete and my brain shut down. I did not want people to cheer me on. I did not want RF's encouragement. I wanted to be invisible so that I could fight my way through the last few miles entirely on my own. At one point a well-meaning spectator yelled at us to go faster and it was all I could do not to turn and scream "FUCK YOU" while flipping her off.

A weird thing happened with RF around mile 23 or 24. She was clearly feeling totally fine, and her chipper comments to me and to the other runners were wearing on me. I knew I was holding her back and I felt horribly horribly guilty about it. So in addition to the mental challenge of simply continuing, there was also this overpowering sense that I was failing her. I asked her to please run on ahead, and I meant it. It would have made me feel better - less guilty and more focused. In no way was I testing her loyalty. She refused. A few minutes later I asked her again, and she turned and snapped at me, saying that I was trying to make her feel bad.

At that point it was all I could do not to cry. I also hyperventilated a few times - literally could not breathe, and had to pull to the side and put my head between my knees.

In the end, the physical pain was manageable, but the mental/emotional confusion was nearly intolerable. Truth is, I cried at the finish line, cried in the shower, took a break from crying to eat lunch, and then cried for two straight hours in the car. And it wasn't crying out of relief or crying because the race was hard (which it was)... It felt more like the kind of crying that taps into old sadness.

I can't say I feel particularly good about the marathon. I know we went out to fast; had we reined it in more, I would have had more gas in the tank at the end. So I feel bad that I did not follow common running sense. I know my friend was capable of a faster time, and the way she kept checking her watch made me think she wanted to do more than finish. I don't really understand what happened to me mentally at the end; it was much worse than the soreness in my legs. And I feel bad for not having a more positive feeling about this run. Why can't I have a sense of accomplishment? Why do I have to be so negative?

My outlook might change in the next few days, and I'm going to give it time. Right now my brain is just worn out.

This marathon brought to you by NEON

The marathon is on Sunday.

It's Wednesday night. 

This tapering is making me crazy!

I wish I could run it tomorrow - not because I want to get it over with but because I am just so darn excited about this thing. I may not feel that way at mile 22, of course, but I'm pumped about the challenge. Plus, I really want to run. It's weird to go from doing weeks of 40-50 miles to weeks of ~10-15 miles.

This is the Space Coast Marathon, so RF and I have decided to go with a neon theme. Because, you know. Space = aliens. Aliens = neon. Or something. For whatever reason, the neon seems entirely appropriate.

My running outfit is all planned out:

Neon yellow socks.

Bright pink sleeves for the first few miles when it's cold (this thing starts at 6:15 a.m.! I'm going to freeze.)

Neon yellow and pink shirt, which we plan to decorate with neon pink duct tape.

Neon headband.

Neon fingernail polish.

Oh, and shorts. They're not shown here, but not because I plan on running pantless. They're pretty understated and nondescript compared to everything else. I wish I could do more of a costume-type thing, but I've never tried that before, even for a short run. So that'll have to wait until I'm more marathon-savvy.

Now that that's all planned out, I can go back to watching Honey Boo Boo and twiddling my thumbs.

AHHHHH!

Is it normal to feel like a Chihuahua on crack three days out from a marathon? 

Re-establishing the gluten-free habit

I got glutened this past weekend during a camping trip for a class that I'm teaching. Or rather, I glutened myself, which is a much more accurate way of putting it. And I have felt unwell ever since.

We were in a rural area with few food options. We made a delicious, GF (gluten free) camp meal the night we arrived, but I'd forgotten to bring lunch or any truly substantial snacks for the next day. We got up early and drove from stop to stop, and I quickly felt my stomach begin to gnaw on itself. I had an apple handy, and a Larabar, but these were no match for the bottomless, insatiable pit that is my stomach.

By lunchtime I was beginning to feel dizzy and cranky. I could feel the hangriness coming on. So when we stopped at McDonald's (don't ask, not my choice but the only restaurant option where we were), I threw caution to the wind and ordered a snack wrap, fries, and a soda.

Thing is, I've started to wonder recently just how intolerant I actually am to gluten. I've never been officially tested for Celiac disease. After three years of following a GF lifestyle, I've been thinking that perhaps I made the whole thing up just to ride along on the now-crowded GF bandwagon. And I decided to test that hypothesis at a notoriously unhealthy fast food joint... while hundreds of miles from home... during a trip where I was responsible for driving and relaying information to 20 students.

Did I mention that I washed down my lunch with a pack of peanut M&Ms?

Clearly it wasn't just the gluten - McD's is probably tough on even the hardiest stomachs - but I now recall WHY I went GF in the first place. Part of it is the whole bathroom situation. It's partly the really odd, inappropriate gurgling sounds reverberating throughout my belly. Part of it is the fatigue. But another big part - the part I'd completely forgotten - is the feeling that my abdomen is swollen. It's like my insides are sore and inflamed. It's unnerving, and it can last for several days.

I haven't been eating all that well for about a month now. Training for a marathon means that I am hungry all the time, and I've been traveling a lot, which means that I've relied fairly heavily on high-sodium restaurant food and "healthy" snacks from gas stations and airport kiosks. Seeing friends whom I haven't seen in a long time at conferences means that occasionally I've consumed more alcohol than I normally would. So even without the gluten, my digestive system has been suffering. This was just the final blow.

But I'm back on the GF track now, and I'm going to be very careful - especially in these weeks before the marathon - to eat what I know my body likes. Also, I'm going to have to be more diligent about preparing myself for situations where healthy food options might not be readily at hand.

*  *  *  *  *
Tonight my son and I made brownies for his school's bake sale tomorrow. They're gluten free, dairy free, and oil free, and based on the little nibble I had, they're pretty darn good. I hope they sell.

*  *  *  *  *
The marathon is a week from Sunday! I'm so excited. As the event approaches, I'm sure I'll also feel a bit nervous. But mainly I am looking forward to being in Florida with my family and tackling this challenge with my friend.

Reasons to Run: Breaking Down Barriers

Running has done so much for me - physically, mentally, even spiritually, depending on your definition of spirituality. It's helped me get, and stay, in reasonably good shape. It's been a lifeline when I'm depressed; sometimes it's the only thing that gets me up and on my feet. And it's connected me to a larger community, an inclusive, welcoming community with common values and objectives. It's made me feel less alone.

One goal I have for this blog (assuming I don't fall of the blogging wagon again) is to share the "gospel of running," so to speak. ;-) That may sound a little silly, but I think running is one of many potential catalysts for personal change and growth; it's also one that happens to be relatively inexpensive and doesn't require much equipment. I realize that not everyone wants to run, and that other people use other activities - yoga, climbing, religion, therapy, etc. - as catalysts for change. But it's worth touting running as an option.

One reason I love running is because it breaks down so many internal and external barriers, allowing people to be more real and vulnerable with themselves and one another, and more accepting of differences. For instance:

1) In running, race, religion, sexual orientation, age, country of origin, political beliefs, etc. do not matter. They just don't. None of these factors have anything to do with the act of running. Running bypasses, if not destroys, superficial barriers that seem to cause so many problems in our world and that blind us to our common human experiences.

2) In running, weight and appearance do not matter. When I started running, I was embarrassed to run on city streets because I felt fat and thought people were laughing at me. Granted, it is possible that someone may have made fun of me - but certainly no other runner has ever taunted me. That is simply not the running way. True runners respect and encourage other runners - regardless of how they look or what their pace is - simply because they are challenging themselves. As for bystanders who make fun of a runner's appearance? ...Well, they're the ones just standing there, or sitting in their cars in morning traffic. Who are they to cast judgment?

If you're afraid to start running because you're worried about how you look, try to find a place where you feel at least a little safe from the eyes of others, like a quiet park. Better yet, migrate to where the experienced, dedicated runners work out, like a local track, because even if they're in better shape, there's at least a 99.9% chance that they're going to support you and respect you just for getting out there and putting one foot in front of the other.

3) In running, people understand that everybody poops! Run for a while and you will quickly discover that the usual societal taboos regarding bodily functions don't really apply in the running world. Pooping, passing gas, puking, intestinal distress, figuring out where to pee when there's no bathroom available - these are all topics that runners tend to discuss with enthusiasm. Most runners have their fair share of stories involving said topics, and most runners don't blink twice when their running buddies have issues with bodily functions during races or training runs. It goes with the territory. Run for a while and you are sure to encounter a situation where you regret last night's dinner or have to duck behind a tree.

Poop levels the playing field. Again, it's about shared human experiences.

4) In running, pace does not matter. Well, it does matter a little in that if you run with other people, you have to figure out a way to accommodate different speeds. Either you have to split up (which is fine - you're still running together in spirit), or someone has to run faster while someone else runs more slowly (also fine, as modifying your pace will offer an additional challenge to the workout). But generally speaking, runners recognize that it's about the personal challenge. For some, moving from a 10-minute-per-mile pace to a 9-minute pace is a huge accomplishment; for others, running 20 miles at a 9-minute pace is a relaxing run. The important thing is that people meet their own personal goals and, if they so choose, set their own personal records.

5) In running, there's not much room for faking it. Especially if you're pushing yourself. When you run, you're breathing harder, you're focusing on how your body feels and on how far (or how long) you've been running, and there's less room for worrying about what other people think of you. And that is a really good thing, especially when you run with other people. As I've mentioned before, I've had a tough time making and keeping friends because I'm very self-conscious. But with the people I run with, I have little choice but to be myself - even when that means I'm frustrated or tired or grouchy. They see me when I'm not at my best, and that vulnerability provides more fertile ground for these relationships to develop.

6) Running breaks down mental barriers and perceived limitations. This is one of my favorite things about running. When I started, I thought I couldn't run for 10 minutes without stopping. Then one day I did. I thought I couldn't run for 30 minutes without stopping. After a while, I could. I was sure I wouldn't be able to run a marathon. It was a struggle, but I crossed that finish line. Running gives me an opportunity to surpass my own expectations for myself, and that in turn gives me hope/confidence that maybe, just maybe, I can surpass my own expectations in other areas of my life. In this way, it's helped me see that I am capable of change and growth, even when I feel stuck.

Running as a way to mitigate depression and anxiety?

I've been away - not at the loony bin (though sometimes it's certainly a distinct possibility), but at a professional conference. Actually, wait. This professional conference IS like a loony bin, except that few of the people there actually recognize they have issues and the majority of them don't see psychiatrists. Same issues, less recognition. Always interesting.

Anyway, so first I was preparing for this conference (in the form of putting together a talk, which took a ridiculous amount of time and which put a spotlight on my poor graphic design/PowerPoint skills), and then I was at the conference, and then I was drinking and eating and giving my talk and reuiniting with people I hadn't seen in a while. And drinking more. 

Very little running was involved, unfortunately. I mean, I DID run, but they were relatively short workouts on the hotel treadmill. I should have run 18 miles on Sunday and it just didn't happen. Good thing I am in taper mode, since the marathon is in only 2.5 weeks away. I'm thinking of doing 18 miles this Sunday even though I suppose Hal Higdon would not approve. But would it really pose that much of a problem? I have two weeks after that to rest.

Speaking of running...

The last conference I went to was last June, and for whatever reason, it left me reeling and depressed. I don't know whether it was the stress of traveling, dealing with huge crowds of people, being away from my family, or what, but all of a sudden I went from feeling really stable (for the previous 4-5 months) to hitting bottom again. The situation was not good. At one point I wondered whether I might need to check myself into a hospital. The trigger seemed to be this academic conference experience. Thus, I was concerned that this very recent conference - which involved just as many people, almost as much traveling, and a strong dose of stress - might send me reeling down the same path.

Thankfully, it did not. I've been trying to figure out what the difference was between now and last June.

Things that are the same: I'm still taking an antidepressant, same dose. I'm still seeing my therapist every other week or so (actually less these days). Actually, if anything, the summer conference should have been less stressful: I wasn't teaching any classes at that point. I had to present at both meetings.

So what is different? The only major difference is that I'm now training for a marathon and attending butt-kicking barre classes on a regular basis. So could the extra exercise be at the root of this newfound stability (relatively speaking)? In a way, it seems counterintuitive. Marathon training itself takes a lot of dedication and a certain amount of sacrifice. It cuts into work time, family time, and rest time. Then add to that the barre workouts - if I do them 4 times a week, that's another 6 hours where I'm not really attending to my responsibilities. And yes, on a day-to-day basis, it does feel like a lot. I do feel the strain.

On the other hand, my immersion in these activities means that:

(1) I have more energy during the day and I sleep better at night.

(2) I have less time to worry/stress, because when I'm working out I'm very focused on the task at hand.

(3) I'm forced to make transitions more quickly. For instance, even if my mind WANTS to stay in work mode all evening, when I get to barre class, it simply can't. There's not enough energy for that.

(4) I have a better social life. I'm opening up more to RF, getting to know her friends, and starting to get to know the people at Xtend Barre.

Ultimately, I keep myself so occupied that I do not leave as much room for ruminating, worrying, planning, obsessing. I think that's a big part of it. Maybe I've been underestimating the positive long-term effects of exercise on my mental state. Maybe it's kind of like the antidepressants themselves: one pill here and there won't make much long-term difference; you have to take them every day if you want them to work, and they don't work right away. If you miss a day, it won't hurt you much so long as you get back on track the following day. Perhaps the influence of exercise on the brain is similar: the long-term consistency is key.

Difficult long runs and depression: How to keep going

What I have learned through marathon training so far is that running long distances is a true mind/body experience. As in, at a certain point both your mind and body (especially the legs) are screaming at you to STOP THIS NONSENSE IT IS INSANE. Then you have to somehow find the one small part of you (the David to your Goliath) that is willing to ignore both of them and carry on in the hope that at some point it will get better.

That's the other thing I've learned: you can be feeling completely trashed at mile 16, yet by mile 18 you'll feel like you're flitting weightlessly along on puffy clouds and rainbows. It doesn't seem possible, and yet it happens sometimes - that complete, rapid shift to feeling 100 times better than you did just a few minutes prior. Of course, sometimes it doesn't happen, but with the help of gels, water, mini goals (run to the mailbox... now run to the telephone pole...), and your running buddy, you get through it anyway.

Basically it's taken me approximately two months of marathon training to learn with respect to physical endurance what it's taken 2.5 years of therapy to learn with respect to dealing with depression/mental endurance: you keep moving forward knowing that it is going to get better. You don't know when - be it a mile down the road or 24 miles down the road - but at some point it won't be so hard. You just keep going. It sucks, you keep going. You puke, you keep going. You think bitter, evil thoughts about the drivers who don't understand crosswalk signals, but you keep going.

A difficult long run and depression are obviously not the same thing. If I had to choose between horrible, painful, 20-mile daily runs and daily depression, I would choose the running. No question. And while I *might* wish those horrible running workouts on my worst enemy under the right circumstances, I wouldn't wish depression on anyone. Ever. Because depression is like being in the solitary confinement ward of hell.

But. Sometimes now when I get depressed - and it does happen, frustratingly enough, even with the antidepressants and the running and the decent diet and 6-8 hours of sleep every night and the therapy - I try to treat my mind the way I treat it when I am struggling during a run. Which is basically to ignore the protests while giving it as much meager encouragement and positivity as I can muster, and by trying to distract it.*

It's not that simple, really, or at least it doesn't feel simple when things get bad. But I think this approach - ignoring the negative, saying nice things to myself (even when I protest), clinging to the belief that it won't always be so hard - is helping. I'm not saying it makes me feel good. Honestly, it doesn't. Depression is a deep pit. It's not like you can just launch into a standing jump and hop out of it. But treating depression like a difficult yet surmountable obstacle - as opposed to an insurmountable and permanent fate over which I have absolutely no control or any way to deal with - helps get me through, which at certain points is all I can ask of myself.

“Listen to the people who love you. Believe that they are worth living for even when you don't believe it. Seek out the memories depression takes away and project them into the future. Be brave; be strong; take your pills. Exercise because it's good for you even if every step weighs a thousand pounds. Eat when food itself disgusts you. Reason with yourself when you have lost your reason.” - Andrew Solomon, The Noonday Demon

Tuesday Four (I couldn't think of a fifth)

1. I would like a vacation. Something involving skiing, a beach (not sure it's possible to have both, but that's what I'd like), a massage (or several), good but unpretentious food, sleeping in under a light down comforter, and no work. This will not happen unless a fairy godmother or Oprah ("YOU get a car and YOU get a car and YOU get a car...!") steps in.

2. I'm feeling low. Hopefully it's because a) I'm tired from the long run this past weekend, b) I have PMS, and/or c) I've been too busy for my own good, and not because depression is sneaking its way back in. I'm keeping my guard up, just in case. I suspect some of it has to do with the shorter days. I LOVE summer, when daylight lasts past 8 p.m. I feel suffocated when it gets dark at 5 or 6 p.m.

3. Did I mention that I would like a vacation?

Oprah? Can you hear me?

(Anyone else with me on this?)

4. Ever since I started doing Xtend Barre, I find myself releve-ing and plie-ing when no-one is looking. And pointing my toes.

Wind, rain, hills... 20 miles

20 miles, done.

It was not an easy run for either RF or myself. We started off on an exceedingly hilly road and followed it for the first 11 miles. At mile 4 or 5, we hit a hill that seemed to go on forever, and I really struggled. I kept moving forward, but very slowly, and my mind kind of shut down. I couldn't manage to put together coherent thoughts, except a Little-Engine-That-Could type mantra: Keep going. Keep going. Keep going. This first half of the run was more beautiful, but although I did take note of the gorgeous red, yellow, and orange leaves, I didn't enjoy it much. It was a slog. Plus, my knee started to ache somewhere in there; I worried that it might not hold up.

At mile 11, we stopped to have a snack that my husband had cached for us. Amazing: a little extra water, a little Gatorade, an energy bar, some stretching, and I was like new. In fact, from there on out I felt a whooooole lot better. Not to say the second half was easy. It wasn't. But I found a groove and stayed in it for most of the rest of the way. It helped that we a) walked up a couple of the bigger remaining hills (honestly, I think I walk up hills more quickly than I run them - I go into speedwalker mode) and b) took a bathroom break. Plus, I promised myself that at mile 16 or 17 I could consume my beloved Espresso Hammer Gel. For whatever reason, it tasted absolutely divine, even though anything else would have likely made me puke.

At mile 17.5 or so I started breaking up the run into mini-goals: run to that sign, now run to that electric pole, now run to the stoplight. Mentally, it worked wonders.

During the last mile the wind picked up to 20-25 mph, and we were running directly into it. We felt like we were standing still. That part was tough.

It was good, I think, to have such a tough run and get through it anyway. That way, even if parts of the marathon are rough, we'll know we're capable of pushing through.

*  *  *

Near home, RF joked that "we shall overcome," and suddenly I was swooped back in time to elementary school when we sang that song at nearly every assembly and holiday concert. I remembered all the words and hummed it all the way back. I'd forgotten how much I love that song. And in a way, it was appropriate for our morning. :-)

*  *  *

Got home, iced my knee, ate apple crumble, ate a burrito, ate some chips, drank a lot of fluids, ate some more. Showed my son how to use Q-Tips to spread glue onto paper; ended up with a giant mess on the kitchen table. Showed my son how to make pancakes and roasted potatoes for dinner; ended up with a giant mess on the counter. ;-) I'm surprised at how much energy I had this afternoon. If anything, I had MORE energy than I usually do on days when I do not run.

I love running.

Scattered

This week has gone by ridiculously, ridiculously fast.

Workout rundown:

Sunday - 18 miler (see previous post)

Monday - Day off

Tuesday - 5 miles in the morning, Xtend Barre in evening

Wednesday - Unintentional day off

Thursday - 5 miles in the morning, Xtend Barre in evening (kicked my butt)

Planned workouts:

Friday: 3-4 miles

Saturday: 4 miles

Sunday: 20 miles (!!!) - Yup, going to go for it. My legs feel fine.

In other news, I have been incredibly flaky/forgetful lately, which I didn't quite understand until I took a mental step back to assess what I've been doing. There's just so much going on. Usually I am on the go from the moment I wake up (~5:15 a.m.) to the time I go to bed.

Examples of recent flakiness:

-Forgot psychiatry appointment. For the second time. She was not amused.
-Forgot to put away lab equipment that really needed to be put away promptly. Luckily, we were able to resuscitate it.
-Scheduled birthday party the night before my husband's 7 a.m. marathon (the one that is 2.5 hours away...)
-Forgot to submit various important emails/pieces of paperwork
-Forgot about office hours

I try hard to be conscientious and meet my obligations, but my brain appears to have reached full capacity here. What space I have, I devote to the most important stuff - family, interesting research and teaching, running. Not so much to the things that at this point seem kind of irritating and in the way. Like my meetings with my psychiatrist, who is a nice woman with meager therapy skills and who I just wish would give me my prescription without me having to come in once a month even when I feel completely fine.

Clearly I need to make more lists or something. Except then I would lose them, so really, what is the point.

I hope I feel that good on race day!

I have never run this far while feeling so okay and maintaining such a consistent pace (10:31). It was a really enjoyable 18 miler.

What helped:

• RF not letting me know how far we'd gone until mile 10 (better if I don't know)
• The cool, cloudy weather - SUCH an improvement over the 15 miler from a few weeks ago, when we were slogging through 85 degrees + high humidity + blazing sun. I just plain suck at running in high temps. 
• The leaves falling down like parade confetti
• Discovering at mile 16 that the Hammer Espresso gel is AWESOME... I'm not a huge fan of gels (too warm, too gooey, too mucus-like) but this was just the right combination of chocolate + espresso + sugar. Pleasant surprise.
• Running with RF, who always shows up with plenty of interesting stories to tell. She makes the time pass quickly, and I love our conversations.
• Stopping at a gas station halfway through to grab a Gatorade. Tasted divine.

At mile 14 or so, I found myself marveling at how absolutely fantastic I felt. I should have seen that as a warning sign: 2.5 miles later my legs were killing me and I was wondering whether I could make it another 1.5 miles. We actually sped up at the end: we just wanted to be done. Something tells me a lot of the tiredness at the end was mental.

If I feel that good on race day, I'll be thrilled.

Next Sunday we're supposed to do 12 miles (I think) and then 20 the week after. We're trying to decide whether we can get away with doing the 20 miler next week, since RF has a weekend-long commitment coming up in two weeks. 

Jetlagged

I got home almost a week ago, and my waking/sleeping schedule is still off. I keep waking up bright eyed and bushy tailed at 5 a.m. (not like me) and by 8:15 p.m., I'm falling asleep (not like me). One evening I fell asleep standing up.

This wouldn't really be a problem - because I've actually been quite productive during the day, and I have time in the morning to eat/drink/etc. prior to running - except that I haven't spent much time with my husband. Usually we put our son to bed, talk, have a glass of wine or a beer, and watch an episode or two of Breaking Bad. But I can't get through five minutes of that show right now. We're so far behind.

*  *  *  *
Tomorrow's the 18 miler. I won't lie: I'm a bit nervous. My main concern is my legs. They were cramping pretty badly by the end of the 15-mile run, and I'm not sure how to prevent that from happening again other than conscientiously drink fluids along the way.

I feel like my RF has higher expectations of us than I do. Personally, I really don't care how we get through these long runs as long as we get through them. Walking is fine. Stopping for refreshments is fine. But she seems pretty determined to run run run the whole way. Part of me is a little concerned that I'm going to disappoint her, but I also feel like we need to treat the marathon a little differently from, say, a 10K. The expectation this time around should be to finish, period.

I've made loads of improvement in my speed since starting to run with RF, so I can't complain. She's great. But she is also a faster and more natural runner than I am. She is long, lean, and gazelle-like. I am short, stockier, and built more like... well, like not a gazelle. Sometimes I worry that she will get frustrated by my inability to keep up.
*  *  *  *
At any rate. 18 miles tomorrow, and it WILL get done! And we WILL have a relatively good time.

Change

I grew up in an environment that touted change - or important, life-altering change at any rate - as something that happens in an instant. You are given a choice, you make the right choice, that moment stands as The Moment When It All Changed Forever, and that was that. Change involves a single epiphany that then stands as sort of a North Star for life.

So I guess I've always had it in my head that I should be able to change immediately. It should be something I can will to happen right away, if I just try and believe hard enough. Mind over matter.

What I have come to understand is that change can be painfully, glacially slow, so slow that you can't see it happening in the moment. Rather, you can most easily see it when you reflect how you handle multiple instances of a particular situation or problem over many months or years or maybe decades. I spent a lot of time doing that last week while traveling: for instance, considering how I handled meeting new people three years ago (panic, self-consciousness, dissociation) versus how I handle meeting new people now (still shy and self-conscious, but I try to look people in the eye, smile, and hope that they will give me time to be myself, and I try very very hard to avoid spacing out). How I dealt with travel delays/cancellations three years ago (panic panic RED ALERT OMG I AM NOT IN CONTROL) versus how I handle them now (this sucks, but hey, did you say I get an upgrade to first class???) How I handled self doubt then (wow, you're such a moron, how can you even show your face) versus now (you're doubting yourself, and that's normal, but you have a lot to offer... Hang in there, you can do this).

I'm not saying I'm a whole new me or that my reactions to problems/dilemmas are always ideal, but... yeah, I see a change, and that change seems largely permanent. I have modified my habits and way of thinking to the point where I feel like I can live with myself. I even like myself a lot of the time. But again, it took a lot of time. And talking. And ugly emotional crises. And depressions. And cutting. And digging through unpleasant memories. And learning to trust certain people. And stepping back from the ledge (figuratively, but kind of literally, too) when I needed to.

I realize that life and experience are fluid, and that things won't always go as well as they are going now. But just knowing that change happens - albeit slowly - helps.

"Thanks to impermanence, everything is possible." - Thich Nhat Hanh

*  *  *

In other news, marathon training continues. Yesterday I ran 5 miles on my own, and today I ran 8 miles with my training buddies. Tomorrow it's another five miles, followed by several miles on Saturday and (GULP) 18 miles on Sunday. Wow.