My Recovery Series: Running from Your Depression and Anxiety
++ Disclaimer: this is a post written before I got help for my depression. In an effort to be as transparent as possible with my story, I am posting these stories so that if you read them in chronological order you can see the progression of recovery. This is the fourth installment of my story. I knew something was wrong, I just couldn’t ask for help. I would fix this myself.
I think that everybody creates their own coping mechanisms for life. For example, Xander has had issues with making friends his whole school career, so he retreats into his games and art as a coping mechanism. Its the thing that can “fix” the uncomfortable feelings. Raylee doesn’t do well with “mean girls”, so she chooses to spend her time with adults and elderly people. She actively avoids the discontentment of preteens by focusing her energy on pleasing her adults. Everybody does something to help themselves get through this life.
My coping mechanism for my depression and anxiety is to run. Literally run. I get out every morning and I go for a run. The conversation in my head goes something like this: Got my drink, got my shoes, going to get my run on before life gets crazy today. If I run I will feel better, I will have a better day, I will not feel so depressed. If I run my life will be better. If I run I will forget that I have depression, just for a little while I will be a normal person, focusing on a normal thing, not thinking about depression. If I run my anxious thoughts will go away while I focus on my breathing and pace and the traffic lights and the cars coming and the dog on the corner that occasionally is off his chain. If I run…
See, running has become my “drug of choice”. It starts like any other addiction, its appealing for one reason or another. For me it was the endorphin high that came after running, I felt better and I smiled more that day. But I also think that, like any other drug, eventually a little bit isn’t enough anymore. So the high I felt after running a 5k, wasn’t enough anymore so I would sign up for a 10k, so that I could train longer and get a better high. I felt better about myself because I was doing more and longer runs. After a 10k I was invited to run a half. And I jumped at the idea! YES an excuse to run all the time. I can train for a half and run higher miles and really throw myself behind this addiction I was creating. And I ran that half like a mother! I rocked it, and finished feeling high. Like a crack addict looking for a new high, I keep running further and longer and faster. Each new PR like a beacon that said “I’m ok” “I got this”
Then I did it. I signed up for a marathon. I thought : Now I’m really going to outrun this depression thing. Anxiety? What’s that? I’m running so much faster than those things, they will never catch up to me again. I was as high as a kite. So I signed up for the Indianapolis Monumental Marathon. Now, training for a marathon is no easy task. I found out it is work. Real work.
And I discovered that there is a tipping point for endorphin’s. Like the endorphin’s that are released that make me feel great, taper out about mile 13. Everything after that mile is no longer a “helpful” mile, in fact it goes the opposite way. And the crash after a long run is *really bad*. I could run 20 miles, but then would come home and sleep for 2 days. And not want to get up. Ever. I would invite the black depression monster to come sleep in that bed with me. And the anxious thoughts would eat me up, until I would fall sleep. and Sleep was always the best because atleast if Im sleeping Im not feeling. And I’m ALWAYS FEELING!! I wish I could feel less.
Anyway, while I was running today. I realized that I’m running, and I’m running, and… I’m running some more. And I realized that I CANNOT out run my “bad parts”. So I’m going to run a marathon next week. So What? What happens on November 6th? Besides me crashing in my bed again. IT’s going to be a horrible day after. Like a hangover after a great party then night before. The running focuses my brain on the task at hand for a while. It forces me to FOCUS my attention on to the marathon training. But let me tell you, my feet and legs are breaking down. Like a corrosive liver of a drunk, my legs are sore and my feet and heels ache all the time. Even on my rest days. I have thrown all of my weight behind this act that gives me temporary relief of the symptoms of depression and anxiety. I fear the day after my marathon.
I can’t outrun my depression. I CANNOT out run my depression. I can’t. It is going to be here waiting when I get back. And I just don’t know what to do with that realization yet.