In my last blog post, I mentioned that I’d been struggling with depression and would be requesting a medication adjustment from my doctor. She adjusted my current medication and scheduled an in person follow up for a month in the future. I’ve had my ups and downs. I was better for a couple weeks and then I reached a point where I had some really dark thoughts and was too deep in it to confide in anyone about it. I’m still struggling with darkness, but I’m not trying to think of ways to end my life anymore. I’m still not myself and I know it, but I can’t snap my fingers and bring myself back. Faking it until I make it, I suppose.
I was trying my hardest with workouts at the gym and coming out on the bottom most days. I began to feel like my best efforts weren’t worth it and considered quitting. I distanced myself from talking to people because I didn’t want to discuss what I’d already decided in my head. I didn’t want anyone to think they should have known. I haven’t been able to get my speed up on long runs. Despite my goal this year of getting a PR, I was coming up much slower. I wasn’t seeing anything in myself past mediocrity and wanted to be really good at something. I couldn’t see past comparison to find the joy in my own progress.
I don’t know how much I like sharing any of this. Truth is, I fell into this around the same time last year when I was off medication. I can’t believe it came back to haunt me. The thing that caused my PTSD didn’t happen until late November.
Anyway, I made my best efforts to just do things. Going through the motions would ensure I didn’t throw any red flags to anyone. Thursday, I decided to try to use a weight I didn’t think I would be able to use to do the workout. I was mostly proud of myself right after finishing. Later in the day, I wasn’t as proud. Thursday night, I saw there were box jumps on the workout the next day. I went out to my garage for an hour and practiced until dinner and then again for about 30 minutes. I banged my shins and knees on the edge. I had the box close to the wall so I wouldn’t fall forward and I knocked my knuckles into the wall multiple times catching myself. I never made it on top of the 20″ box that night. Friday, I did the workout stepping up to the box instead of jumping. I waited until most everyone was gone after class and I pulled out a box and practiced until I finally did box jumps. I took a video and posted it because I did it. Even the joy from that faded later in the day.
Saturday, I did a workout where a mile run was at the beginning and end of the workout. While it was my fault my team came in dead last because of my inability to put 95 pounds over my head [again], my first mile was 8:49 and that was fast for me to run without a warm up.
Sunday, my husband encouraged me to sleep in and run after church. I got ready and decided I would go run on another part of the trail instead of by my house. I set out for 11 miles while in the back of my mind wanting to run 13.1 miles. I felt so good, I had to slow myself down at times. Around 11 miles, the wheels started to fall off and everything in me told me to quit. Then, I remembered that quitting is conditioned and the more I quit, the more I’d become comfortable with it. I don’t quit. I never have. I paused a moment, put my arms over my head, took a drink of water, and set back off along the trail. Near my car, I still had a little over a half mile to go. I slowed a little looking back thinking that nobody knew I wanted to go 13.1 miles and nobody would know if I didn’t finish. Then, I realized that I knew and I had committed to myself. I ran to 13 miles and turned back to finish. That last .1 mile, I was flying. I couldn’t stop. I just wanted to go. My watch read 8:36 for my pace. I finished in 2:22:44 and my PR is 2:18. It was the fastest half marathon time I’ve put up since my November 2016 injury.
I also started a trial of a weight loss app that I’ll get more into soon. I started Wednesday and I’ve been more energetic and started losing weight.
I hope that I’m back to my normal, cheery self soon. I’m a little sick of my own shit. I’ve made an effort to still be kind and raise other people up, so I hope that my being down hasn’t affected other people too much.
Thanks for reading!
Don’t forget to find the wins along the journey. Every good and perfect gift comes from above. God has carried me through these times. He was definitely there on my long run pushing me through because He knew how much it would help. I believe it.