The Slow Comeback 

As the title of this post implies, the comeback to form is slow, especially with running. My body remembers how easily it used to glide and soar along the trails and roads that it now struggles to maintain an even pace on. Each day does get a little easier, though not without those days of struggle. I go on these runs, often by myself, and constantly think about where I used to be. I used to be truly fit.  Even still, I don’t get down.  Instead I remember the process, and am encouraged that I know I can get back to and beyond the level I used to be. On the road to Boston, if I really want to get there, I know I have no choice. 

It’s also a sobering fact for life too. As I’ve been battling with my depression, I’m reminded of the process and lessons that running teaches us. I know I will have good and bad days, but I know that things are slowly inproving. Slowly, I’m getting my life back. Slowly, I return to my familiar self that loved life, and not the one that is scared of it. 

What Happened?

It’s funny really…I started this whole thing 5 months ago to keep myself accountable for my training, to be more creative, and to give myself another voice to express myself. Then I hid in a metaphorical hole and didn’t write again. 

I was ambitious, excited for new possibilities and growth, and then it all fell flat. I stopped writing, or even caring too, because I was depressed. Now I don’t mean I was just down in the dumps, I have been clinically depressed. Straight up. Wanted to hurt myself and everything. Still am too. I let my life fall away because I thought things that aren’t important were and lost sight of what is.  Even more importantly, I lost my running.  

Running means so much to me. It has been my stress reliever, given me motivation, a sense of self, an identity, and I let it fall to the wayside.  I was talking with my best friend (also a runner) and we were both talking about how much we missed having running being an important part of our lives. It has given us so much. So we decided to say fuck it…let’s qualify for the Boston Marathon. Fuck the sadness, fuck the pain. I can still put one foot in front of the other and kick some ass. And I can still mamage to write some damn words and talk about the funny shit that I see and that goes through my head on my runs. So I will. That is my pledge, and to get my head together. Hopefully it’s fun.