Another Mile or Two

I am full of intentions and unrequited expectations.

It's hard to admit your weaknesses, to others, to yourself, to a silent piece of paper posted to your blog for all the world to see.

I don't know if any good will come of it, but I'm sharing in the hopes that I help others to feel less alone; believing that in solidarity, maybe there will be strength.

After my first 1/2 marathon, I crashed... mentally and emotionally speaking.... a depressive crash.  Interesting that we use the word crash to describe it.... a plummeting motion that leaves you feeling mentally and emotionally impacted, like a physical crash would.  The running really was serving as medication to my depression and anxiety and when I stopped, it was almost like experiencing what it feels like when you stop taking your anti-depressants.

I had some really dark moments this winter.  I've been working at getting to a better place, I'm taking some vitamins from True Hope and have found some relief from the depression and anxiety.  I've done some visceral massage, which alleviates the symptoms for a bit... but what I really need is to run again... on a more consistent basis.  For me, running isn't just about being skinnier or burning a enough calories to eat whatever I want... although, those things are enticing.  I just need a reprieve from the heaviness weighing on my mind.

Today, I tried to go for a run.  But, I couldn't.  I started crying instead and had to just walk.   I had started getting into a routine, but these last two weeks I've 'lost' my running mojo and have found myself buried neck deep in silly books.  As if I'm trying to escape life again like I did as a child, sometimes imaginary living is so much easier.   But running today made me face all those things that I had been hiding from. It was like it just spilled out of my chest and couldn't be contained,  and so I cried.  The last time I remember really crying while I was running, I mean really stop you in your tracks crying, was during a cross country race after one of my friends had died.  I don't know if I'm emotionally in the same place that I was on that day so long ago, but there are enough worries on my mind that it weighed me down today.   Part of me felt like it might be a gift to release my pent up emotions, even when I don't really see any immediate solutions to my problems.

When I knew I couldn't cry anymore I started singing... which made me feel a tiny bit grateful for High School Choir and the smidgen of songs I still remembered.   And it made me smile to remember how often my friends told me I would die in the woods singing, because some bear would think I was a dying animal and would come to investigate.  Singing out loud also made me fill a bit silly, which  made me laugh at myself... and when a woman came rushing out of the canyon on her bike, belting out Spanish songs, I felt a connection and spoke out loud, "Que te vayas bien, cantando."  Being in the canyon, walking and running, singing out loud helped to heal my soul.  I just hope that I can find the strength I need to find an eventual resolution... or at least the strength to carry it all another mile or two.