Depression Marathon Blog

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Diagnosed with depression 16 years ago, I lost the life I once knew, but in the process re-created a better me. I am alive and functional today because of my dog, my treatment team, my sobriety, and my willingness to re-create myself within the confines of this illness. I hate the illness, but I'm grateful for the person I've become and the opportunities I've seized because of it. I hope writing a depression blog will reduce stigma and improve the understanding and treatment of people with mental illness. All original content copyright to me: etta. Enjoy your visit!

Sunday, August 24, 2014

At mile six...

I ran a local half marathon this morning. It was at mile six that I began composing the title to this post, and the title most appropriate at the time was/is Fuck Depression! Fuck this despicable illness. Fuck the despair and negativity. Fuck the lonliness and isolation. Fuck the emptiness. And most pertinent this morning, fuck the heavy, paralyzing, immobility. I hate this illness.

I knew running this morning was a dubious idea. After all, with the exception of work, I had been stuck in my house all week. Depression had me tightly in its grasp. I had hardly moved, much less run any miles. But I was hopeful nonetheless. I thought, if I could get myself to the starting line my fitness may prevail. After all, I've been running/training for months. I was hoping the missed week wouldn't bite me in the ass.

But I did get bit in the ass this morning. Depression ripped me to shreds. I could do nothing to change what took place. With the exception of the first mile, when I felt okay, every successive mile was painful and slow, and slower, and slowest. The first time I contemplated dropping out was at mile three. My legs were dead. I couldn't catch my breath. My energy was already low. I knew it wasn't going to get better.

I knew the next ten miles would only get tougher, and they did. I don't know why I didn't drop out. Pure stubborness, I guess. But I didn't have fun. I didn't enjoy myself. Instead I was angry and frustrated, disappointed and uncomfortable. I ran as much as I could, but I walked a fair amount, too. I didn't want to walk, but there was no other choice. My body and my brain rebelled the entire race today.

Fuck depression! Today I ran the second slowest half marathon I've ever run. Ever. I'm not happy, but I'm glad I tried. I think staying home and giving in to the lethargy would have ultimately felt worse.

8 comments:

Kat Speeckaert said...

You are so strong and so brave. You deserve so much better than what depression has given you. I hope this episode is brief and you're feeling better soon.

Jean Grey said...

You are so amazing for finishing. Depression is so terrible. I sometimes think that they should give gold medals just for getting out the door when you are depressed. You did a half marathon!

Irene said...

Nothing to like about depression but at least you face it. And you give to others from your suffering. You help others accept themselves and you've furthered understanding. And since we don't have a cure, thanks for all you've managed to do. I hope it loosens it's grip on you.

Rachael Wood said...

So proud of you for making it to the finish line. You didn't give up, no matter how bad you felt, you achieved something. Well done xxx

Jesse said...

Wow. I can't imagine I'd have finished.
In fairness to you, your resolve may well have made the next few days at least a little bit better than if you'd spent another day at home.
I hope so. Thanks for your insights.

Bengal said...

I just want to say that I admire your determination and drive. Hope you're feeling better soon.

Rikke Sommer said...

Be proud - you did great! The hardest struggle is against oneself and one's mind

A Touch of Quiet said...

What a courageous decision, to run and to share so honestly. Thank you, Lisa xx



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