Yeah, it’s me. You know the one – the one who spent half of last year trying to get knocked up via drugs, doctors and procedures, then ran a quickie 100-miler when it didn’t work, and then proceeded to fall off the face of the Salty earth?
I’m baaaa-aaaack. And I’m sorry.
You know, I meant to get back a hundred different times. Busy is not a fair excuse, so here’s the lowdown. Truth.
1. I was pissed that I couldn’t get pregnant. I didn’t realize that. Because we had been trying for over four years, I thought I was over being sad and depressed about it. I was. But I forgot about anger being a part of the grieving process, and I got really pissed for awhile.
2. Then I was pissed at myself for being pissed because I prefer to be a grateful person. So I took some time to beat up on myself.
3. Then I focused on DB’s big race at Badwater. Then I started the fall season with Clif Bar and the Columbus Marathon, and realized that I didn’t have time for anything, including myself. That sucked, and I ended up getting really sick, because I already suffer from chronic depression, and there’s nothing better for depression than feeling completely overwhelmed and inadequate for weeks on end, all while not getting enough sleep and drastically altering your regular routine.
4. By the time the holidays came around, I was ready to start training again but completely physically exhausted, so I pretty much took a self-imposed two-week vacation of nothing but running and sleeping.
5. Now, Rocky Raccoon is just six days out and I am finally ready to attack for all the right reasons. But man, did it take some time getting there.
Work is busier than ever, and I couldn’t be more grateful. My days right now are packed, and I know from being there myself how many of our country’s unemployed citizen’s would kill to be in that position. Yes, I thought about taking a break from Salty Running – even after I told Salty I wanted to stay – because I needed to take care of myself first, and time, pressure, busy, stress … etc.
And then I read about Madison Holleran. A girl who so many probably thought had it all.
You see, there’s this woman who goes to my church. She’s in her early 40’s, a single mom who’s struggled with unemployment on top of everything else being a single mom entails. She started running a couple of years ago, first 5K’s, and now her first half-marathon. She looks up to me – I know she does – and always eagerly announces her newest achievement or running outfit. She tells me how in awe she is of my running and introduces me as “amazing.”
She came up to me after church yesterday, and complemented my outfit, my new haircut, and told me how I was just always so pulled together. She said when I came off the altar from communion, she literally stopped in her tracks at how “perfect” everything was: my hair, my outfit, etc. And I laughed, and confessed to her that it was the exact same outfit I had worn out to dinner the night before, that I hadn’t showered that morning since I had the night before, and that, gross or not, even the eyeliner was actually leftover from Saturday night.
I didn’t tell her that I was freaking out in the pharmacy the night before, because my health insurance had changed (again), which drove the cost of my anti-depressant (yes I do, and it’s my business and choice) up to $90 a month, but they weren’t going to give it to me at all because I didn’t have my new prescription card with me. And why did I freak out? Because I have PTSD and nightmares and I don’t like nightmares. I like waking up in Columbus, OH – not some ancient childhood house of terror.
And that’s why I’m here, and that’s why I’m writing. Because we need each other - every one of us – even when we’re busy. Even we look perfect on the outside. Even when it seems like I’m fine, or I think you’re fine – because the truth is, most of us aren’t fine. And none of us are fine all the time.
To the sisterhood of readers and writers alike: thank you for accepting me how I am. For giving me space but still checking in. For reminding me, even silently, that I am never alone, and that there are so many others like me. I am not excited to back, but grateful.
Well – this was supposed to be a training log, wasn’t it? Last week was a 49 mile taper week, and it was all over the place. It took place on a 2-degree day in Ohio, an 81-degree day in California, and on more treadmills than I care to remember.
This Saturday, Rocky Raccoon and I go head-to-head for round 3, and I’m gunning for a PR which means going under 19:24. I’m doing it because I want to feel strong and tough and fast for a long time – and for no other reason.
After that, I’m going to do something really weird: recover for two weeks and then do low-mileage training to (hopefully) run 3:25 at Boston. Imagine that. Clove training for a mere marathon. Who knew.
What’s up with YOU?