Thoughts While Running #022
back on my bullshit
As quickly as the anxiety came, the anxiety went. After a rough two weeks it’s mostly subsided. The crescendo being a fruitless doctor’s appointment in which she told me my lungs and labs looked good but my anxiety was ‘severe’. An ‘it’s all in your head’ without saying ‘it’s all in your head’. Ever the opportunist, I politely thanked her for her help and her time and asked, since I appeared to be physically a-okay, if I could resume running again. She gave me the all clear and two Saturdays ago I ran for the first time in nearly three weeks.
I’d love to say I eased back into it with some intervals of running and walking, all the while flooded with gratitude for my body and the ability to move again. That I stayed true to my promise to ‘never take running for granted,’ that the sky seemed bluer and the sun seemed warmer. In reality I aimed for a slow 4 miles, ended up running 5 and berated my slower than normal pace because slower than normal didn’t also feel easier than normal. My legs and my lungs felt like they were filled with cement and I slogged through each and every mile longing for that feeling I had four weeks ago when running felt ‘easy’.
So here I am, back on my bullshit in both the literal and figurative sense. I’m back to my usual routine of pilates and running and work (so much work!) and while I’m grateful to be breathing big full deep breaths I’m also grumpy, irritated and feeling gratitude-less in areas where I feel like I should be skipping and dancing through fields of daisies.
I still don’t really know what was wrong - if it was the anxiety causing shortness of breath or shortness of breath causing the anxiety. If it was a post viral thing or hormonal or general stress. A bunch of proverbial chicken or egg scenarios I probably never really will have answers for. What I do know is I feel better, but anxiety and irritability have always been quietly lurking in the background and so I’ve decided to add a very low dose of zoloft to my training plan of life. It’s that or microdosing mushrooms but this is the option that’s covered by our health insurance.
In the meantime, here I am back to running. Reminding myself to be patient, to ease back into it, and for the love of god to ignore my pace because slow or fast are all just relative, really. Who am I competing against anyway? Myself? My age? Some random stranger who happens to be running the same route as me that I decide I must pass in a competition that is entirely one sided?
How much more enjoyable could running be if I just said fuck it to all of these things and just let myself run. To run a pace that feels good without judgement or even acknowledgment. So many times I’ve found myself running on a weekend during that precious time frame known as the toddler nap window, when the sun is out and the sky is clear, alone and yet I’m pushing pushing pushing my pace and for what? So I can be done sooner? Why not run for leisure…extend the amount of time I have alone, in the sun, under that clear blue sky. Why the rush? Why the goal to complete the miles in the shortest amount of time possible?
I signed up for a 5k on Saturday - a fun run in celebration of pride, sponsored by our local LGBTQIA run club and I’m on the fence as to whether I’ll actually do it. Immediately after signing up I found myself looking at past race results, sizing up the imaginary competition, wondering where I’d place. If I were to run it, I’d like to race it, since it’s just a 5k. See how fast I could push my time and if I could beat my previous PR of 19:57. Four weeks ago I know I could do it…now I’m not so sure. Rather than just run for fun I actually might just not run it at all. How lame is that?
Maybe it isn’t lame and maybe the reality is I just don’t like races? The truth is they’ve alway brought up feelings of anxiety for me. Perhaps they remind me a little too much of when I used to toe the line during my cross country days and I’ve always had some level of performance anxiety, especially when it comes to sports. The reason I even ran cross country in the first place was because I ended up being a terrible basketball player. While I loved being on a team and running drills at practice, I rode the bench all season freshman year because I choked under the pressure on game days. The weight of everyone’s expectations, all their eyes on me. The one and only time I ever scored in a game was for the other team because I ran the wrong way down the court (which I guess that also explains why I was wide open 🫠).
Maybe this is why I’ve always preferred longer distances, why the half marathon was my jam for so many years. It’s a distance that requires a significant level of training and discipline but one where the pace requires a bit more discernment. It’s really hard to all out balls to the wall a half marathon. I mean, it is possible and I have done it and the pain cave is real but it’s a different mentality than balls to the walling a 5k. One is a slow burn and the other is a sprint, and right now I’m not sure I really feel like sprinting.
I am who I am and I am where I am and rather than ‘shoulding’ all over myself about how I should just be chill and should just run for fun maybe I give myself a hall pass and meet myself where I am with compassion vs. expectation. There’s a reason I don’t regularly sign up for races and I only signed up for this one because I wanted to support a good cause. Goal met : cause supported. Maybe I just run on my own and give myself (and my anxiety) a bit of grace. There’s always next year, or not. Maybe I also just accept that right now, in this season, races just aren’t for me.
Except for turkey trots…I will always love me a trot.
*k