How Running Saved My Life

There is a saying, you can't put the toothpaste back in the tube.  Have you heard of it?  Well, once I tell my story, I can't take it back.  I will have exposed myself to my community and am now at the mercy of their judgement.  But, if I can help someone as I was helped, it will be worth it.

I suffer from severe depression.  Have so for years.  It ebbs and flows...sometimes I'm happy for a long period of time, and sometimes I just want the world to end, at least my part of it.  A few years ago, I spent the entire month of December in bed except to go out to the store three times.  It was definitely a low point and one I don't care to repeat.

I discovered my love of running just over two years ago when I ran my first official race, the Nike Women's Half Marathon in October of 2014.  Rarely will you see me without the Tiffany medal around my neck.  It was my proudest accomplishment until I ran my first full marathon last year.

But let's not get ahead of the story...

I ran the Nike Half, the RnR San Francisco Half, and then the RnR Liverpool Half.  They were amazing.  I had the RnR Tour Pass 3-Pack, so I decided to also include San Jose that year, which was a race that I really did not enjoy.  I don't like running in the heat, and October in San Jose is still hot.

So I stopped running and just focused on working.

I had experienced some major setbacks in my personal life that year, which I will continue to keep private.  The only thing that kept me smiling was my job--one that I continue to truly love.  When the depression would hit hard, the only thing that got me out of bed was work.  I would spend days in bed with the lights off, just crying and feeling horrible.  But, a show would come around, and I would jump at the chance to get on a plane and get away from my current misery, put on a pretty face, and go out in public.  January, February, March...I spent as little time at home as possible.

I was in Washington DC in March 2016, working a convention and decided to stay in a hostel.  I had never stayed in a hostel before, but figured, why not?  I was going through another severe low, and being alone was NOT a good idea.  I'm pretty sure I wasn't going to do any harm to myself, but, you never really know with depression when you will cross the line.  Too many have found out the hard way where the line is, and are no longer with us.  I didn't want to be a statistic.

I was only supposed to be in DC a week for work, but decided to stay for a few days and play tourist, since I had never really seen the city.  With the company of a coworker, we stayed an extra three days, and it really improved my mood.  I saw that the RnR DC was that weekend and figured, what the heck, and decided to sign up and stay through Monday.

The night before the race I hung out with the guests at the hostel, drinking beer, telling stories, and them calling me crazy for signing up for a half marathon.  Yup.  But it kept me from staying in my bunk, hiding my sobbing, and wishing that I had any other life than the one I had.

So I got up super early, grabbed my gear, and headed to the common area to eat and get ready for a half marathon.

Sitting on the couch was a young man getting ready for the race, and we chatted a bit.  I told him that it was nothing for me to jump on a plane and fly across the country for work, and he said he felt the same about races.  He told me that he was going to run the 5K, and hopefully get back to the half starting line so he could do two races in one day.  I admired that, as I had just closed a huge show in San Francisco, and redeyed into DC to open another one.  I knew we were alike.  We switched contact info as he told me about this really great running team that was as crazy about travel as we both were.  And out the door we both went.

DC was great!  I hadn't run in months, but I still earned a PR.  I had already signed up for the RnR San Francisco the next month and was excited to meet some of the people on my new "Team."  But when I got back to San Francisco, I rediscovered my depression, and while not as bad as it was the month before, it still weighed me down.

If anyone knows about people who suffer from depression, they know to keep us away from bridges when we are down.  The RnR SF takes us over and back of the Golden Gate Bridge.  I hate that bridge.  I hate running across it, biking across it, driving across it, doing anything across it.  It's always in the back of my mind how easy it would be to just go out there sometime when I hit another low and...well...yeah.  End it.

And this race takes us over it.  Twice.

To make it worse, I fell on the bridge and broke my toe.  Oh, joy.  But I had a good friend running her first half marathon, so I got up, put on a smiley face, looked straight ahead and kept going.  My time sucked, but I finished, and with a bag of ice taped to my foot, I limped home, ready to fly to Las Vegas the next day to work all day standing in dress shoes.

I hate that bridge.

But, running continued once I healed, with Liverpool again, Seattle, Virginia Beach, Chicago, and a bunch of others.  I was meeting so many new people who I had so much in common with as we were on the course.  We all loved to run, but we all had just an edge of sorrow within us.  We can spot it within each other...it's a secret handshake of sorts that we don't talk about but know it is there.  And I think that is what gets us through the rough spots, both on the course and in our personal life.

Eleven half marathons down in 2016.  Holy smokes.  I'm feeling good, but still missing something...the depression is not as strong because I'm traveling like crazy, either for work or for races.  I don't have time to feel sad.  Dublin, Lisbon, Brooklyn.  Places I had never seen or thought I would see.  Each of them kept my mind busy and my calendar full.

What was missing was a full marathon.  OK.  Hell, why not.

I signed up for the RnR Savannah and didn't tell anyone.  I didn't want to be the girl who tried to do something and failed.  I'd been made fun of my whole life for my inability to keep up physically with everyone else, and I sure as hell wasn't going to attempt a full and DNF.  I could never be seen in my group again.

A few people figured out that I was trying to do the full and one even upgraded to run with me.  So sweet.  I don't want to embarrass him by naming him, but his initials are ZZ.  LOL.  Nobody has ever done something like that for me.  I always do things alone.  And now someone was going to stay by my side to make sure I was OK.  Yeah, this is new.

The morning of the marathon came, and the word was out.  Everyone knew I had never run more than 15 miles and I was attempting 26.2.  Well, that's me.  Why not.

I was nervous as hell and quite intimidated as I had my breakfast and warmup in the VIP area.  People saw my bib and really encouraged me to be strong and finish.  My friends were there, as was the rest of my team, and I felt good.

And then, someone came over to me and said some words I will never forget:

"I wanted to tell you that no matter what happens, I love you, and I'm proud of you."

I honestly think I had been waiting to hear that sentence my whole life.  I don't think anyone has ever said that to me.  And I'm 45 years old.

There was no way I wasn't going to finish.  Kicking and screaming and crawling, I was crossing that finish line.

And I did.  Because someone cared.  Not because of something that they wanted from me, or because they had to say that to me, but simply because I needed to hear it, so he said it.  It was the most selfless thing anyone has ever done for me.

I finished the marathon, ran a punishing Las Vegas half a week later, and earned my Hall of Fame (15 races in one year) in San Antonio in December, and then went home for three weeks.

And yes, the depression leaked back in, but not as bad as the years before.  I survived December and the holidays alone and went back out on the road for January, February, and March...the usual.  But this time, I made sure to work in my races where I could.

Because I needed them.  And I needed my friends.

Full marathon in New Orleans in February.  DC again, Dallas to Mexico City, and then San Francisco.  That damn bridge again.  Where I fell and lost my nerve.  But this time I owned it.  As my previous blog stated, not only was it a great race, but I set a new PR.  I think this time, because I know how much I hate that bridge, it was that emotion that powered me over and back.  It wasn't going to win.  Not this time.

And then a two month break...I couldn't race because work was too busy and I really felt the effects.  The depression crept back in, and when I finally had a week off in early May, I spent it in bed...not crying as much as I used to do, but definitely feeling the effects of depression.  And not training.  I just couldn't get up and go for a run.  Between the depression and the guilt from not running, I was a mess...

But Liverpool was coming, and this was going to be my second full of the year.  And I did it.

And then I flew back to the US and completed the San Diego full a week later.  PR.  And the coveted Triple Marathon Medal.  Oh, that felt good!!

And we all know how much I like those marathon finisher jackets!!!!

I've had to miss some races that I wanted to do because of work, but I'm still on track to complete my 15 required races for the RnR Hall of Fame this year.

I'm also throwing in a few more just for the heck of it.  Because...why not??

Tomorrow morning I'll be up at 3 AM to have breakfast and pull on my long sleeves to run the San Francisco Full Marathon.  I have no idea what possessed me to do this race, but I'm still going to try anyway.  I'm sore from the Chicago half last week and a full week on my feet for work, but, hell...if my mental state can't defeat me, my physical state sure won't.  I don't care if I'm last across the finish line, I'm still going to cross it unaided.

And I'm going to run across that damned bridge.  Twice.  I hate that bridge.  But I'm not going to let it beat me.  Someday I want to run across it and actually enjoy it enough to smile.  But until then, I'll be head down, fighting all the emotion that it brings because I know that if I hadn't found running, I might not be here.

So, long story...but running saved my life.  As did a few, well, many people on my running team.  A good friend of mine said it best, "I've never seen you so happy as when you are running."  Yup.  That is it exactly.

But, I'm a work in progress, and even though I know that I want to get up and go log some miles, there are days that I just can't do it.  Race days and work days definitely get me out of bed, but training days sometimes just don't.  I wish they did, as I know I could be stronger and faster.

Maybe someday.

I'm just happy to still be here.  I was afraid for a few years that I wouldn't be.  And I am so thankful for those around me and beside me that make sure I hear what I need to hear to stay here every day.  Because some days are much harder than others.

Running gives me something to get out of bed for when I feel all hope is lost.  It gives me relationships with people with whom I have things in common.  And it gives me the ability to set goals that are individual and challenging, yet I know I can achieve.

So now it is time to go to bed.  Because 26.2 and a bridge await me in a few hours, and I think I've cried enough writing this that I need to start pounding fluids so that I'm not dehydrated tomorrow.

Thank you for listening.  I'm sure I'll massively edit this in the next few days, but for now, this is what I'm feeling.

And thank you, Joe, for those words in November.  I did you proud.

Life is Good.  Life is better when you have a purpose to be a part of it.

We'll do the totals later....

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EDIT:

Two things...

1.  The first time I went across that bridge was the day we did the small memorial for Robin Williams in my old neighborhood.  As you know, he suffered from depression and committed suicide.  It was also the morning that I found out my best friend was diagnosed with cancer.  After the memorial, I just started running.  I ran through the Presidio and after a few miles, my only choice was the bridge.  So, angry as hell at the world, I ran across it, and back.  It was the first time I went over 10 miles.

2.  Today as I was running across the bridge, my timing was just perfect to see a man drop to one knee and propose, right at the middle.  It was foggy, cold, wet and miserable.  The wind was strong and made me shiver and cramp.  But the love that these two had for each other brought the sun out and the entire bridge cheered.  I stopped for a while to take pics, and I hope I can find them online to send the pics to them.

So now every time I cross that bridge, I will have a very good memory of the love shared between two people, even in the bleakest of circumstances.

I don't hate that bridge so much anymore...