An article was published on nbcnews.com this week saying that blogs are making a comeback. I don't know if that's true because the article was behind a paywall, but I'm here for it.
Let's recap. I'm Meredith. I ran my first marathon in 2001 at the age of 23. I ran my last marathon in 2019. And since 2019 I haven't done much of anything except lose my mind. Seriously. Let's just jump right into it.
I recently left my job to heal my failing mental health. I haven't been well in about a year and a half and everything fell apart this summer when I had a bad reaction to one of my meds and had to come off all my meds cold turkey. I then received a new diagnosis and thankfully I have been responding well to new meds. So what does this have to do with running? I can't get through a run without a panic attack. I can barely get out the door for a workout without severe anxiety. I am frozen in fear.
Last Sunday I toed the line for a 10 mile race. This was a race I signed up for just a few days before because I had a good 6 miler on the treadmill the previous weekend. I had a terrible 3+ mile run on Friday and completely panicked throughout Saturday about the race. I barely slept four hours the night before trying to think of ways to get out of the race. Regardless I still got up, got ready, and went to the race. But as soon as the race started I panicked. The first mile lies. It always does. I was believing the lies. Nearly a half mile in I sent the husband a text saying I couldn't do it. He replied how he always does, "settle in". I never did settle in. I panicked the whole way through. I never got into a groove. I walked and walked and walked. I was so embarrassed - mortified that this is the runner I am now. I finished the race, got my medal, picked up some food, and cried all the way back to my car.
I wish that were the end of it. Every day this week I've struggled - not only to start the run but to get through the run without having a panic attack. Tuesday I did a 3 mile run where, like every run in the past year, started with THE text to my husband. Then I freaked out about the pace, or lack thereof. Next I panicked at the turnaround knowing I was only half way done. There was one more freak out in the tiniest hill you've ever seen when I thought I was going to die. Thursday I went straight from seeing my psychiatrist to a local park where again I started with the panic text, and continued to freak out for the 1.85 files it took to complete the first loop. I stopped and came home. Later I went to the gym where I got on the air runner (yuck) where I tried the run again. I started with a 5 minute walk to calm myself, then did 9:30 to a 30 second walk, panicked at 24 minutes, walked for a half mile, and somehow got my shit together to run a mile and a quarter straight without stopping. Finally, this morning I had a long run on the schedule. In my head, I know I just completed 10 miles and this would be over 20 minutes shorter so what's the big deal? The boy, who is now a teenager, had 5 friends spend the night which had me all worked up all day and night. Middle school might be the death of me; I worry about the kid all the time. And in addition to that we were dog sitting for a dog that is so old and fragile it could die at any minute. So, this run isn't going to happen. I've been sick to my stomach all day and so, so tired.
My dad says, "just run" and once upon a time I would have said and could have done the same thing. Now, I don't know. In my head I still like to run; I still want to run; I know there is still potential. In reality, I'm stuck in hell.
