Manic Depression

I forgot how wonderful it is to run. Every time I get back into running (always far too late into the season) I have the same experience. The past 5-6 years though this has involved getting into some semblance of shape for the City 2 Surf in Sydney, or Melbourne Marathon.

I'm excited to be doing my first fun run with my sister ever next month. I hope we can run together a fair distance, alas it is 10km and should be crowded. I'm looking forward to the City 2 Surf this year. It is probably the funnest run going, and Gzergorz and Shona always make it funnerer.

I'm even looking forward to the 21km half marathon for Melbourne Marathon in October. I hope I have the same massive sensory de-stimulation as last year, that felt surprisingly cleansing, plus the race itself is great, long. Very long. But very great.

But the 800m is really fucking with my mind. I've been making light of it on facebook for the past month or so, but honestly it plagues me. I feel alone in a way I have never felt before and have never felt so alone.

Nobody understands me, and I probably have myself to blame.

But as it draws inevitably nearer, it has taken a manic deppressive place in my mind.

One moment I am confident I'm fast enough, I'll run it through steadily accelerating over the last 100-50m and cross that line with seconds to spare. I bask in the imagined glory of the moment, contemplating briefly that my biggest problem at that point will be inhaling enough oxygen to stay conscious.

This thought in turn makes me feel nauseous, then inevitably I imagine the feeling of my legs going limp too soon, before the 200m to go mark, a sudden need to exhale pushing spittle out my mouth and my chest collapsing. No matter how fast I am I can never be fast enough. I'm just being left behind and my muscles, my lungs everything is failing.

I find this prospect so unpleasant, so physically, emotionally and mentally unpleasant I want to go sit down. But when I sit down my thoughts inevitably build on one another. My best option is to listen to some music and do some exercise to get me pumped up and feeling fit and confident again. Street Sweeper Social Club, RATM, One Day as a Lion, Cypress Hill, FNM all work temporarily.

I will be reinvigorated with confidence, I will soar and cut through the air. I still have plenty of time, I'm doing so well...

It doesn't last, my self-talk pulls me back down. The only relief I really get is from training.

While I run it is all about the run, that run, that moment. The only problem is, that running an 800m feels terrible. But my mind switches to that wonderful coach inside my head 'run up this hill you fucking pussy!' and 'There's a rope pulling you, you weak cunt!' and when I run through the particularly moist goal square 'TRACTION TRACTION TRACTION!!!'

In conclusion, even if I have created this lonely nightmare for myself, it is something I feel is worth triumphing over, I feel it is even worth being trampled underfoot over, just to experience the constant waves of self-doubt and self-belief and experience such a high-stress situation. To have something important and uncertain in your life and to try and fight for it.

If I can conquer the 800m it will be behind me forever. If I fail I will survive, somewhat. I guess I can't leave it behind if I fail, but I simply need to acknowledge that for all the trashtalking hyperbole, I was serious when I started writing and training about the 800m and I need to recapture that.