When my doctor first told me last summer that I had anxiety, I didn't believe him. I didn't feel anxious and I sure as hell didn't have anything to be anxious about. I kept brushing off the symptoms (heart palpitations, a persistent choking sensation in my throat, sleepless nights) looking for some magic pill that would make it all go away. It wasn't until I landed in the ER one night with a full blown panic attack that I decided to take the doctor's diagnosis seriously.

"Get rid of stress," she said. I learned how to relax and breathe through stressful situations.

"Make sure to get enough exercise," she said. I ran a marathon and took up yoga.

"Eat well and drink plenty of water," she said. I swore off fast food and kept my diet as clean as possible. Not quite organic, think natural.

"Find something you enjoy to make you happy," she said. I quit my job and decided to go to graduate school.

I followed the doctor's orders under the assumption that what was going on inside my brain was directly related to the things going on around me, in other words, situational. If I could only change everything around me, I would start to get better.

But what I didn't expect was to do all these things and feel worse as a result. It never occurred to me that I might have something deeper going on. I started missing work and used up all my vacation and sick time for the year before the end of April. I stayed in bed all day with the TV on as white noise, I didn't even hear it. I completely lost interest in anything and everything I used to find enjoyable. I cried constantly and for no reason and isolated myself from friends and family. Somewhere in the midst of all this, the Boy Toy hit the road, I'm not sure exactly when.

After about 6 weeks of being unable to function normally, my mom sent me to see a therapist. Through several sessions with him, I've begun to realize that I'm fighting a much bigger beast than I ever expected. He agreed with my doctor's original diagnosis, but that anxiety is only part of the problem. He told me I've probably had a mild form of depression for many many years but because it's gone untreated for so long, I've grown to assume depression as part of my personality, not recognizing it as a legitimate disease and the toll it's taken on my life.

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These last few weeks or months is something he called a "major depressive episode", like layers of an onion, the anxiety revealing itself last year as yet another symptom of a much larger issue. It's not situational, it's medical. If I had cancer or diabetes, you wouldn't tell me to "cheer up and get over it" or to stop having cancer or being diabetic. Like any other disease, the symptoms are real. The pain is deep. The healing is long. But there is healing.

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I have an appointment with a psychiatrist next week to (hopefully) get a better idea of what kind of depression I have so he can start to treat it with the right combination of cognitive talk therapy and medications. If you (or anyone you know) think you may have depression, please seek medical help. I'm learning that there is hope after all.

Back on track

Having finally made the decision to quit my job, the choking sensation I usually have at the bottom of my throat has finally started to loosen. Now, I just have to actually go through with handing over my resignation letter to my boss, which I will do on May 16th. I'm pretty nervous about that but I just have to keep reminding myself that I'm doing the right thing. It will be ok.

In other news, I actually went for a run last night. You heard correctly. I actually started out by going to the gym and had to dust off my gym card because it's been months since I've been there. My friend behind the counter greeted me like the Prodigal Son when I walked through the door. Yeah, yeah... I did some squats and lunges; worked my upper body and shoulders a little bit. I kept peeking over at the people on the treadmills wondering what the heck my problem was. Why couldn't I just get out there and run already?

I decided to run around my neighborhood when I got home rather than get on the treadmill because it was so gorgeous outside. It would've been a crime to run on a treadmill! I only managed 2.2 miles and I was sucking wind the entire time, but it didn't feel all bad.

It's so hard to get back in shape and so so so so easy to get out of it. Just like losing weight is so hard and gaining it is so so so so easy. I have a long road ahead but I think if I take some time away from work and focus on myself physically (keeping that marathon in October in the back of my mind), my mental well being won't be far behind.

End of an Era

For better or for worse, the time has come. That's right, I'm putting in my resignation at my job. As risky and stupid as it may be, I do not have another job lined up. While this leaves an already severely anxious person (me) with more anxiety than she needs, it is time. I have some savings I can live off of for a few months but after that, who knows.

I made the decision a few weeks ago after I'd been sent home after yet another mental break down in my bosses office. She clearly has no idea what to do with me. Even on meds, my anxiety from my work has become unmanageable so I feel it's time for me to take some time off and get my friggin head together before I end up in a padded room somewhere.

I'm pretty sure my backing out of The Pig is symptomatic of all this going on at work. My doctor agrees that physical activity would be so beneficial for me but I just can't seem to get it together. I've completely lost all motivation to do pretty much anything active and can see the damage it's doing to my waistline. But do I do anything about it? Nope.

I have a case of the Lazy's

I've dropped out of The Pig. And I pretty much feel like a big fat loser about it. Unfortunately, I've not been able to hang on to what little mojo I had after The Columbus Distance Classic and have fallen pretty far off the wagon. I attribute it to several things...

• I'm burned out. I put so much energy and time into training for the marathon last year and I still don't feel like I've been able to recapture that spark.
• my job is sucking my will to live. Seriously, even with the fantastic weather we've been having here, I go straight home after work and resume my position on the couch.
• turns out the chest pain and heart palpitations I was having last year were anxiety after all. My doctor has prescribed some anti-anxiety medication which I was pretty hesitant to take, but whatever works, right? Problem is, I've lost a lot of motivation to do pretty much anything. She's still trying to find the right meds for me, so far this is the second one I've tried. Fun.
• been spending more and more time with the BT.

So there you have it. I'm a big fat failure at running. I've decided to cut myself some slack and focus on overall fitness and health, still trying to run twice a week. Hopefully, I'll resume my love affair with running soon.

When Pigs Fly

I've been trying to gear myself up for The Pig but I've just felt soooooo lllllaaaazzzzzzzyyyyy this week. We've had gorgeous weather here all week and I've managed to run a whopping THREE miles since the half marathon. I have gone to yoga twice but that doesn't really help my mileage totals. Now does it?!?! My good friend S and I are planning a girls weekend in Cincinnati for the race away from her dude and my Boy Toy. However, I have a feeling most of our conversations will be about the boys in our lives.

If you need a laugh check out my race photos from Saturday. My BIB # is 788. They are HILARIOUS. I don't think I could look more pissed off in all of them if I tried. I need to practice smiling while I run. Clearly.

Capital City Half Marathon

Having run this race as my first half marathon exactly one year ago, I knew what to expect of the challenges of the course and of the possible weather conditions. But clearly, I train on very very flat terrian. This is known as being a relitively flat course so why did I feel like I was running uphill the entire way?

It was a chilly 40F at the start and overcast - perfect racing conditions for me. I was well rested and carbed up so I knew I had a chance at meeting my time goal of 2:15 which would give me a PR by 14 minutes. We lined up according to pace per mile, me with the 10:00 group and my dad with the 11:00 group. We were 3,500 strong and pressed shoulder to shoulder. I prepared myself for a slow first mile so you can imagine my surprise when I clocked a 9:54. 10:15 was my goal. Pull back, I thought to myself, don't go out too fast.

The first waterstop was a mess, almost like the poor volunteers weren't quite ready for us yet. I decided to skip it. The next few miles passed in a blur while the crowd thinned out and we found our rhythm.

Mile 2: 9:30
Mile 3: 9:22
Mile 4: 9:26

At mile 5 I took my first gel and inhaled as much water as I could without choking or stopping. I knew it was early in the race but I thought if I could hold on to that pace, I would shatter my time goal.

Mile 5: 9:48
Mile 6: 9:44

At mile six, we started the long stretch up High Street and the entire thing felt like I was running in a wind tunnel. I swore and cursed the sky. Wind bites. But I decided no amount of wind was going to stop me. I made the wind my bitch and kept plugging away.

Mile 7 & 8: 20:51 (forgot to hit the lap button)

More uphill, more wind. more swearing. Somewhere around here I had to stop and walk for a minute and catch my breath. My heart rate had gotten too high and I needed to regroup.

Mile 9: 9:49
Mile 10: 10:42

Porta potty stop and a quick walk break at mile 10. Only 5k to go. People around me were talking about a 2:10 finish time. I knew I just had to hang on and that 2:10 would be mine. I wanted 2:10 more than I wanted a 2:15. Time to kick it into high gear.

Mile 11: 10:27
Mile 12: 9:22
Mile 13: 8:56!!!!

Finish: 2:10:42

I finished strong and gave hi-fives to little kids in the final stretch. I crossed the finish line knowing I'd given it everything I had and was completely spent. I sat down on a curb with a banana and waited until I was sure I wasn't going to throw up before I went back to the finish line to cheer my dad to his PR of 2:23.

When I ran this same race last year, the main goal was to finish. 13.1 miles was a distance I'd never covered before so no matter what I would be happy at the end. This year, I've done the distance (and then some) so it was all about the time. I woke up Saturday morning unsure if I would be able to hold a 10:15 pace for the entire race and ended up really surprising myself with what I was able to do out there. I know there are things I still need to work on (hills and endurance) but running a 2:10 is a 19 minute improvement in 1 year. Who knows what I'll be able to do one year from now!

Bikram

The top of my foot has been hurting for the last week. It's on the top so I'm worried it's a bone issue rather than a muscle issue, i.e. stress fracture. Could just be a bruise but it's not in my nature to think optimistically. Nevertheless, I've taken the last three days off from running to let it heal as much as possible. The half marathon is a week from Saturday and if I can be really careful with it until then, I think I will still be able to run it and run it well. That puts a huge damper on the Pig though but lets not get ahead of ourselves.

Tonight, instead of running on my tender foot, I went to my Bikram yoga class and sweated my tush off. I love love Love this class and every time I go, I wonder why I don't go more often and then I remember that it's sort of expensive and running is not. But seriously guys, I've mentioned before how awesome this class is so if you are ever looking for something new to try, give it a go. You'll feel relaxed and rejuvenated by the end in a way you might not have expected.