My Favorite Photo (Trigger Warning)

Let me be up front about this...I don't really know if I want to be writing this post. It's been swimming around in my head for ages and I know it's a topic that could create hope or change or empowerment for some people, so I should post it.

But it's also really private. Not to those who have known me a long time, not really; but it's not something I talk about much even with them. And while I do share a lot of my life here on the blog, there are some parts that I try not to delve into.

Still, I feel like sometimes being brave means putting things out there, and I've been wanting to put this out there for months. So here it is.

This is my favorite running photo.

It was taken after the Space Coast Marathon as I sat, recovering and crying a little, covered in glory and friends and flowers, sporting my brand new medal. Victorious.

The words on my arms are words from my sister, who wrote me a heart-wrenching good luck card, and Matt, whose usual blunt encouragement leaves no room for disagreement.

And those words, scrawled on my arms before I set off to do something totally life-affirming, something that epitomizes strength and determination, are written over dozens of self-inflicted scars.

You can barely tell in the photo. Most people don't really notice them in person, or if they notice, they have the tact not to ask about them.

But I see them. When I look at this photo, my eyes zero in on this strange meeting of my greatest time of weakness and my greatest moment of strength.

When I look at this photo, I see what my life was and what it has become. I am so grateful; I am humbled; I am in awe. I created those scars during a time in my life when I never imagined I could ever have the strength to turn my pain into something worthwhile. And here they are, obscured by words that prove the simple truth that, yes, I was able to do just that.

I don't know where my running will continue to take me, but I do know that it has already impacted my life in so many ways, and this picture is just one example of how completely I have changed...in part thanks to this sport and all it has given me. This March was my 10th anniversary of being..."clean", I guess you'd say. Some days are harder than others, and on those days, I run.

I know running has changed many of my runner-friends' lives for the better. Do you have a story to share?

ABK

A Run Like That

I don't know what got into me today, but I wasn't feeling right. It started after classes had ended, when my planning period began. I sat down to get some grading done and realized it's only Monday.

We had our first volleyball tryout today, which was really fun...but by the time I got home I was feeling a bit melancholy. It took me longer than I planned to get going for my short recovery run tonight; by the time I got outside, the sun was well below the horizon.

I spent a little time watching that lone heron.

The moon was a perfect silver sliver overhead; the trees burned orange with the last rays of the sun. As it grew darker, frogs crossed my path in droves. The night had cooled. I was the only one on the course.

At one point, I closed my eyes and ran with my arms outstretched.

I used the first mile to warm up, to feel a little alive, to shake off whatever was weighing me down.

At the end, I flew. I pushed my last mile into sub-9s and held it there. I felt my mind and body wake up and come alive...I breathed deeply, felt my lungs open, felt the blood rushing through my body. I felt weightless and free.

Sometimes we just need a run like that.

When's the last time you ran just for the love of it?

ABK

A Daring Heart

I do not have a daring heart. I am not naturally a risk-taker, adventure-seeker, or new-thing-trier. My first reaction is usually to say "no" to anything that requires any kind of courage.

If someone wants me to try something scary, they need to introduce the idea slowly, and preferably with a bribe. It took Matt 8 months to get me to try paddling, and the night before my first paddle I literally threw a tantrum, had a panic attack, and cried at the mere thought of getting on a paddleboard.

My first time ever paddleboarding.

The next morning, on the board itself, I cried with sheer terror...But the tears were cathartic, in a way. They broke down a barrier. Anyone who reads my blog now knows that we paddle weekly, and I even had my first (accidental) night paddle this last Friday.

For how much I hate water, it seems to be a major gateway to learning to have courage. Here I am snorkeling in the Bahamas.

If I can be successfully led into something that terrifies me, I'll usually love it. The person behind most of these new experiences is Matt, and for that I'm forever grateful. He was the one who encouraged me when I first wanted to learn to run, and I think becoming a runner has had everything to do with my willingness to, slowly but eventually, face what scares me.

My first-ever solo race, and the first time I ran a sub30 5k.

Looking back, I realize now that I've conquered a lot of my fears. Maybe I'm teaching my heart to be more daring, and with each new conquest and victory comes a little more bravery.

Matt was the one who prompted me to take my Birthright trip to Israel before I aged out of the program. (Come to think of it, he was also behind getting me to study abroad.) Here I am with my cohort excavating underground ruins.

Running has something to do with it too, I think. After all, every time I set a foot over the starting line of a race, I'm facing that evil little voice in my head that tells me I'll never be a runner. It was right for a long time, but it hasn't been right in years.

It may not seem as scary as traveling the world, but choosing to go to grad school was a major leap of faith...And for an introvert like me, teaching takes courage every day.

Running builds confidence like few other sports can. It forces me to look doubt in the eye and steamroll right over it. It has taught me that my mind is strong and that my body can accomplish great things.

Ziplining in the rainforests of Panama.

The greatest thing about conquering fear and teaching my heart to be more daring is that it's keeping me active. When we live in fear - of ourselves, what others will think, of the world at large, whatever - we tend to hide in safe spaces. Safe spaces rarely get us moving.

Hiking up Grandfather Mountain in North Carolina.

Climbing rock faces in Leo Carillo, California.

My initial response may still be "no", but at least now I know that "no" is often a lie. Slowly, "no" is becoming "maybe." I hope in the future, my first response to risks and adventures is a resounding and confident "YES!"

Learning to be daring has taught me that I'm not made of glass, that life can be bigger and more enjoyable than I'd ever thought possible, and that if you fake it 'til you feel it, eventually daring will come.

What's the biggest risk you've ever taken?
Are you a naturally daring person?
What has running given you the confidence to do?

ABK

An Exceptionally Important Post

This post isn't about running...or it is, but not directly.

This week is Suicide Prevention Week. I've known so many people affected by suicide and depression - some of my favorite people, relatives, closest friends, myself - and no time is better than now to remind everyone that you're valuable and deserve to be here.

I'm not going to go deep into my own story. I don't know yet if I'm ready to air that dirty laundry. But I did battle depression for years, and sometimes I still fight with its sneaky undertow.

Running has made a huge difference in my life and has kept my depression at bay longer than it ever has been. It has helped to ease my anxiety, increase my self-worth, and balance my moods. I've talked a little about it here.

As a teacher, I see students struggling with depression to the point that it leads to self-harm, and that too is very familiar to me. It breaks my heart to see bright, funny, witty, intelligent, critical, and insightful young people battling internally.

The Bloggess has posted an excellent blog entry today full of helpful links and hotlines for anyone needing help and support. Remember that you are not alone; believe it or not, there are people out there who understand your pain and want to help you transcend it.

If you or anyone you know is struggling, please click her post.

Also, To Write Love on Her Arms, an organization geared towards raising awareness and support for teens dealing with depression, is working to remind us all about why we are irreplaceable. It's a great way to remind yourself that you have an impact and make a difference.

They're a great organization! If you are a teen - or know and love a teen - it's worth looking into.

 Another helpful site, especially this week, is PostSecret.

Remember that darkness passes. In the meantime, there are people out there who can help. Don't let depression silence you.

ABK

The Best Thing

My classroom is where I proudly display my medals. While my bibs are "stored" in a pile on my bedside table, I make sure to hang my medals near my "about me" poster:

It's March and kids are still noticing this for the first time. They're not very observant.

This is a good storage place because it keeps me motivated. But today the best thing happened, and I realized that all my talk about running and displaying my running swag is having a deeper impact than I could have ever guessed.

Last week the kids wrote memoirs about a single life-changing event. I wrote one as an example and shared it. Of course, it was about running. (I'll post it here when I remember to bring it home.)

Today, three girls stayed after class. I assumed they had questions about their upcoming research paper. But no! I was surprised to learn their question was much more meaningful.

"We all have the same question. How did you get into running? We want to start."

I could not keep the grin off my face, and I'm pretty sure I clapped/squealed a little. I told them that I was driven to run by a desperation to have some freedom during grad school, that at first I hated it, but that sticking with it eventually brought on the best kind of addiction. I gave them some simple interval advice, and then had to send them off to their next class.

I hope if they have more questions, they come to me. I'd be happy to help, given the time. More than anything, this really made my day today. Sometimes, they actually listen, and they really can be full of surprises.

ABK

PS: I have stepped into the 21st century and have finally gotten an iPhone! This means running with Nike+ GPS instead of the shoe chip, taking pictures on the run, and having the added safety of actually having a phone on me while I'm running alone. So exciting!

Addiction and Cure

Author's Note: This blog entry discusses running as an addiction that affects my personality, and as a cure for my depression. In discussing addiction and depression, I in no way wish to offend anyone. This is about my experience, my struggle, and my journey. Thanks for reading.

Addiction is a worrisome word most of the time. It calls to mind illicit activities, an inability to control one's urges, and a sense of impending doom as destructive habits go unchecked. Veteran runners will tell you about the runner's high without any sense of irony or concern. Non-runners will roll their eyes, because surely this is just something runners talk about; it likely doesn't exist and is just a figment of a deluded mind.

But the runner's high is real, caused by endorphins and hormones released during exercise; and if the high is real, then it makes sense that - like other things that get you high - running can be addicting.

I have written before about becoming a total nightmare on days I don't run.  This still holds true for the most part, although since increasing my mileage and consistently running in the morning, I find that rest days aren't as difficult to deal with. My body craves rest, and I don't really mind taking those days off anymore. However, I am noticing different side-effects of running consistently.

For example, this week we ran Saturday, Sunday, and Monday. We took Tuesday off. We were supposed to run Wednesday, but you know what they say about "the best laid plans". I didn't feel guilty about taking Tuesday and Wednesday off, but my mood underwent the kind of subtle and horrific change that can only be attributed to not getting a fix when your body is screaming for one.

I was lethargic all day. I was irritable with my students. I came home after work and wanted to curl up into a ball and sleep for a year. I was despondent; I clung to M and barely held back tears that, if pressed, I could not have explained the cause for.

Here's the thing. I've dealt with depression. I don't mean the kind of depression where you're kind of sad but a good day with friends pulls you out of it. I'm talking consistent, unshakeable, deep depression. The kind that leads down dark roads paved with unhealthy habits and addictions, concerned parents, baffled friends, helpless therapists, medications that prove useless, etc. I've read some interesting articles about running and depression, specifically that running can "cure" depression, but that those who choose this route may need to rack up 40+ miles a week in order to stave off the monster.

Anyway, on days I don't run, that deep, gnawing, unfathomable depression that has no immediate cause (and therefore no immediate solution) threatens to wake from its hibernation. It's barely a shadow of what I've dealt with in the past, but...well, slippery slopes, and all that.

So yes, running is an addiction for me. It's one that keeps me sane. On the days I think I'm too tired to run, I sleep an extra two hours but then struggle through a day filled with fatigue and short fuses. My students, who often bring me joy, irk me. They notice it, too, because kids are observant, and because they're tactless, they ask, "Are you getting sick? Are you tired? Are you okay? You look sick. You look tired."

On the days I force myself out of bed, I lose two hours of sleep but go to work feeling refreshed and buoyant. The energy lasts all day.

Off-days that are planned ahead are much easier to deal with, but the days that sneak up on us because of circumstances outside our control never turn out to be good days.

Running has become a wonderful drug for me, but I have to worry, because like any addiction, there are negative side-effects. This week I've had some tenderness in my ankles and knees; what if I injure myself and have to take time off? What if I (like many runners before me) ignore the signs that I need to cut back a bit? I could cross train at the gym on the rowing machine, the elliptical, the bike, in the pool...but I know that part of the high I get from running is from running. I may still be getting exercise in, but nothing affects me like running does.

This was meant to be a lighthearted post, and I think it got away from me. But I've been reflecting on the past ten months (oh my gosh, has it been that long since I made this resolution?!), and my relationship with running has changed and changed again. It's amazing how important it's become to me, and I feel a sense of complacent pride when I think down the road five, ten, fifteen years and know I will still be running.

When I think back to high school, when I half-heartedly walked the mile run in close to 20 minutes and was struggling with a beast of a depressive nature, I can hardly believe the lifestyle change I've somehow managed to make. It used to look impossible; it was a mountain I'd never conquer. But today I can credit my health, my happiness, my solid relationships, and my clear head to running. It's truly been a miracle drug.

ABK