Reigniting the Fire - Life is for Living

M 60 mins inc 20 mins Threshold @ 5:19mm (5:48mm), Easy/Moderate 30 mins (6:21mm) +6x10s hills
T Moderate 55 mins (6:03mm)
W 80 mins inc. 8x1k(200m), (1200m), 4X200(200), Easy 30 mins (6:47mm)
T Easy/Moderate 50 mins (6:10mm), Moderate 30 mins (6:00mm)
F 60 mins inc 20x30s Strides (6:07mm)
S 110 mins, inc 70 mins Moderate (6:05mm), 30 mins Threshold (5:22mm)
S Easy 70 mins (6:47mm)

Total  - 96 miles (6:09mm)
Total Training time - 9 hours, 50 minutes
Aerobic Efficiency - 930 beats per mile 

Weight - 143.13 lbs

Days sober - 126

Days since last Anti-Depressant medication - 8

Training is going well. In fact, really well. Quite possibly better than ever, judging by my sessions. This week was a cut back week, before two big weeks ahead of tapering for a marathon or ultra, I'm entered for that COVID-19 permitting I may or may not get to do! This week was also the first week that I have been completely off my medication. With the advice and support of my Doctor, I tapered down over a couple of weeks and took my last Sertraline tablet the day before my 40th birthday. I have suffered with quite a bit of withdrawal however, which has been tough but bearable. I suffer with insomnia at the best of times, but coming off the pills has certainly had an impact. Waking up in a cold sweat at 2:00am unable to go back to sleep crippled with stomach cramps normally reserved for a smackhead going cold turkey has been a regular occurrence. I have also had the brain zaps so often attributed to SSRI withdrawal. Lightening strikes in the brain that lead to a prolonged feelings of vertigo and nausea. I have had these frequently throughout the day and during training this past week which is a bit grim but running has still been going well despite these rather shitty side effects. I will get through it, I just have to ride it out.

As they say, Life begins at 40 and I mentioned in my last blog that I was ready to start living again. Life is for living. It sounds simple, but how can a concept so easily get lost? For over four and a half years I was living a 'half life'. There was of course joy in that time, pride in seeing my daughters growing up into wonderful, intelligent, independent and empathetic little humans. There was also sadness and grief. I have felt bad at how messed up the world seems to be at times, my Dad's declining health has been an ever present and all of this brings feelings that question the point of life. But that's what life is. It is beautiful, it is happy, it is painfully sad. It is magnificent, yet horrifically malevolent. Life is everything, it's all we really have.

The dwelling in one's own pit has been an all too frequent habitat. But the drugs helped moderate all that. I was neither experiencing the depths of the lows I should feel nor the highs to the extent that I know I could. Everything was moderated by the drugs. I don't want to suffer with depression, I don't want anyone to. It's a nasty ailment to have and I believe everyone sits on the spectrum somewhere and is susceptible to different degrees. Life is for living though, if we don't embrace it, what's the point?  As brutal a statement it is Life is a fatal disease, we are only here for a short and unknown finite amount of time. Life needs meaning, without it we are nothing. We may as well not be here. We need to have a purpose, we owe it to ourselves, our family, friends and communities to get after it. If we don't, nobody else will do it for us and all that will remain will be guilt, emptiness, and regret that we didn't pursue our dreams each and every day. 

Being a good man, father, husband, friend, runner and professionally successful are all things that matter to me. Perhaps the only things. They're things that are probably not dissimilar to the things most people reading this blog think of as important in their own lives. They're the things that give me (us) meaning, give us purpose. They are also the things I can directly influence. I can control to a large degree.  That to me says we all have the ability within ourselves, to chase our dreams, hell to excel our wildest dreams if we just start living and focusing on those things day after day. Doing the small bits that matter that add up and compound over time, to make our lives better individually and for those around us. It's a corny saying, but life is a journey. How eventful will yours be? How will I know I have been successful at chasing and finding my meaning? I probably never will, but I suspect that general contentment while experiencing the beauty and anger of life in all its glory will be a pretty good indicator.

Get after your dreams, life is for living.

Reigniting the Fire - Well and truly lit.

So, not the blog I was planning or hoping for. Last Sunday I put my racing shoes on for the first time in over a year. I had managed to find myself a marathon just 45 minutes from home. Training had gone brilliantly, I had transformed myself from a fat, alcohol dependent sedentary being twenty weeks ago into an athlete. 

I was as fit as I have ever been. I was hoping I would surprise myself with the race of my life. It didn't happen. As I stood on the start line, I could feel I had no hunger, no desire. No want. Maybe it was just pre-race stress and once underway, I would settle into my rhythm and all would be good. I knew within the first couple of miles that I just didn't want to be there. I started searching for excuses. There must be some? Maybe it was the mild cold I'd had two weeks before? Maybe it was the news that Dad had had a fall and was in hospital awaiting an emergency hip replacement? Maybe I just don't like racing anymore? I ploughed on regardless and with motivation to compete continuing to dwindle, I finally stepped off the course just under eleven miles in.

People were asking if I was ok. I was, I was fine I just didn't care! I didn't even feel bad about dropping out. I was numb.

I have struggled with my mental health for years. I am sure many athletes do. It's the drive, the hunger to be better than we were. The continual search for that dopamine hit and endorphin rush we strive for. We are addicts, obsessives and down right a bit fucked up for the most part. Or at least I am! 

I took the decision back in March 2016 that I needed some help for my mental health and went to see my GP. He prescribed me Sertraline, an SSRI. Within a couple of weeks I felt better. I was less anxious, I could cope with the stresses and strains of life much better and the world didn't feel like such a grey place. I felt a weight had been lifted. The clouds cleared, the pressure in my head dissipated and life was good. Except it wasn't. I continued to have the same issues, just the drugs masked the pain. The drugs dealt with the symptoms and not the underlying causes of my depression. Meanwhile my running was incredibly volatile. I had spells of great training, but shocking races. I made my only performance for England in October 2016 and I raced hard. I raced well considering the conditions. I was a distance outside of my PB with 2:25:46 but I gave it my all on the day and I felt proud at what I had achieved. My feeling was that if I never run for England again, at least I have run once for England. I could be proud. My family and friends were proud. Dad was still aware of what was going on and that his boy had done it! It was job done.

I continued to train hard but less consistently, I suffered a couple of major injuries meanwhile I wasn't taking care of the elephant in the room. I still had massive issues with food and to a pretty big extent alcohol. This continued until well into lockdown this year where I had pretty much turned my back on trying to achieve things in running. My drinking was terrible. I had numerous all night benders. I was a disgrace. Yet the medication meant I felt little guilt. I reached rock bottom and finally made the decision; it needed to stop. I was going to ruin my life, I was going to ruin the lives of my amazing wife, Hania and my two incredible daughters if I didn't stop. On 20th June I had my last drink. I have been sober since. My life has turned around and I don't miss alcohol. It has helped me focus on the process of living healthily and training with purpose. I got my love for life back. I even managed to delete myfitnesspal off my phone and stopped obsessing about every calorie as I built back to fitness. I ate plenty, making sure I was fuelling my training. I was happy. I felt life was in balance. Training was more fun than it had ever been, I had no immediate racing goals, just to be fit and healthy again.

Did I need my medication any more? I thought about whether I should come off them but was worried of the spiral it could lead me on, so I kept taking my dose. And why would I run the risk of breaking the hard work I was putting in?

Briefly, SSRIs work by increasing the level of serotonin by inhibiting reuptake in the nerve cells in the brain which can help with mood, emotion and sleep. In short they have a very numbing effect. And then on Monday this week it dawned on me. They made me numb. They made me fucking numb. I was a zombie. I was living but mainly in body. Not with the spirit I know I have. Not with the heart I have had in races before. I couldn't dig deep. I couldn't experience the depths, the highs, the lows, the elation that happens in life. Everything felt much the same. That is why I had nothing on the start line last week. It wasn't over training. It wasn't that I wasn't as fit as I thought I was. It was the drugs. I then thought back over the past four and a half years.... I have raced well twice one of which was in Toronto that I mention above. Interestingly, I forgot to take my tablet that day. And the other time, I don't remember but I would guess I forgot that day too. As many people will know I tend to do my main run of the day first thing in the morning and have not suffered with a lack of motivation at all in the past few months. I have bounced out of bed ready to get the training done. I would then take my sertraline after training. Naturally because of the time of races, I would tend to take them three-four hours before race time. Arguably this is when the meds will be most prevalent in the system. It all adds up! 

I have since spoken to my doctor and we have agreed that I need to taper off them, not least because my mental health is very good at the moment. I am not against anti-depressants at all, I believe they can and do save countless lives. It may be that I have to go back on antidepressants again in the future and that is fine but I will need to find an alternative to sertraline, one that doesn't make me so numb. 

This may or may not be a cure for my terrible performance of recent years, but I know that I want to try to manage my mental health naturally. Focusing on dealing with the ups and downs in life as they arise and with the love and support of my family, friends and running mates, I know I can do this. This is just the start. I turn 40 in a week's time, and don't they say Life begins at 40? I'm ready to start living again.