In November 2013, I made my last real attempt to finish a marathon. I trained. Hard. And then around mile 15 (maybe), I turned a corner where I saw that I would be running through a gauntlet of gingko trees. Normally, no worries, but I am allergic to the entire outdoors, and even though it wasn’t full on pollen season for these trees, they attacked my lungs in some way.
I have allergy and exercise induced asthma. Since high school, I have been able to control my exercise-induced asthma with swimming, meditating, and breathing exercises, but my allergy-induced asthma was a new and more aggressive development in my respiratory journey. So, I started to cry, which did not help my breathing, then I got overwhelmed and embarrassed, then I quit. I called my parents to come pick me up at mile 15 (maybe), and I was so devestated that I pretty much quit trying to run long distances, and eventually put myself into a shame cycle that resulted in my eventual loss of fitness and no real desire to return fully to it until last June. I dabbled, but never remained faithful to any kind of longterm fitness plan.
Last June, at my fattest, I weighed 293 pounds. I am 5’3″ tall. In general, I am not a fat-shaming individual, but I wasn’t comfortable in my own body in a way that I had never experienced before in my life. Had I been weight conscious? Yes. Had I tried to lose weight or get in better shape? Yes. Did I ever have problems tying my shoes before? No. Did I ever experince struggling to walk a mile before? No. I am well aware that part of my struggle with my health was brought on by extreme stress, depression, unhealthy eating, and having COVID four times in three years time. But, to me all of those things (except COVID) were a by product of quitting that marathon nearly a decade ago. Obviously, I am not silly enough to think that all of my problems with my health stem from that, but when I quit that marathon. I kind of quit on myself. And when I quit on myself, it affected nearly all facets of my life.
I would never tell someone else to lose weight, and I would never say that being fat is the worst thing a person can be, but, for me, last June was a time I don’t want to return to. I enjoy being active. I enjoy moving my body. I enjoy how exercise makes me feel. I don’t want to return to being so exhausted and depressed that I could barely remember to shower or do my dishes or fold my clothes. So, I decided to eat healthier, exercise more, and get myself back. From June until December I lost about 20 pounds on my own by exercising with a friend who was losing a lot of weight; I also kind of tried to mimic what I ate after what she was eating, because she was being so successful. Then in December, I decided I wanted to try to use an app to help with weightloss. Since starting that app, I’ve lost another 20 pounds. I would still like to lose about 60 more pounds, so I can trail run like a boss again.
One of the first things I did when I started losing weight last summer was sign up for the Muncie 70.3, because I had completed it in 2013 after another period in my life when I had lost weight (this was before quitting the marathon). I decided that would be my goal. And, in January, I started focused training for the event. I quickly realized two things: because of my lung capacity, running is really hard these days, and because training for a triathlon requires work in three sports, I was struggling to make time in my already overloaded schedule for quality workouts. I continued working hard until late March or early April, but then I had a triumvirate of circumstances that derailed me: my mother-in-law died, I got really sick again with some sort of respiratory illness, and I got selected for jury duty. All of these events caused me to get a little behind in everything, and what I ended up having to cut was my workouts.
I travelled to Minnesota to be with my wife for a few days after her mom died, and while I was up there, and on the 10 hour drive each way, I contemplated whether or not I could get back on track with my training, whether or not starting this triathlon and maybe not finishing would be healthy for me, and whether or not I could continue to sustain my work load while getting back on track. For me, everything (work, training, household chores, social events, church, and anything else) works together in a really delicate balance of mental health opportunities and challenges. I always have to consider what will push me back into depression or what will help me stay out of depression. I don’t know if everyone else has to do that or not, but if you do, I feel for you, because it really sucks to have life be controlled by the potential of falling back into a dark place that is difficult to escape. Being mentally healthy is a constant struggle for some of us.
I know—I can sense it in my soul, think it my mind, and feel it in my body— that if I start that race on July 12, and I don’t finish, that I will fall back into a serious depression. And, since I have been sober for a bit longer than 40 months now, depression isn’t something I want to invite into my life. I know that I will push myself to a point of pain, because I said I would do it, and I’ll be embarrassed if I don’t finish. I know that I will likely not finish within the time limit, so it would go into hte world as a DNF. I know if I have to see that in print, I will feel like I failed. And, I know at least one of you reading this would say something to me, like a DNF is better that Did Not Start. Well, for me it really isn’t at this point in my life. I know that someday I will do another 70.3 and maybe someday, maybe, I will even attempt a 120.6. But, not this July. This July 12, I will probably be hiking somewhere, having fun with friends.
Ultimately, I decided that I need to use the ten weeks of summer to create the life I want, one of getting up early to swim, walking/running, eating healthy, going for bike rides, reading good books, working, hiking, having social time, writing, planning next school year, vacationing with my wife, going to church on Sundays and taking a real Sabbath, and accomplishing some sort of rhythm that fills me up and makes me be my best.
Ultimately, I decided that I can’t afford to start a race that I may not finish. I can’t let myself down in that way at this point in my life, and I can’t push myself back into that shame cycle. I need to have exercise be a safe place that cleaves my mind, soul, and body in a way that doesn’t seem like work, but seemd like a release and comfort. I have experienced that before, so I know it’s possible.
Ultimately, I am choosing me. I am working hard to balance my social, emotional, spiritual, intellectual, physical, environmental, financial, occupational, and social wellness.
Ultimately, I am not giving up, but I am moving forward.
Reason Breeds Insanity 