Now it was May 2001 and I was in great shape, or so I thought. I had trained for four months in the weight room and spent many hours in the pool, on the stationary bike and on the treadmill. Spring had sprung in Chicago and it was time to move out of the gym and take my act to the outdoors.
On a perfect Saturday morning I warmed up, laced up my shoes, said a prayer and went out for a run. During winter training, I was up to one continous hour on the treadmill and felt great. This day, I made it two blocks and almost had a heart attack. The stark reality is that running on a treadmill is no subsitute for road training because on the treadmill the belt moves with you, giving a false sense of achievement.
I was devastated. Four months of foundation work and I had to start over from scratch. Looking back on it, I showed resilience and good judgement because I just kept at it until I demonstrated progress, but it was mental torture. Within a month I was up to three miles and satisfied.
The biggest lesson I learned was that you can't recreate the past. Prior to diagnosis, I ran 7:30 miles in competition. After diagnosis, treatment and weight gain I ran 10:30 miles, but I was much more relaxed and confident in the act of running. For the first time it seemed like fun. It was also relaxing, more like a hobby than work.
I wasn't trying to fit a mold or be accepted by a group of faceless strangers while searching for some elusive Promised Land. I was just running because it was good for me and it felt good.
Week by week throughout May, my distances got longer and more pleasurable. I took pride in demonstrating the ability to repeat a performance, to show consistency and reliability.
Many studies and my psychiatrist's advice say that moderate to vigorous aerobic exercise is better than any anti-depressant medication, and this period proved that theory true. The hardest part was not over-doing it, trying to run faster or beyond realistic distance limits. It took faith and confidence in my new found judgement to know that enough was enough for one day and that there would always be a tomorrow. Regardless, I enjoyed the growth and maturity showed with my daily workouts, sonsidering them as essential as medicine and psychoanalysis, and also enjoyed feeeling good in a way I never imagined was possible.
Maybe it was a matter of over-optimism or searching once again for that elusive goal that would challenge me to push past my limits, but I wanted something big for myself, something beyond anything I had accomplished before.
On a perfect Saturday morning I warmed up, laced up my shoes, said a prayer and went out for a run. During winter training, I was up to one continous hour on the treadmill and felt great. This day, I made it two blocks and almost had a heart attack. The stark reality is that running on a treadmill is no subsitute for road training because on the treadmill the belt moves with you, giving a false sense of achievement.
I was devastated. Four months of foundation work and I had to start over from scratch. Looking back on it, I showed resilience and good judgement because I just kept at it until I demonstrated progress, but it was mental torture. Within a month I was up to three miles and satisfied.
The biggest lesson I learned was that you can't recreate the past. Prior to diagnosis, I ran 7:30 miles in competition. After diagnosis, treatment and weight gain I ran 10:30 miles, but I was much more relaxed and confident in the act of running. For the first time it seemed like fun. It was also relaxing, more like a hobby than work.
I wasn't trying to fit a mold or be accepted by a group of faceless strangers while searching for some elusive Promised Land. I was just running because it was good for me and it felt good.
Week by week throughout May, my distances got longer and more pleasurable. I took pride in demonstrating the ability to repeat a performance, to show consistency and reliability.
Many studies and my psychiatrist's advice say that moderate to vigorous aerobic exercise is better than any anti-depressant medication, and this period proved that theory true. The hardest part was not over-doing it, trying to run faster or beyond realistic distance limits. It took faith and confidence in my new found judgement to know that enough was enough for one day and that there would always be a tomorrow. Regardless, I enjoyed the growth and maturity showed with my daily workouts, sonsidering them as essential as medicine and psychoanalysis, and also enjoyed feeeling good in a way I never imagined was possible.
Maybe it was a matter of over-optimism or searching once again for that elusive goal that would challenge me to push past my limits, but I wanted something big for myself, something beyond anything I had accomplished before.
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