A Day with Depression
On October 20, 2013, I decided to make my third attempt at running the challenging fifty kilometer (thirty-two mile) trail race known as Bimbler’s Bluff in Guilford and Madison. The prior two attempts ended in sprained right ankles, although I managed to finish the race two years ago. Why did I decide to run again in 2013? Linda, my Fiancé, asked me. I wasn’t sure. I told myself that I had nothing to prove. I felt that, after having dropped out of the race last year at mile four, I remained faithful to my God believing he was testing my resolve. My failure in the race last year was a test and I passed. Now I felt that I was being called to run the race again. It dawned on me the morning of the race why I was really running. After my bad experiences in Bimbler’s Bluff #1 and Bimbler’s Bluff #2, fear dominated my thoughts on trail-running. Fear of injury on the windy, rocky terrain typical of any trail. Trails are meant to be hiked or walked not run. Fear is a calling-card of depression. If I give in to fear then depression wins. If depression wins then I lose. That’s how life with depression works. Fear, sadness, irritability and numbness want to take over our lives. The trick is to find a way not to let that happen. I sent a text message to Linda on the morning of the race. I decided to run and I knew why. To prepare for the race I performed ankle-strengthening exercises, and devised a strategy to run the trail at a slower, more deliberate pace to reduce the tripping and joint-twisting hazards. I decided to respect the Bimbler’s Bluff trail but not fear it.
So I ran. While I ran I was conscious of my foot strikes, each one of the roughly forty thousand taken during this race. I met Amy around mile six…really I have no idea at what point of the race I met her. She was one of the six runners that got lost around mile twelve…again don’t really know what mile we got lost. We were all frustrated. After thirty minutes we finally found our way back on the Bimbler’s Bluff trail. For Amy, anger took the place of frustration. She wanted to be at the hospital with her dad who was recovering from double-bypass heart surgery. Amy’s dad has always been an advocate of physical fitness, being fit himself, so he encouraged her to run Bimbler’s Bluff. She was going to drop out of the race. Amy waded through a swamp of emotions – anger, despair, regret. I knew what to do. I suggested that Amy continue on to the next aid station then decide. I didn’t demand that Amy finish the race or “get in her face.” That’s not where she was at this moment. That would not have helped. That would not have respected Amy as a person. I knew, being an endurance runner, that Amy would have regretted not finishing the race without a good reason. I offered to run with her the rest of the way. She waited. I ran ahead. To my surprise, I saw Amy coming into sight. Amy caught up to me. She shared how after sitting down through a good cry she picked herself up and put one foot in front of the other, not back to the last aid station, but rather forward towards the finish line. As we ran together, Amy confided how there were signs of depression growing up. She gave her parents a “run for their money.” From time to time the depression, or something like it, reappears. She believes depression may have contributed to her emotional reaction to getting lost on the trail. If so, the gifts of depression also contributed to Amy’s resiliency and discipline to continue on in the race. Yes, depression has an upside too.
I proved to be a great asset for Amy. Amy proved to be a great asset for me too. Amy and I continued on. In any endurance event, be it in life or on a trail, there come times when we simply can’t see a way forward. During these times, we may act like a cat chasing our tail, quit or just make other people miserable. It is important for us to find a way forward. That is the essence of truly living. That is quality of life.
After seven-and-one-half hours on the trail, Amy and I finished the race, although she “kicked it in gear” and finished ahead of me. Amy hugged me as I crossed the finish line. She didn’t quit. It that way she won.
I did have something to prove. My role, and everyone else’s too, is to be kind to my fellow man (or woman) by displaying compassion and offering a way out. I also had to prove that fear is not my master.
So went a day with depression. I won today too. Tomorrow will be another day.
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