Experience

“But then I’ll go a few days and suddenly realize food hasn’t been stomping around in my brain incessantly. That the voices have been really quiet. And I’ll have renewed faith and joy that I’m on the right path.”

If you haven’t read this post by Amelia Boone, do yourself a favor and read it.

October 10th was World Mental Health day. October 11th was 1 year to the day that I qualified for the Olympic Trials. My mental health and my running are very tightly wound, and though I cannot say I always have a great headspace, working on that area is crucial for my training.

Let me explain.

In my late teens and early twenties, I went through a lot of growing pains. I detail this pretty in depth on this episode of the Cultra Podcast. The TL;DR is that I dealt with an eating disorder made worse by the toxic familial white supremacy religious cult I grew up in and it fucked with my head. I was not running at this time, except away in my head. I knew I needed to get out, and after a few painful years I finally broke free and moved to Ithaca.

Ithaca is where I began running, healed a big part of my relationship with myself, learned to love the person I was, learned to love and appreciate food and most importantly become confident in who I was. I cannot write that I am fully healed nor do I know what that looks like or means. As Amelia eloquently put in her post, weeks go by and I hear no voices, no second guesses about my food choices and I feel confident in where I am and what I am doing.

Other times, I feel less so and need to resort to every trick and individual in my foxhole to keep my head on straight. Most of my friends or mentors don’t even know this is what they’re helping me with, but they are and it’s enough to set me straight time and time again.

Mood follows action. If I act in the right way. If I eat what I know I need even if I feel less than stellar, the thoughts leave eventually and I get back to feeling on the inside the happy smiling woman I portray on the outside.

Experience. I’ve been there. I know what I feel and where it can lead. I also know the way out.

For me, the way out was and continues to be running.

First I ran to stop being angry. I ran to get away from the house I grew up in. The house that suffocated me. I ran to process what I lived through, what I put my body through. I ran to understand how I could do that to myself, how I could let myself be manipulated. This time, spend inside my head, convincing myself that there was good in the world and it was mine to enjoy. This time spent dissecting and relearning how to take care of myself, was the hardest fucking thing I’ve ever done.

Then, I ran because that anger was gone and I realized I loved to run. I loved this sometimes uncomfortable, mostly freeing feeling of flying. I loved how I felt and the person it was turning me into. I was becoming happy. I wasn’t broken anymore. I had my shit (somewhat) together. Now I run because I love everything about it. Running doesn’t owe me anything, and that is the most steady thing in my life. Running has brought me friends, community, family that I CHOSE and so many good memories. Running makes food taste better, sleep more deep and connection more meaningful. I am simply a happier and better person because I run.

For now, that is enough.

Now, can I compete and train at a high level while these thoughts sometimes still enter my head?

Most weeks and days, yes I can. It’s easy to say that here when I feel good and running is going well. I get it, today I feel fine and thoughts do not roam my brain. It’s not always this way, not always this simple.

Some weeks it’ll be Friday and I’ll realize I thought way too much about food in relation to running than normal. It’s days like those I catch myself and renegotiate. I’ll either eat something I’ve “gotten over” a long time ago to prove I broke those food patterns. I’ll run the same quality and feel the same so the thoughts leave.

Other times, it’s not so simple. I notice I’m having these thoughts and do not actively erase them from my mind. I let them stew feeling worse and worse about my diet, even if running is fine and I’m not restricting anything. I don’t change what I’m eating, but I feel “bad” about it. It occupies too much mental space, it’s not productive, yet I still do it. It’s almost like when you mindlessly scroll on social media. It’s not great for the headspace, it’s not productive, but it fills the space.

It keeps me from engaging with myself. Keeps me from feeling.

It’s times like these I pull out the big guns and I reach out to mentors and friends. They usually don’t know they are helping, but their normalcy gets me back to equilibrium. Being around people and talking to people who have a more normal life around food and exercise is healing. I’m able to see the crazy and get out of it. It’s not easy and it’s uncomfortable most times, but each time I go through the shit, I feel better.

So, back to the question, can I train the way I do with a history of poor food behavior and choices.

Yes, yes I can and I do. I will not let my shame prevent me from doing what I want to do, keep me from achieving my goals. I will however acknowledge my tendencies and patterns to actively resist those problems.

At the end of the day, I tell myself this,

I’d rather be fast than thin.