I did it! And i’m going to tell you the story, simply because i want to preserve the memory while it’s still in there.

I prepared well leading up to race day. Ate all the right things, drank all the water and rested as much as possible. I had dinner with all my running friends, which was really, truly wonderful. It felt so good to be sitting with a bunch of people i truly care about and share the running stories that don’t interest most of the people in my normal life. We laughed, and ate and settled into our pre-race nerves. This group is great because we cross all the divisions of age and skill, yet completely support each other. We were texting each other right up until we crawled into bed and then first thing in the morning. My phone buzzed with nervous texts at 5:30am. So much better than an alarm.

Shane dropped me close to the start line around 7am. I went into the starting corrals and just wandered around taking in all the faces and people. My feet swimming around in body glide inside my runners. The start line seems to be a place where nerves start to fade as the reality of the imminent race takes hold. I was seeded into the fourth corral, but wanted to be a bit further up to run with people at a similar pace. I went into the back of the third corral and soon enough it was time to go.

The start was quite slow as the pack naturally thinned out a bit. The first couple kilometers were nice and easy, mostly downhill. I was feeling really good and made a little mental movie of myself finishing. I decided right then that i was going to finish. We winded through a bunch of really beautiful neighbourhoods, i was focused on taking in the beauty to distract myself from the number of miles to come. Somewhere in here, 10km or so, we ran up a really, really long hill. I hated it and had my first walk break and ate my first energy chews. For whatever reason that hill took my confidence down several notches.

We then headed towards UBC and a long stretch with very few spectators. I didn’t realize how much the spectators helped motivate me until they weren’t there. I really had to go to the bathroom, but every time i passed the porta potties they were full. So i kept going, hoping the next one would be available. As we came out of UBC, somewhere around 18km i was starting to feel really down. The sun was too hot for me and i’m not used to running on paved roads with no relief from the heat. I finally found a bathroom and after emptying my bladder felt way better. There were a couple up and down hills and then we came down to sea level and the mid way point. To cross the mats at 21km we had to go into a parking lot and do a dumb loop, which really bugged me. I crossed the halfway point at 1:58. I was on track for a four hour marathon, but not feeling awesome.

As i headed out of that checkpoint i realized that i was already really tired and my feet were starting to hurt. Dumb mistake number 1 was that i noticed my shoes were laced too tight, but didn’t want to stop to fix them. I totally know better, it’s always smarter to stop and fix the problem and lose that minute or two because that problem will cost you lots of time later on. Competitive brain strikes again. I was feeling really deflated and wondering if i could make it as i looked over at Stanley Park which was SO FAR away.

A few kilometers later i saw Shane and the kids. It was amazing. I so badly needed to see them. I didn’t even know it. A quick kiss and hug and i ran on. The only problem was that i was so full of emotion as i left them behind that i couldn’t breathe. It took several minutes to slow my heart down and breathe normally again. This happened every time i saw them, though about them or thought about the finish line for the rest of the race. It felt like an anxiety attack.

I then saw my sister with my youngest daughter and her two girls. They were jumping up and down and ran along beside me. I felt full of love and joy and pride. My pace picked back up and i was feeling great as i headed up and over Burrard Street Bridge. By this point i was walking through all the aid stations and drinking gatorade and water at all of them. I was sweating a lot and was conscious of not getting dehydrated, i also felt for the first time in a race that i needed the sugar and electrolytes from the gatorade.

Before we headed onto the seawall i saw my family two more times. I was so happy every time i saw them coming, it gave me the energy i needed to keep putting one foot in front of the other. I felt so cared for thinking of them racing around the city to see me. We were all on our own little adventure. The seawall was amazingly beautiful, but also the point in the race where i saw almost all the runners hit the wall and really struggle. Myself included. Pace bands littered the ground as runners gave up time goals and focused on just getting to the finish. It was silent except for the smacking of feet to ground. I could feel the screaming inside everyone’s heads. There were no spectators, just runners fighting a big personal battle. There was lots of walking. I kept making visual goals, “i’ll just get to that turn up there and then i’ll walk for a bit.”  I stopped to walk several times and walked through every water station. It hurt just as much to walk as it did to run. It was a mental battle to just keep going. My feet hurt so much more than i thought possible. It was a brilliant route though because there was no stopping, there was no where to go except forwards. In the end i placed myself behind two guys that were plowing through and followed them as best i could. I knew my time goal was long gone, i just wanted to finish. At the 24 mile marker i saw my sister and the kids again. They yelled i was going to do it and i stopped and gave them all a huge sweaty hug and cried and cried as i left them. I was going to finish, i finally knew it.

As i ran up into the city i was feeling so rough. Just completely empty. I had to stop and walk for a few seconds with only one kilometer to go, i had dug as deep as i could and just needed to get to the finish so bad. I wanted it to be over. In the last couple hundred meters the spectators were incredible. Everyone shouting my name and just being so genuinely amazing and encouraging, really so life changing.

And then it was done. Just like that, i crossed the finish at 4:15, a medal was placed around my neck and i fell into the arms of my family.

The whole thing was so surreal. Taking my body to places mentally and physically i didn’t even know existed. Pushing through when i didn’t think i could. Months and months of training, coming back from a huge disappointment and injury last year. Meeting and changing goals with every step. This deep, deep pride that is so hard to explain. Running a marathon is such a solo thing, yet there is no way (and i am absolutely certain of this) that i could have done it without shane, my kids, my sister, my nieces and the spectators. There is a huge difference between running a 35km training run and running a marathon. I don’t know why, but i figured out pretty quickly yesterday that they were completely different.

Will i run another marathon? Right now i am thinking yes, but i’m going to let all the emotions from this one settle in first.

I started blogging in 2005 as a way to reach out to other mothers and share what i was going through. I had four kids in a six year period and after all the birthing and pregnancies and breastfeeding was done i found myself a little lost in motherhood. At the time it was really the beginning of personal blogging and i was lucky enough to get in on the ground floor and forge a path with an amazing group of women for the beginning of what would soon become known as “mommyblogging.”

I knew right from the start that what i was writing about was much more personal than just the normal “parenting” issues. In retrospect i realize that i was probably going through post partum depression compounded by an ongoing battle with anxiety and depression that had been slowly building for nearly a decade. Whatever the reason may be i quickly gained a loyal following and my traffic increased very steadily. By late 2006 i was nearing 200,000 unique visitors a month, the pressure to perform was immense. This also coincided with a rapid decline in my mental health. Some of the largest traffic days in the history of my blog happened to be the days i was in the psychiatric ward. I was writing on paper and my husband was transcribing it to my blog. I felt a frantic need to stay connected to my readers. I felt a responsibility to them, to let them know what was going on in my life. I didn’t want to let anyone down.

For the next several years i chronicled my troubles with medication, psychiatrists, counselors and the end of my marriage. Those years were the most open and personal i would ever be on the internet. Sometimes i was a total mess and screaming through words to page, others i was strangely calm, able to see exactly what was going on, but unable to help myself. I was in and out of clinics and doctors offices and emergency rooms, desperately unable to fix myself.

In December 2009 i overdosed on prescription medication and terrified of what i had done i reached out on twitter for help. It was a hard and humiliating time for me. I had thought that i was coping well with being a single mother and the aftermath of the breakup of my marriage, but in reality i was in deep mourning for the life i had thrown away.

That was a turning point for me. After i had recovered i made a decision to change my life, to be better, to be the best person that i could be. To live my life for myself, not for others. To seek acceptance only from within and live gracefully and thankfully in the world. For the first time in a decade i turned away from the internet and focused on myself, my family and rebuilding my marriage. I decided to stop telling my story and start living it. I began running, i gave up all prescription medicine, started taking vitamins and some homeopathic remedies. I ate and slept and lived as healthfully as possible. I ran a 10k race and a half marathon. My ex-husband became my husband again. I got a new job. I built a full and complete life.

I think through all of this i have learned three lessons. First is “You can’t take it back”

I do believe that writing about mental health is extremely powerful, it gives a personal connection and human element to a group of diseases that most people don’t even want to acknowledge exist. The problem is that once you put your story out there people will find it. Friends, family, even people who will go out of their way to say that you’re wrong, that you’re doing it wrong. People will say you’re a bad parent, wife, human. These things can be incredibly hurtful and work against any benefit you are doing for yourself or your community by telling your story. If you don’t want someone to know something, don’t write it down. Writing about mental illness makes you vulnerable. Being vulnerable is important because it makes you accessible, but it also makes you an easy target.

Second “You are not alone”

I have made some incredible friends from sharing my story. People whom i have traveled across continents to meet and others i have yet to meet, but hold close to my heart. Friends who i check in with on a daily basis, whom i have no doubt would be there for me anytime, under any circumstance. I have also had the opportunity to be a friend, offer support and advice or just an ear to whisper in and a shoulder to lean on. I have reached out to many people who have gone through and written a similar story to mine, in all these years i have rarely felt completely alone. A huge benefit has been being able to forge relationships on all levels without the burden of anxiety getting in the way. I have told my story within my own comfort zone and because of that i have become less alone.

You are your own best advocate (storyteller)

Doctors, counselors, family – they can only help as much as you let them. For myself, i needed to get to a place where i could be honest with myself before i could be honest with anyone else. I needed to accept and acknowledge that i was ill, that i needed to change something because not changing was killing me. Writing about mental health and winding through the medical system as a patient with mental illness is very powerful. The more people talk and write about it, the more the conversation is opened up, the greater variety of information and experience is released into the world. Information is truly power. If i write about how a certain medication made me feel like i wanted to kill myself instead of doing what it was supposed to do, i might just reach someone going through the same thing. I might let them know they are not crazy, they are feeling real and true things, i might help them. That is the advocate, the one who learns from others stories, finds ways to work through a clunky and old medical system, fights when no one else will. It is never as simple as a prescription, it never is, though they will tell you it should be. By writing about getting through the system we are offering advice, through experience, of what to expect, what is normal and what is not okay. That saying “this is not working for me” is often the best thing. The real truths come from people who have gone through the experience and sharing that is the bravest thing i ever did.

I’ve been thinking, obsessing about two things lately. The marathon and speaking at Breathe Now this weekend. Time has been at a minimum to focus on either of these, which has led me to obsess more.

The marathon is going to happen. After my long run yesterday i realized that the months of training have magically worked. Though running 30km is still incredibly tough, mostly playing the mental game, i finish and i can go about my normal day. The days of muscle aches and stomach trouble are behind me. My body is there.

Speaking at Breathe Now is an entirely different monkey. My mental health is great, better than i think it has ever been. I haven’t felt anywhere close to a mental crisis for years now. What i realize when challenged by something like speaking at a conference is that, perhaps, i haven’t changed so much as i have changed my life to match my weaknesses. Meaning, my social anxiety is still very much in play, i just don’t challenge it ever. I work, i run alone and i spend time with shane and the kids. I never do anything social. Conveniently, i am always working when any opportunity to be social comes up. Shane has adjusted his life so that he fills his need for social interaction without me. Healthy? I’m not sure, but it is working for me. I fill my need for interacting with people and making friendships solely online. When real time meetings of online people come up i am largely unavailable.

So, speaking at the conference has brought up a bunch of familiar feelings of dread for me. In preparing for this weekend a huge part of getting ready has been focused on preparing myself to do something that makes me very uncomfortable. All of this ties very neatly into my presentation, so in many ways my own anxiety about talking has given me something to talk about.

I hope to see some familiar faces this weekend, even just for something to distract me from myself.

I went for my longest run in this training season yesterday. 32 kilometers. That is a big number. It’s been almost  a year since my three stress fractures training for the same marathon last spring. This time around i have been more careful. Two years into running and i’ve learned a few things. Sometimes less is better. I only run four days a week. Three of those runs are less than 90 minutes and i save my legs for the long run. It seems to be paying off.

Although i felt like crap for the last five kilometers yesterday i woke up this morning feeling tired, but not sore or stiff. Progress!

By the time i run the BMO Vancouver marathon in five weeks i will have been training for it for the better part of two years. I’m pretty sure i will only do the one marathon. The time involved is just too much for this working mother of four. My days off are consumed by running and i end up feeling overwhelmed with all the other stuff i need to take care of.

I’m excited to kick this item off my bucket list and return to a somewhat normal life and then the epic craziness of working in a wine country destination during tourist season.

I’ve met some amazing people through my computer. People who have touched my life on a daily basis simply by seeing some words from them pop up in my world as i sit quietly in the morning, cup of coffee in hand, enjoying a few peaceful moments.

I am not a social person. I don’t like parties. I don’t like any sort of gathering actually. I prefer the company of my family or nothing at all. Yet i crave human contact, to feel connection to people. It’s a strange sort of world inside my head. If i didn’t have my computer it would have been a very lonely life for me. Yet somehow i have muddled through this social anxiety and forged real, true bonds with some people. People that i can now call friends.

I ran my eighth half-marathon this past weekend. It was good, i did well, i felt like i wasn’t going to make it, but i did. It was similar to the rest of them, deeply satisfying, a personal triumph. The story doesn’t change that much from race to race. What was different this time was the people that were there.

When i started running i began to seek out other runners through all my online activities. I friended every runner i could find on twitter, i joined Daily Mile. I asked questions, because there were and still are, a ton of them. Throughout the past two years i have gotten to know several local runners through my computer and gradually they have become friends. I am training with them for the Vancouver Marathon. On sunday evenings we all compare our long runs from the week, how training is going and offer tidbits of wisdom and encouragement. It is a very special thing.

At the half-marathon last sunday there were five of us there. We chatted a bit before the race, we cheered each other on as we ran and passed each other at various points, they encouraged me as i struggled and i high-fived them whenever possible. Joy welling in me. At the finish the fastest member of our group had long since crossed the line, he ran back on the course and ran me in the last kilometer. He was so encouraging and it was just such a wonderful thing. It was an experience i will never forget.

I’ve been invited to speak at the Breathe Now conference in a panel discussion about mental health and my personal story.

Honestly, my first thought was “me? I’m fine now. That’s not my story anymore.”

But that is simply not true.

It’s been twenty seven months since i last fell down a deep dark hole. Let my life spin out of control until i couldn’t imagine waking up to one more lonely, cold morning. Twenty seven months isn’t very long.

And i am doing better. I am doing well. I’ve found a healthier way to deal with the metronome inside my head. The click clacking back and forth from low to high. Truth be told it is a far greater struggle than i ever let on. I sit up at night and listen to the raging in my head. The crazy thoughts. The loss of control. I don’t fight it anymore. I let it go, let it out. I put my phone away so i can avoid any crazy screaming on social media. I run in the mornings, in the evenings. Sometimes i run despite stress fractures and shin splints and sore muscles. I just run until my head calms and my heart stops skipping. I get out of bed when i don’t want to. I keep house and home when i want to let it all fall apart. I give kisses and hugs when i just want to retreat into myself.

I work hard to stay on the yellow line. If i weave i drink a glass of water and start again. I start again every morning.

This is how i do it. How i become the better, the healthy, person. I don’t want to be that quietly suffering woman who cried for seven years straight ever again.

It’s another year. Another marathon. Another series of races.

Things are going really well. I have finally figured out how to listen, really listen to my body. Accept that age and time and lifestyle all play their part in my performance. That the only thing i want to beat is myself. I want to track down those demons that haunt me and beat them out of my head. Push myself to the point that i want to quit, just give up. And then not do it. Don’t quit, don’t give up, just keep going. One more mile, one more step, one more day.

I ran in a small local race yesterday and pushed myself harder than i ever have. I wanted to be fast. I wanted to see exactly how much i could push. I ran at the very fastest speed i was capable for every mile of the six mile race. I had a couple in there that were under 8 minutes and all the rest averaged around 8:10. I felt like quitting. I felt dizzy at times. I felt my heart pounding on some of the hills. My breathing was quick most of the time, but when i started to think about it, i hyperventilated. I thought less and just concentrated on the little bit of road ahead of me. I didn’t care who passed me or who i passed. I just kept thinking “this is all about me.” That hour of my life i only thought about myself.

It was freeing. It was adrenaline. It was amazing.

I finished the 10km race in 50 minutes and 36 seconds. (my chip time was 51 even, but i’m going with my Garmin because i can.) I never thought i could keep on getting faster. Fitter. Stronger. I won a ribbon for placing 8th in my age group which made me giddy and proud.

The funny thing is late last night a friend posted some photos of me from the race and for a moment they defeated me. In my self-conscious eyes i looked horrible. I didn’t see how i feel. I saw a normal woman running. I didn’t see the runner i feel like. And that was hard to take. Defeating.

I had to sit and remind myself that this is, really and truly, my own journey. Running has made me healthier than i have ever been in my life. It has given me focus and drive and determination. Goals both attainable and a huge stretch. It will not turn me into something i am not. It will not transform this body that is mine by genetics and make-up. Most of the runners i see in races look exactly like me. A normal person.

But this is not completely normal is it. Most people don’t run marathons. Spend entire months completely focused on one thing. Running until they are about to break. Sometimes breaking. It is time to celebrate everything we do that is extraordinary.

We have been looking at houses. Searching for the elusive five bedroom.

I’m not sure what it is that propels us to keep on moving, keep on changing. Is it a wandering or is it a yearning. In another house it will all be perfect. If only we had room we would feel settled.

Sometimes it is easier to pack up, walk away from your problems than continue on the endless treadmill of what if’s and if only’s.

But stop. We have done that before and ended up back in the exact same spot. As my life leads further away from that four year hiatus from married life it becomes more of that life i used to know. All the struggle and insecurity fades and lights anew the warm glow of family.

And suddenly i wake up and i feel his warm hand on my hip. And i know that everything i have, everything that is in this house, all of it, all of it is exactly right.

Life just ticks along. There are the good and the bad and, usually, something in between.

My legs are tired and my heart is beating. Training for a marathon again and realizing that the only person i’m trying to beat is myself. To cross the finish line and erase the crushing memory of dropping out last year just 6 kilometers from the end. It’s going well, i’m listening to my body without listening too hard. Plugging in the miles week after week. I think i’m a third of the way there. The one lesson i have learned in these two years of running is that it is never easy and 26.2 miles is a damn long way.

Most of my mental energy lately has been focused on parenting a teenager. Most days falling into bed wondering what happened to the girl i had last summer. I do my best and hope we come out the other side safe, healthy and happy.

Melancholy has been the theme this winter. Neither this nor that. Finding the peace in the unsettling and the joy in the sadness. Laughing when that’s all there is left.

The other day i was out for a walk with parker and a neighbor invited us to a party. He looked up at me and said “i like to party, but i always regret it the next day.” And that is the hilarious i find in the mundane. These kids. They are awesome.

There is an elephant in this room.

Somewhere between here and there, i lost my mojo. My thing. If you can’t write about anything what is there left to write about. If everything you say has the potential to hurt feelings, or talk about that thing that can’t be said, if everything is unspeakable – what do you become.

Perhaps that is the very best part of running. Mile after lonely mile the solitude takes hold. There is just me and my heartbeat and nothing to say.

I have lost my desire for most things. Is this the beginning of menopause, is this what it looks like. Hormones remove any desire to fight, to be passionate, to say what you really want to say.

Often times i sit in the middle of a conversation. Silently. The words in my head are passionate and elegant, full of love and desire. Stuck inside there. No reasonable escape, because when they do they come out all wrong. You’re wrong.

Often times i spend entire days living in there. I speak to nothing. I go unnoticed. Tears roll down my face at seemingly nothing. My body gives away buckets of blood and sweat, leaving me speechless. Again.

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