Mileage - 5; time - wasn't counting; conditions - 5.30am so i didn't notice; weekly mileage 11 miles.
It's 1.30 am Thursday morning. Can't sleep. Insomnia. Head is racing. Thoughts passing through my mind. Difficult to stop. I've tried sleeping for an hour. Obviously didn't work, so here i am. In front of my laptop with nothing more than tired eyes, dishevelled hair and Marks and Sparks pants. Not an enduring image for anyone reading this at breakfast. Still at least it's not a thong so i'll spare you that one.
Today i was ill. Fluey, really tired, feeling sick and not great. The day started OK at 5am, when i woke early, ran to Batersea Park (2.5miles) to train someone at 6am. Witnessed a sunrise that was incredible, looked like London was on fire, and then ran back again (2.5miles), so by 7.15am i already had 5 miles and a sunrise under my belt. I was ready for work. Ready to take on the day.
Well not quite, some form of unbelievable tiredness and nausea kicked in and i went back to bed to sleep for an hour. Woke up, put suit on, went into city and tried to work. Didn't feel right though, like an imposter trapped in a 3 piece suit. Ground out the day and then back home at 6pm and straight to bed to sleep for 3 hours. Then awake, felt equally as crap and vegetated on the sofa for 3 hours until trying to sleep, until i find myself here.
Feels like a system shut down today. The ultimate candida, flu type thing. It's an effort to get up, let alone to cross train or hill sprint. My closest thing to shuttle runs is really slow trips to the fridge and back to get some more apples/grapes. And working on my core involved eating Pink Ladies and Braeburns.
What the fuck is wrong with me? I'm 39 not 89 for Christs sakes! I think my Nan moves quicker than me on her Stanner Stairlift. I'm certainly not a great advertisement for marathon training at the moment.
I think quite possibly it's the appalling diet. 4 days of good and then 4 days of ultra bad obviously fuck my system up. So why do it? Not really sure if I'm being honest. I think I'm hell bent on smashing myself up one way or other. Maybe because deep down i truly hate myself and feel comfortable being self destructive. Trouble is when you're doing it with alcohol or drugs everyone knows about it and it's a very public destruction.
When you do it yourself with food or even just negative thinking/isolation/depression it's a silent personal thing. Like a slow death by installments without the world noticing.
You re functional. To all the world you are a normal human being. Interacting, working, showing up. But inside it's not the case, and then when the health suffers, god that is really tough and you effectively abandon ship after shutting the door.
That's whats happened tonight. It maybe just being ill. It maybe being a Man and over dramatising things. It maybe that I'm just not happy with myself or my life right now.
I hear the words ringing in my ears, 'Well do something about it then'. Which in fairness is the truth. There is no one else going to change things or hand me a different set of cards. they've got to be earned, Worked for. Sought out myself.
But tonight, it just feels too fucking hard to try. Is this what depression feels like? I've never been depressed or considered myself depressed. I understand it. Have experienced bi-polar 1st hand all my life as my eldest brother has it severely. And my heart goes out to people who have it. It is a real fucker. So i measure depression by the most severe Manic Depression and i`m certainly not that.
I also have a large does of cynicism how much depression is banded about. Like it's almost trendy for people to say 'i'm depressed'. The easy way out. Just take a pill and you'll feel better. I read that the UK is the highest consumer of anti depressants in the world. Yet a Govt survey showed the population to be 66% happy.
And what is happiness anyway? Who considers themselves happy? Someone asked me when was i last truly happy and i couldn't answer them. How sad is that?
Maybe i need more meaning and purpose to my life. I was hoping the marathon training would bring me that focus and discipline but that went out of the window long ago after the injury and then inertia and negative thinking took over. Back to the bad old me.
Another feeling is one of being overwhelmed. Like you have too many things to think of and do and can't seem to do any of them. Even the ones you do, you don`t feel you are doing good enough. Even digital media was freaking me out earlier. Hootesuite, Twitter, facebook, vimeo, video blogs, how to get bigger readership, blogging, You Tube, Google plus, Ipads. Jesus, i don't understand any of them really and that freaks me.
In fact today i am having a very manageable breakdown. Where is my money? my future? My career? What will become of me? when will i figure out what i want to do with my life? when will i grow up? How do i write better jokes?
All of the above is as mild form of panic and really it is overwhelming sometimes. Maybe it's just being tired and ill. Yes fuck it I'll put it down to that. Tomorrow is another day so they say, but to depressives that's the last thing you think of, as its just another day to 'get through'. Today just felt like one long endless frame of snooker. In the 80`s there was a player called Cliff Thorburn, who`s nickname was `The Grinder`, as he played so slow and cagey and every frame was a grim battle. He was my favourite player. I wonder why?
Today is one of those blog entries I'll regret tomorrow or when I'm feeling better. Maybe I'll read it and think, 'Man you self piteous whinging twat'. But you know what? I stated at the start i wanted to be authentic. That i would maybe write things i wish i hadn't, was embarrassed by, that i regretted. Was too open, to honest and to grim. Today is one of those occassions.
Hpwever if there is one thing i'd always like to stand by then it's the truth. authentic. No point in presenting an image, an idea of myself, of where i;m at today. Right here and now at 2 in the morning feeling blue. That makes me feel good. Courage of your convictions and the ability to carry them out. At least that makes my moral fibre strong and feel good.
What is the answer? It;s simple to live right, keep believing, get healthy (I'm sure i've said that at least 24 times in this blog) and get motoring again. 'This too shalt pass' as the saying goes and tonight Matthew i will be mostly holding on to that one. The real moral fibre and courage is engaging the act of change, in risking and trying it out. In putting in the action. Talk of change i find easy, it`s just doing it is the bastard
On that light note, i`m off to bed to dream of long games of snooker. Ironic that Cliff Thorburn, the slowest, most boring, durable, grim and dour player snooker has ever seen was a Cocaine addict. There is a certain ironic poetic humour in that which makes me smile
loves
xx
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