My Story

With just less than two weeks to go before the London marathon, I feel compelled to say a bit more about why I am running for the UK national mental health charity, Mind. I find this hard to write, though, because as much as I want to raise awareness of mental health and reduce the stigma, I feel paralysed by it.

I often feel very caught inside my own head. Thinking and rethinking. Criticising and denigrating. Analysing and overwhelming myself. I don't know how much of this is mental health versus who I am as a person, but I do know that when I am mentally healthy, I spend much less energy on what is going on inside my head.

Depression and anxiety have been a part of who I am since I can remember. Fourteen years ago, I was hospitalised for three days after taking an overdose of prescription medication. This was not the first time that I had contemplated suicide, but it was the first time I had acted on those thoughts. This was my low and, to date, my lowest. In some ways, though, it was a high because it helped get me on the right medication and into the right treatment. People are not wrong when they say that sometimes it takes hitting rockbottom for you to take control of your life.

The difficulty with depression and anxiety, however, is that they are never cured. They lurk in the corners waiting for times of stress and instability. Having had to manage with depression for a long time, I anticipated that I might suffer from postnatal depression and tried to prepare myself. What I didn't expect was something called postnatal anxiety because I had never heard of it. Frankly, it is terrifying. I had compulsive and intrusive thoughts that were constant and exhausting. I had thoughts about germs and the catastrophic consequences of not washing my hands constantly. I had thoughts about what I needed to do and worries about not remembering everything. I remember walking home from dropping my son at nursery and needing to count backwards by sevens out loud just to quiet the intrusive thoughts in my head. It was exhausting. I even had thoughts about hurting my babies. Or about harm coming to them. They were intrusive thoughts that would just pop into my head unsuspected. I would be walking through a doorway and have an image of my baby's head smashing against the doorframe.  As a child protection social worker,  I can't even explain how terrifying these were.

Luckily, it was hormonal, and it passed. It helped tremendously to discover that two of my friends in America had also suffered from this. I spoke to the midwife about it and she was incredibly supportive. I knew I would never do anything to hurt my baby, but when you can't stop those thoughts from entering your head, you really start to question your sanity.

Last year, when my second baby was just three months old, my uncle John took his own life after battling his own demons of depression and anxiety. Because of the way his body was found, there was a postmortem examination. This delayed when we could have his funeral so by the time his body was released, it was almost a month after his death. At the same time, we had closed on a new house which we had made an offer on when our baby was born. So the week of John's funeral was also the week we moved into our new house. Baby, move, death of a loved one. Any of these major life events would be sufficient to trigger an episode, but all three at the same time? I had a few days when all I wanted to do was crawl into bed and forget about the rest of the world, but I didn't do it. I wasn't particularly productive, but I didn't let myself sink. And I think that is evidence enough of how far I have come.

One year later, I am embarking on a new mental challenge: running a marathon. I had no idea before starting my training just how much of a mental challenge it would be. It has been an emotional roller coaster. But running is how I currently choose to manage my mental health, so I feel it is very poignant that this is how I choose to raise awareness for it.

Thank you for reading my story. If you would like to help support the work of Mind, please visit my fundraising site at www.virginmoneygiving.com/KirstenCronan

Roller coaster

Training for a marathon is turning out to be an emotional roller coaster. I wonder if it would feel the same if I were preparing under different circumstances, but one day I'll feel it is possible and the next I'm not sure if I'll make it to the start line let alone the finish.

Remember how I was anxiously waiting to see a sports physio? Well she was fantastic and very supportive of my continued training. I'm focusing on stretching and building stability while continuing to train as usual.

This led to a 12 mile run this weekend. I was silly excited, but I had done as the physio instructed and was feeling positive.  All went well until the last two miles when I had to really cheer myself on to make it through.

This left me really worried that my level of fitness is not quite ready for this challenge. And then the next morning I was very, very uncomfortable. Not tight in my hip, but pain engulfing my back and pelvis. I had to sit through a training seminar all day and by the end it felt like I was 40 weeks pregnant, the pain in my pelvis was so bad.

My daughter had a rough night (teething), so I hit the alarm at 4:45, but when I did get out of bed, my pelvis was fine. I managed to complete my 40 min run without any pain. Yesterday I thought I was going to have to throw in the towel scared that every increase in mileage would cripple me. 

I'm amazed at how my body has adapted. I'll need to keep these positive thoughts in mind when the roller coaster reaches it's next dip.

Waiting

I'm sitting, waiting to see a sports Physio and feeling incredibly anxious. My mind keeps thinking that this is it. I'm out. Right now 10 miles seems to be my max. I can't run a 10 mile marathon. 

But I have to remind myself that I'm not injured. My hip is tight, but I don't have any sharp pain. I'm doing this to prevent an injury. 

Everyone on the Mind marathon forum swears by physios. That they have helped them to complete the marathon against all odds. 

I wonder if I'm being ridiculous. Why did I agree to run this marathon when I knew my body wasn't ready?

I guess only time will tell. Here's hoping the Physio is optimistic and has lots of supportive advice. 

Free February

A friend of mine is trying to get pregnant. Because she's been trying for 6 months, she sought advice to see if she could be doing anything differently and was advised that eating too much sugar could  have an impact on her hormone levels.

We all know about sugar highs and lows. I'm very well acquainted with the sugar coma and subsequent hangover feeling from eating too much. Sometimes I eat so much that I feel like I'm walking around in a fog. You'd think I'd learn!

So this got me thinking about my own consumption. Since I weaned my daughter just before Christmas, my sugar intake has skyrocketed. My daughter has multiple food allergies, so I was off of cakes and such while breast feeding. Now, however, it's basically no holds barred and it's not pretty.

A consequence of this, I think, is an increase in my mood swings. So when I heard my friend talking about sugar effecting your hormone levels, I decided I was going to cut down, too.

Today starts day one of no sweets, chocolate, cakes, or soda. Yesterday was my daughter's first birthday, so I let that one slide. Here's to a successful first day. I'm sure I'll have much more to say about this in a few days!

Trust

I learned a valuable lesson today: all my miles count. 

I keep looking back at the time I injured myself and seeing it as ground zero. Seeing my recovery time as a set back. As meaning that I'm starting from scratch.

But it's not and I'm not. I've put in 9 months of road time and my legs remember that. My heart and my lungs remember that.

Despite all my positive self talk, I was still really anxious this morning as I set off to accomplish 10 miles. My body was fine, though. I took it slow and I felt strong. 

I think my body needed me to know that it's put in a lot of work this year and a couple of set backs don't negate all that hard work. 

So today I learned that I need to trust in the process. Trust that I have worked hard and put in the miles. Trust that I can do this.

Friday. The new Monday.

Friday training days are proving to be a challenge. Between my husband leaving for work at 6 and my working part time, I've had to carefully plan which days I can train on.

Right now it's set as Tuesday, Friday, and Sunday. Three days a week because I'm trying to avoid injury. On Tuesdays and Fridays I get up at 4:45 am so I can be out the door by 5. I work on Wednesday and Thursday and aim to leave the house by 7:45. I'm not usually home until 7 pm and very much ready for bed by 9!

My kids have never been good sleepers. A is a bit better than L, but she's teething lately and currently seems to have a cold (complete with fever and vomiting).

As you can imagine, by the time Friday morning comes around, running in the dark, freezing cold of 5am is the last thing I want to do.

I didn't make it out the door this morning, but running two days a week is not going to get me to that finish line in very good shape.

So right now, while I rock my sick baby while she fitfully sleeps, I'm telling myself to suck it up and go tonight. I'm not training for a marathon because it's easy.  And this is just part of the journey.

London Marathon, Baby!

Wow. I just re-read my last post. If that is not a clear indication of why I need to run, I don't know what is.

I'm happy to say that I am in a much better place right now. I started to run again over Christmas after about 5 weeks off. I've tried to take the road back to running slowly, but it is hard. Right now I'm only running 3 days a week because I know that I need to take it easy.

With stress at work and my mental health needing a real boost, it is hard to reign myself in. I see other people running and I yearn to be out there. But I must take it slow.

So how to take it slow...

Yes, the title of my post is the London Marathon. And, yes, I got a spot. But that is not taking it slow, you say. No. It's not.

It was a really difficult decision when I got the call. I cried. I worried. I talked and talked to my husband about it.  I didn't make the cut back in October, but I put myself on the waiting list because I wanted it so badly. I put it out of my head and kept Richmond Park in the forefront of my mind.

But I got the call. I got the chance. And how can you turn down London?

I'm telling myself that this is for John. 13 April is 5 days after his anniversary date. John lived in London. And it is for Mind. Yes, running a marathon is for myself. It is a goal I have had for a while now, but if it were purely for myself, I would take the longer time to train. I would choose Richmond.

So I'm telling myself that my only goal is to finish. That it's okay to walk (eek - walk?!).

I'm absolutely terrified that I have to run 10 miles this weekend. The last time I ran 10 miles I injured myself. But if I'm going to run 26.2, I have to get past 10 first. So let's take it one step (mile) at a time.

Honesty

No amount of denial is going to change the fact that I am injured again. I can't stop my thoughts from racing ahead; to thinking I won't be able to run the marathon in May 2014. My first marathon. Symbolic of the mental and physical strength I have gained through running and marking the year anniversary of my uncle's suicide.

I keep thinking that if I'm going to train properly, I need six months. That means I need to start soon. So I push myself before I'm ready. I increased my mileage with both kids in the jogging stroller pushing over 60 lbs for four and five miles. And then I ran 10 miles on my long run day. Over wet and uneven trails. Of course I look back and call myself an idiot. But I was feeling strong. Wanted to challenge myself.

Now with a hip so tight I can barely bend sideways to an angle of 15 degrees, I'm telling myself I don't need physio again. I've just started back at work. Where will I find the time? So I rest for a week and then try an easy 3 miler only to have my hip seize up again.

Trying hard to fight the black mood which has slowly surfaced over three weeks of inconsistent exercise and a change in routine, my thoughts keep catastrophizing: thinking that if this doesn't get better right now, I won't be able to honor John's memory the way that feels most poignant to me.

John, who agonizingly went missing only to be found dead three days later. In the woods. After taking his own life. Alone. Found by a stranger walking her dog.

I have felt alone. I have felt that low. I run so I don't feel that way. But I can't run right now and that is what I find terrifying.

Lost

Things have been feeling a bit off lately. I know that I'm off track when my anxieties start rearing their ugly heads. When I can't think because the counter has crumbs on it. When I can't walk out the door to do errands because the dishes haven't been put away. When I absolutely have to wash my hands because a thought about germs popped into my head. And then I have to wash them again because just maybe I didn't do it well enough the first time.

I don't remember anxiety playing such a huge role in my life in the past. Depression was always the headliner. But for whatever reason - hormonal changes, age, experiences - anxiety is starting to settle down into my life and to take a permanent place. And I don't like it.

I'm starting back at work on Wednesday. Part-time. I know that I need this, but change has always been hard for me even when it is good for me.  I'm trying to manage this, the practicalities of needing to think coherently and be a professional, with leaving my children again. My baby for the first time. I am trying to fit in my running because I know that if that slips, things could end up getting a lot worse. And I am trying to negotiate the holiday season, a time that for whatever reason, always leaves me feeling homesick.

Truth be told, I'm feeling a bit lost right now. I don't like the me who is anxious, unfocused, scatterbrained, critical, and negative. These are all symptoms of my mental health slipping. Signs that things are going sour and that I better do something soon or else.  I guess the benefit of managing my mental health for the past twenty years is that I can now recognise this. And I usually know, if not exactly what needs to be done, what direction I need to point myself in.

On Being Injured

I think I found my depression the most difficult to manage when I was in high school and college. I was overflowing with teenage angst: trying to find myself and feeling defined by my feelings. I thought I was evil at times. I thought I had a blackness inside of me. I even thought my depression made me smarter and a "bigger" person. It was during these times that I was at the most risk for hurting myself because I felt that my depression was integral to who I was.

I write this looking at who I am now and how truly different I am. Perhaps some of it is age. I no longer feel the need to philosophise about things ad infinitem and while I am still introspective, it is with a lot more self understanding.

In college, a setback would last weeks and involve long spots of not speaking to my friends, who were probably very worried about me. A setback would leave me questioning my own existence and lead to suicidal thoughts.

Today, I seem to spring back much more quickly. I injured myself running my first post pregnancy 5k race and have been told by a physiotherapist to completely rest. Immediately after the injury I had continued to run until it became a sharp pain and I just couldn't carry on. After accepting that I needed professional input, my mood slowly deteriorated until I had my worst day just over a week ago. But it was only that. One day. And since that day I have been okay. I still have mood swings during the day, but I can't rule out lack of sleep and hormones as being responsible for those.

While inside I am still terrified that this injury means I will never run again, my grown up self realises that this is catastophizing. Much more, I can counteract it with realism that I actually believe. Resting now will ensure many, many more years of running. This is a temporary blip. I only had my baby six months ago and I am still breastfeeding. My body has been through enormous changes in the past year and it will take time to regain my fitness.

I don't intend to sit on the couch and feel sorry for myself. While my brain is hungering for that extra serotonin, I have learned enough over the years to know that I can be the one in control of things. It may be a bit more cognitive work than I would like right now, but I'll be back to running soon enough. And I'll be a stronger person both mentally and physically because of it.

Where I'm At

I haven't written in a long time because I wasn't sure I wanted to anymore. Maybe it is like this for you, too - being so constantly inside your own head that you start to doubt yourself. I think of things to write. Then over think them. And then the moment passes and it seems too late to write it down. But. Here I am again.

I have been through quite a few major life events in the past six months including giving birth, losing a loved one, and moving house. Any one of these things happening on its own could have sent me into a tailspin in the past. All three at the same time would have seen me catatonic or institutionalised. Seriously. But here I stand today on strong legs.

I plan to go into detail about those life events in later posts, but today I am back because I keep thinking of blog posts during my runs. Surely this is my brain telling me I need to process some stuff.

I set up this blog to talk about my experiences with depression and anxiety and how running helps me manage them. This weekend I was remarkably anti-anxious (for lack of a better descriptive term). Bored of running laps inside the nature reserve next to my house (even though it is beautiful), I decided to venture into unfamiliar territory. I had 7 miles to cover and didn't want to see the same paths I had covered over the past month. So without a plan I started running. My only thought was to go straight(ish) and to turn around at the halfway point.

I found it so exhilarating and liberating to run down new roads and to discover places I would have missed if I had stuck to my safe route. The area I'm living in feels like the country, but has pavement for pedestrians. This made it easy to run safely. I started to feel more anxious as more houses appeared and then more shops, but by then I was almost halfway and was proud of how far I had made it.

To get a little bit of perspective, I have a hard time going to new places. It takes me a long time to acclimatise because I can only try new things very slowly and gradually. Even in familiar towns I will walk by some shops because I have never been in them before. I can't tell you how many petrol stations I have driven by because of anxiety even though the tank is getting low. I fear looking stupid or looking like I don't know what I'm doing. So. Branching out and trying a new route was a big deal for me. Doing this without a plan or having mapped it out first was huge. Or maybe that is what made it possible...

Perhaps it is because I have been running again more regularly that I had the emotional strength to do this. Whatever the cause, I am super proud of myself for having done it. It has increased my self esteem and helped me to explore our new neighbourhood. It was such a positive experience that I took a new route again today and discovered even more things about where we are now living. I have found some new routes to run that I can add to my arsenal and I have plans to continue to explore. For now, I am filing this positive experience away to help keep me strong for the future.

A week of excuses

If you've struggled with depression or anxiety, you know how easy it is to make a million and one excuses for something that is hard. Here are my excuses for this week:

Monday - 6.25 miles overambitious run
Tuesday - rest day
Wednesday - pain immediately upon running, so decided to rest
Thursday - too tired, too lazy, too scared to try again
Friday - out of the house by 6:15 for work
Saturday - too despondent to run
Sunday - 4 miles!

I bought some pregnancy shirts this week specifically for running since I'm finding it increasingly difficult to squeeze into my normal workout gear. Today's shirt read, "I'm eating for 2, what's your excuse?" I felt it was appropriate given my week of excuses.

I felt good on today's run. I really wanted to go long, but given how that affected me this week and resulted in not really running at all the rest of the week, I decided to only do 4 miles. I was originally going to do 3, but that didn't feel like far enough (does that make me a real runner?), so I pushed it to four. And I even ran the whole way - hills and all.

That felt fantastic.

A hard pill to swallow

My Monday Bank Holiday 6+ mile run bubble has burst. Infused with inspiration to get back into my running schedule, I was up before the crack of dawn this morning. Squeezing into my non-maternity running clothes, I waited until my coffee had kicked in and there was a little bit of sunlight outside (I'm a bit scared of running in the dark).

I always walk for a few minutes to warm up, but it was evident as soon as I started running that my pelvis had not recovered from my long run on Monday. This immediate pain is not normal, so I kept going for about 30 seconds before deciding it was best to bail. I'm not feeling despondent just yet because I'm hoping that it's just too soon after my long run to have attempted another run. I'm really hoping that I will successfully complete my run tomorrow.

What does bother me is the implication that I might not be able to do any more long runs. There's something about running long that fills me with pride and confidence. I will miss that if I have to give it a break and only be able to do shorter runs.

In the meantime, I'm going to start looking at stationary bikes just to make sure I can keep up with exercising. That's how motivated I'm feeling, so I might as well make the most of it.

A true BAMR

Feeling my mood has been slowly slipping into the negative zone, I was determined to get my run in today. I saw the doctor on Wednesday and he encouraged me to keep running as much as I can (yay!), but to take it easy. So perhaps running at a pace one minute from my personal best for the 10k isn't such a great idea right now.

This is me last weekend after the Richmond 10k. Yes, one minute from my personal best. 

The pace was so fast (and tough) for the first 1k that I cried, terrified that I'd come in last. 

That fast pace left my pelvis in a lot of discomfort, something that really worried me after all the pain I experienced with my last pregnancy. But, determined to deal with this proactively and to be more fit this pregnancy, the doctor has referred me for physiotherapy and I'm going to keep running.

This morning I set off for my run with optimism and a dose of forgiveness. I was going to take it slow and I was going to walk if I needed to. The first 2 miles were rough, but once I hit my stride, even the hills didn't slow me down. Well, I attacked one with gusto, the others I allowed myself to walk after giving them a good go.  I felt so good, in fact, that I ran 6 and a quarter miles rather than my planned 5.  I had only finished 5 miles by the time I had finished 10k last weekend, but it didn't bother me because I felt so good.

I won't lie and say the run was pain free because it wasn't, but I was able to run further before it started and I took it easy once it was there. I felt like a true badass mother runner.

My only worry now is how many pitstops I'll need to make for the toilet...

SPD

It was with ginger feet that I left for my run this morning. I'm worried about a condition I had during my last pregnancy: symphysis pubis dysfunction or pelvic girdle pain. It's not uncommon for pregnant women given that our joints get loose in preparation to birth a baby, but it is not pleasant. I was in quite a lot of pain by the end of my last pregnancy which resulted in very little exercise and quite a bit of weight gain. It continued after I had my son and I needed to have some physiotherapy to help it. With all that, it's very much on my mind this pregnancy and a large part of why I'm still running and trying to stay fit.

For the past few weeks, I have started to feel some of the twinges starting during my runs. When I saw a physio after my last pregnancy, she told me that as long as it isn't sharp pain, to carry on. So I have been. And so I ran my first 10k race this past weekend and my pelvis was very sore afterwards. During the race it was just the achy feeling, but for a few days afterwards I would get the sharp pains if my weight wasn't evenly distributed. Most likely this is just from swelling from irritation. I ran the 10k at a pace I did not expect from my pregnant self, but this clearly has made my pelvis unhappy.

So I set off for my run this morning fully expecting to have some pain. I kept at a very, very easy pace and took a short route that I knew I could cut even shorter if I needed to. I felt great for the first two miles and then the pain started again. So, with all this in mind, I am off to the doctor this morning to hopefully control this before it gets out of hand. I'm hoping that I will be able to keep running. For my mental health. For my physical health. And for my baby.

I'll keep you posted.

I need to get out of my head this morning. I feel grumpy and irritable and just plain short fused.

I haven’t been for a run in a week. I planned to run yesterday and today, but my son was up before 5 and came into our bed. He wasn’t back to sleep in time for me to get up at 5, so I chose to sacrifice my run to attempt to get him back to sleep.

I say that I chose this because I know in my head that it is a choice. But my depressive voice is feeling resentful. My childish, selfish depression is shouting, “It’s not fair!”.

I think I am feeling this way because my runs have been decreasing in frequency since we’ve been back in the UK and I’ve started working full time. My fears, which often become self-fulfilling prophecies, were that I wouldn’t be able to run as much while pregnant and that this would lead to a gradual decrease in my mental health. The fact that the pregnancy has nothing to do with the frequency of my runs at this point is irrelevant. They just aren’t happening.

Honestly, it’s been a tough transition and I’m still struggling to find the right balance with the juggling act. While I still feel that going back to work was the right decision for me, I miss my son immensely. And while I love being back in the UK, I don’t have the answers yet to solve this puzzle.

So I will blog about it to at least purge most of it from my head. I need to trust that this is just the best I can do for right now. 

The Path to Positivity

My husband and I had a rare night out last night. Dinner and a movie. We didn't get home until well after midnight. And then my son was up at 5am.

Despite the lack of sleep, I still went for my long(ish) Sunday run. I felt really sluggish and negative, but the scenery helped to shift my mood and my motivation.

How beautiful is this? This is the Thames path heading to Teddington Lock

Don't be fooled by the flatness of this path. The stones make this a very tricky run. I'm waiting to see which tiny muscles are going to be sore tomorrow. 

If I was a better photographer, you'd see a bunch of rowers. Maybe here for the Olympics? I did see someone running with a pole (practicing for the torch relay next week?)!

And Teddington Lock. Much more beautiful in person. What is it about water that is so calming? Being near it always helps me recharge. 

And while I'm feeling tired and drained post run, I'm so happy that I got out there. That positivity will carry me through me day.

Finding a routine

When we were in Singapore, I had a great training routine. It helped that I was a stay at home Mom with few morning commitments. Since being back in the UK, it's been much harder to settle into a satisfactory routine.

I've really only been able to average 3 runs a week. I've been pretty consistent with my long weekend runs because I don't want to lose that level of fitness, but fitting in my other runs has been tough.

This week is another 3 run week. Today I'm blaming a toddler who is not 100% well and waking more than once in the night. It's tough to get up for a 5am run when your sleep has been disturbed.

I wouldn't worry so much about running 3 times a week under most circumstances. After all, I am pregnant, have just managed a huge move, and have started a full time job, so a settling in period is expected. And I'm still managing 3 runs - I should celebrate that, right?!

But I can feel the effect it is having on my mood. And that terrifies me. Being realistic, I will not be able to run throughout this entire pregnancy. Issues with my pelvis started around 20 weeks of my last pregnancy. These led to difficulty walking and quite a bit of weight gain. I don't want that to happen again. It helps that I am much more fit and weigh quite a bit less.

But my biggest fear is that my mood will become erratic. I can already feel the grumpies creeping in and I hate that side of myself. When my motivation is waning, then, I'll have to use that as my motivation to just get up and go.

I got the inspiration to start this blog after submitting a piece about Why I Run to the Another Mother Runner Website. Here it is:

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I run for my physical and mental health. I run to set a good example for my son. And I run to get some time to myself and to clear my head.

I have a history of depression and anxiety - a long history involving years of therapy (both group and individual), medication, and even a short hospitalization. Medication and therapy worked really well for me, but when my husband and I were planning our family, I didn't want to be on medication while pregnant. After 10 years of being on psycho-pharmaceuticals, this was a bit daunting. So I gradually came off the medication with the support of therapy (sometimes twice weekly) and we became pregnant. And then we moved to Singapore.

Moving to the other side of the world is hard. Moving when 30 weeks pregnant is very hard. Moving with an anxiety and depressive disorder, leaving behind your 15-year profession to become a stay-at-home mom in a different culture is my recipe for disaster.

After giving birth to my son, I went through a pretty difficult period. It's hard to tease out how much of it was the normal post-baby craziness and how much of it was my own internal craziness. So I tried going to therapy. We even tried couples therapy. I toyed with going back on antidepressants, but I figured I had come this far that medication would feel like going backwards. And then I started running.

My weight has always been an issue and I have exercised on and off for years. I've never really been able to maintain it (my weight or the exercise). I think this is because the focus has always been on trying to get then. Now, my focus is staying sane and that makes a huge difference.

Being in a foreign country away from family without any help and with a husband working long hours and completing his MBA, I didn't have much time for the gym. So I went for walks. And gradually as I got stronger, my legs felt like running, so it became a morning routine my son and I would do: run a couple of miles and then let him out of the jogging stroller to run around himself.

I didn't realize how much of an impact running had on my mental health until I had to take a break from it after minor surgery. I felt sluggish, grouchy, and negative all the time. It took a few weeks to turn that around, but once I was running regularly again, I could see the difference. Maintaining my mental health without medication is a huge motivator. Training for races forces me to keep up with that consistency on my most negative days.

Since starting to run in Singapore, I have run one 5K, two 10Ks, a 12K, and three half-marathons. I have lost more than 50 pounds and my mental health has greatly improved. My last half-marathon was my first race when I truly felt like a runner. My pace is pretty slow, especially in this Singapore humidity, but I am strong. When everyone else started slowing down at the halfway point, I kept going.  I took seven minutes off my personal best and completed the race with negative splits. It was the first time I really felt worthy of the label "runner".

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Since writing the above post, I have discovered that I am pregnant, moved back to the UK, and started back at full-time work after three years.

With all this going on, I need to keep running. I'm hoping this blog will keep me accountable.