An important concept in bicycle racing is the idea of "do not panic". Bike races can be long, and a lot can happen. Riders, get flats, get dropped, get flats, maybe crash, and sometimes they have to stop and pee. Whatever the case, it can result in a rider being off the back of the race. It is tempting for a racer to jump back onto the bike and ride as hard as possible, and if and when he gets back on the main group or "peloton", he has nothing left in the tank. Smart racers race tactically. They find other racers trying to get back into the race and they work together to slowly reel in the main body of racers. It takes time and smarts, but if done right, they get back in the race and aren't completely drained of every ounce of energy.
Well, today as predicted in my last entry, I came down with the flu. Actually last night, but today I felt terrible with a 100+ fever, chills, aches, and the whole nine yards. My little five year old boy has the flu too (he gifted it to me), so we are both out of action and he calls us "sick buddies".
Yesterday, I did get my initial ride in with 37 miles completed, and I actually felt good, but with no riding today, I am now 23 miles in the hole. Not too bad actually. Remember, I have all year to do the 11,000 miles and I don't have to make up all the miles at once. Also, the 30 mile a day average is just that, an average. Throw in a few 100+ miles rides throughout the year, and some races and brevets (I'll talk about what those are some other time) and the miles will be made up. I actually won't be in emergency mode until I get to 500 miles in the hole, and I don't plan on that happening!
But, what comes to mind immediately is that applies in a bicycle race can apply to life. Things happen that put us behind the eight ball. The key, is again, don't panic. Having a support system of friends, allies, and supporters can see us through those times when it seems like the goal just can't be reached. It can be reached, but asking for, and using help is what it takes. It's not being weak. It's being smart.
Now, back to getting well. Still not out of the woods!
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
Monday, December 31, 2012
He we go!
Tomorrow, it all begins. I am at the same time apprehensive, excited, and hopeful for what this adventure and mission will bring. Today, a reporter from a local television station came by the house to interview me about my coming out about my depression and the bike mileage goal for the year. I wasn't concerned about the public aspect of it, per se. That's what this is all about after all, but at the same time, there isn't any backing out now. When you have a full time job, a little kid, and any number of things that come up, carving out time to make 11,000 riding miles is no small task. But, when this task is done, I am hoping that any doubt about what someone with depression or any other kind of mental illness can do is wiped away. That being said, I am worried...
Here is the deal. My five year old has the flu. Not a cold, but a for sure diagnosed case of the F-L-U. He's got the whole she-bang -- fever, coughing, aches, runny/stuffy nose, and lethargy. Now, going back to the idea that in order to make 11,000 miles, I need to do about 30 miles a day without fail, if I get the flu, one of two things will happen. One, ride with the flu. Lying in bed with the flu is bad enough. Pedaling a bike with the flu is sheer misery, and I can image what manner of excretions from my face I'll be dealing with. Not pretty. The second option is skip days and stay in bed, but what that means is then I have to make up the miles, meaning those miles need to be made up somewhere, so monster miles would be looming. I don't want to get behind the curve right from the start, that's for sure.
I like option three. Option three is I don't get the flu, and somehow this strain is one in which I got a vaccination earlier in the year. You see, this year, I didn't get a shot, because I'm one of those hard heads who believes that the flu shot makes me sick. In fact, last year, after I got the needle, I was feeling awful for about a month and a half. Making a quick comparison, it seems like a better deal to be flattened for a week than to feel blah for over a month. Do I have a scientific explanation for last year's cruddy feeling? Nope. Just my take, but bottom line is I didn't get a flu shot this year and I am currently three feet from a child version of a giant germ who wants to, more than ever, give kisses and hugs and share food. My immune system is probably at Def-con 5.
So, tomorrow I have 30 miles on the schedule, and maybe a few more. I am hoping, really hoping that the ride is a mundane, non-eventful trip, and not a monumental challenge day one. I know, in fact am betting, that there will be some tremendously difficult days, because let's face it, those are interesting and meaningful to write about. Just not tomorrow, and not involving the flu.
Oh, and just a reminder, with each blog hereafter and through 2013, I will post a link to my online bike journal and twitter account for more information sharing for anyone interested, or just really, really bored.
So, here we go, and by the way - Happy New Year!
Here is the deal. My five year old has the flu. Not a cold, but a for sure diagnosed case of the F-L-U. He's got the whole she-bang -- fever, coughing, aches, runny/stuffy nose, and lethargy. Now, going back to the idea that in order to make 11,000 miles, I need to do about 30 miles a day without fail, if I get the flu, one of two things will happen. One, ride with the flu. Lying in bed with the flu is bad enough. Pedaling a bike with the flu is sheer misery, and I can image what manner of excretions from my face I'll be dealing with. Not pretty. The second option is skip days and stay in bed, but what that means is then I have to make up the miles, meaning those miles need to be made up somewhere, so monster miles would be looming. I don't want to get behind the curve right from the start, that's for sure.
I like option three. Option three is I don't get the flu, and somehow this strain is one in which I got a vaccination earlier in the year. You see, this year, I didn't get a shot, because I'm one of those hard heads who believes that the flu shot makes me sick. In fact, last year, after I got the needle, I was feeling awful for about a month and a half. Making a quick comparison, it seems like a better deal to be flattened for a week than to feel blah for over a month. Do I have a scientific explanation for last year's cruddy feeling? Nope. Just my take, but bottom line is I didn't get a flu shot this year and I am currently three feet from a child version of a giant germ who wants to, more than ever, give kisses and hugs and share food. My immune system is probably at Def-con 5.
So, tomorrow I have 30 miles on the schedule, and maybe a few more. I am hoping, really hoping that the ride is a mundane, non-eventful trip, and not a monumental challenge day one. I know, in fact am betting, that there will be some tremendously difficult days, because let's face it, those are interesting and meaningful to write about. Just not tomorrow, and not involving the flu.
Oh, and just a reminder, with each blog hereafter and through 2013, I will post a link to my online bike journal and twitter account for more information sharing for anyone interested, or just really, really bored.
So, here we go, and by the way - Happy New Year!
Saturday, December 29, 2012
I'm not riding today...
I'm not riding today.
Today is not a day for riding. It is not a day for me. It is not a day for getting exercise, training, wearing Spandex and riding bikes. It is a day about support for someone I love. It is a day of strength, reflection, and without a doubt, plain old heart crushing grief. Today, I am the support system.
Six years ago today, my wife's son, who I have taken as my stepson, Matthew Beard, died of injuries sustained by a drunk driver who slammed into his car he was riding in on I-95 in West Palm Beach, FL. For Connie, the holidays mean revisiting the horror of learning her only son had been in a crash on December 21st, 2006, and spending the next week in Delray Beach Medical Center Trauma ICU as her son, never recovering from his crash induced coma, slowly slipped into death. Each day she kept vigil by his side. Each day she prayed for him to open his eyes. Every day, when the nurses allowed her to, she spoke to him and sang to him. He could hear her, she knew that, as when she would quietly and gently sing "Arms of an Angel" to him, tears would stream down his cheeks. He knew she was there. Mom was with him.
She was there when the doctors told her that her boy was "brain dead" on December 27th, and that she would need to give the order to stop the life support machines. She couldn't do it. She couldn't kill her son. Matt knew that she couldn't do it. He did it for her, and on December 29th, 2006, at 12:33 a.m., he died, on his own.
So, I'm not riding today.
Today, I reached over to Connie in our warm bed and cuddled with her and held her. I am making her breakfast this morning and some tea, I think. Today, I just need to be here with her. I know I cannot take the pain away, and I can't bring Matt back, but I can make sure that Connie is not alone in her grief, especially not today.
I often talk about depending on others to support those of us who have a mental illness to help us be strong and get well or better. It is in times such as this, with Connie, that also speak to the importance to taking care of ourselves and getting help when we need it. It is not only to help us in our own struggle, but when we are needed, and we are the ones whom others need to lean upon, we can be strong enough to be there for the ones we love. Today, I am the one who is the pillar and the shoulder to cry upon. Those who have helped me, supported me, and given me strength couldn't have fathomed that when they prompted me to seek help, that they would ultimately help support a mother whose only son was abruptly taken through a senseless and preventable crime. The lesson here it that those who are in need can and will become those who are needed, and caring, support, and compassion for others is in the end, the foundation upon which we find our own strength.
That's why I'm not riding today.
If you are so inclined, light at candle for Matt at:
http://matthew-beard.last-memories.com/
Today is not a day for riding. It is not a day for me. It is not a day for getting exercise, training, wearing Spandex and riding bikes. It is a day about support for someone I love. It is a day of strength, reflection, and without a doubt, plain old heart crushing grief. Today, I am the support system.
Six years ago today, my wife's son, who I have taken as my stepson, Matthew Beard, died of injuries sustained by a drunk driver who slammed into his car he was riding in on I-95 in West Palm Beach, FL. For Connie, the holidays mean revisiting the horror of learning her only son had been in a crash on December 21st, 2006, and spending the next week in Delray Beach Medical Center Trauma ICU as her son, never recovering from his crash induced coma, slowly slipped into death. Each day she kept vigil by his side. Each day she prayed for him to open his eyes. Every day, when the nurses allowed her to, she spoke to him and sang to him. He could hear her, she knew that, as when she would quietly and gently sing "Arms of an Angel" to him, tears would stream down his cheeks. He knew she was there. Mom was with him.
She was there when the doctors told her that her boy was "brain dead" on December 27th, and that she would need to give the order to stop the life support machines. She couldn't do it. She couldn't kill her son. Matt knew that she couldn't do it. He did it for her, and on December 29th, 2006, at 12:33 a.m., he died, on his own.
So, I'm not riding today.
Today, I reached over to Connie in our warm bed and cuddled with her and held her. I am making her breakfast this morning and some tea, I think. Today, I just need to be here with her. I know I cannot take the pain away, and I can't bring Matt back, but I can make sure that Connie is not alone in her grief, especially not today.
I often talk about depending on others to support those of us who have a mental illness to help us be strong and get well or better. It is in times such as this, with Connie, that also speak to the importance to taking care of ourselves and getting help when we need it. It is not only to help us in our own struggle, but when we are needed, and we are the ones whom others need to lean upon, we can be strong enough to be there for the ones we love. Today, I am the one who is the pillar and the shoulder to cry upon. Those who have helped me, supported me, and given me strength couldn't have fathomed that when they prompted me to seek help, that they would ultimately help support a mother whose only son was abruptly taken through a senseless and preventable crime. The lesson here it that those who are in need can and will become those who are needed, and caring, support, and compassion for others is in the end, the foundation upon which we find our own strength.
That's why I'm not riding today.
If you are so inclined, light at candle for Matt at:
http://matthew-beard.last-memories.com/
Saturday, December 22, 2012
Just Bike Stuff
Well, it has been a whirlwind week between the tragedy in Newtown, CT and all of the positions about guns, mental illness, Constitutional rights, etc. Frankly, it was exhausting, and I had to turn the TV off after about three days of constant horror on the news. Secondly, I have a five year old, and in my opinion, he doesn't need to know anything about that. I was quite happy to have Tom and Jerry and Scooby Doo filling the screen. That being said, that's about all I'm going to say about that. I'm going to talk about cycling.
I have a lot of riding to do.
You see, 2013 is shaping up to be a big year not just regarding my goal to ride 11,000 miles over the course of the year, but with other events looming in the near future. In February, I am returning to ultra-racing with a twelve hour race in Sebring, Florida at Bike Sebring 12/24. Thus far, everything is set up. The hotel, rental car, jerseys and equipment, bike, and registration are all ready to go. The only teensy, tiny, little factor is me. With less than 2 months to go, I am definitely not in race shape. It is certainly doable, but it is going to take me becoming a social monk while I spend seemingly every moment I have to spare on the bike. Ultra-races aren't necessarily fast, but they do require your body to be accustomed to enjoying pain over a ridiculous amount of time. An ultra-cyclist is of the mindset where pain in the feet, butt, back, shoulders, legs, elbows, neck, and well, everything, is considered "normal". Add on to that the joys of nausea and nice things like acid reflux (from being hunched over on the bike so long), and you get the picture that it is important to train your body to put up with it.
So far, I've had some good training time, with the last two rides being back to back cold excursions of sub 40 degree weather (don't laugh northern friends -- this is Florida!). I actually prefer bad conditions for bike training, as I picture all the competition staying inside warm and snug while I knock out some miles. I know this isn't the case, and I know I can't train with the hope the competition will be unprepared. In fact, I have to train like the competition will come to the race prepared for the best race of their lives. Truth is, I know some of those animals, and for all my bike love, they could be classified as plain obsessed with their rides. Like, sick obsessed, where they post on Facebook that they had a "nice 147 mile ride with friends" the other day and enjoyed some hot chocolate afterwards. I would much rather they say, "Suffered in a living hell, then puked my guts out". That's dreaming though.
Anyway, that's not all of the bike saga. In April, I will be on board again as the ride director for the GEICO Road Safety Bicycle Tour. That's a 4 day, 400 mile bike ride around Florida to promote traffic safety awareness to Florida drivers. This is the 5th year of such a tour and we plan on having the biggest team yet with about 15 riders and 10 crew. The team is made up of very Type-A personalities and very accomplished athletes, who are also stakeholders in the traffic safety arena. Yes, of course, we all are stakeholders if we use the roads in any capacity, but these folks have a particular nexus. They are cops, firefighters, doctors, crash survivors, and parents/loved ones of people killed and injured in crashes. It all becomes a very emotional and mission driven event with a LOT of moving parts. Currently, we are coordinating team selections, press event locations, and partner-agency participation. It is a months-long endeavor and almost feels like a second job. It's a great second job, but more and more in the back of my mind I know that there is some point that I will need to hand it off to someone else or let it go. You see, this one is my baby, and this spring it will be nearly 10 years since I first conceptualized it and began to beg around for support. Ultimately, I'd like to take the team to RAAM (Race Across AMerica), but geez, I can feel the bones getting tired on this particular corner of the bike world. We'll see how long we keep the wheels turning on this one!
I have a lot of riding to do.
You see, 2013 is shaping up to be a big year not just regarding my goal to ride 11,000 miles over the course of the year, but with other events looming in the near future. In February, I am returning to ultra-racing with a twelve hour race in Sebring, Florida at Bike Sebring 12/24. Thus far, everything is set up. The hotel, rental car, jerseys and equipment, bike, and registration are all ready to go. The only teensy, tiny, little factor is me. With less than 2 months to go, I am definitely not in race shape. It is certainly doable, but it is going to take me becoming a social monk while I spend seemingly every moment I have to spare on the bike. Ultra-races aren't necessarily fast, but they do require your body to be accustomed to enjoying pain over a ridiculous amount of time. An ultra-cyclist is of the mindset where pain in the feet, butt, back, shoulders, legs, elbows, neck, and well, everything, is considered "normal". Add on to that the joys of nausea and nice things like acid reflux (from being hunched over on the bike so long), and you get the picture that it is important to train your body to put up with it.
So far, I've had some good training time, with the last two rides being back to back cold excursions of sub 40 degree weather (don't laugh northern friends -- this is Florida!). I actually prefer bad conditions for bike training, as I picture all the competition staying inside warm and snug while I knock out some miles. I know this isn't the case, and I know I can't train with the hope the competition will be unprepared. In fact, I have to train like the competition will come to the race prepared for the best race of their lives. Truth is, I know some of those animals, and for all my bike love, they could be classified as plain obsessed with their rides. Like, sick obsessed, where they post on Facebook that they had a "nice 147 mile ride with friends" the other day and enjoyed some hot chocolate afterwards. I would much rather they say, "Suffered in a living hell, then puked my guts out". That's dreaming though.
Anyway, that's not all of the bike saga. In April, I will be on board again as the ride director for the GEICO Road Safety Bicycle Tour. That's a 4 day, 400 mile bike ride around Florida to promote traffic safety awareness to Florida drivers. This is the 5th year of such a tour and we plan on having the biggest team yet with about 15 riders and 10 crew. The team is made up of very Type-A personalities and very accomplished athletes, who are also stakeholders in the traffic safety arena. Yes, of course, we all are stakeholders if we use the roads in any capacity, but these folks have a particular nexus. They are cops, firefighters, doctors, crash survivors, and parents/loved ones of people killed and injured in crashes. It all becomes a very emotional and mission driven event with a LOT of moving parts. Currently, we are coordinating team selections, press event locations, and partner-agency participation. It is a months-long endeavor and almost feels like a second job. It's a great second job, but more and more in the back of my mind I know that there is some point that I will need to hand it off to someone else or let it go. You see, this one is my baby, and this spring it will be nearly 10 years since I first conceptualized it and began to beg around for support. Ultimately, I'd like to take the team to RAAM (Race Across AMerica), but geez, I can feel the bones getting tired on this particular corner of the bike world. We'll see how long we keep the wheels turning on this one!
Pic from the 2012 tour -- I watched rear-ends mile after mile...
So, while the whole meaning behind this blog really isn't about bikes, it is at the same time, set upon a stage built on cycling. To me, cycling has provided me a philanthropic outlet to make a difference in the things that are important to me, and I guess you could say that I have discovered my therapy. As a matter of personal advice, I would definitely recommend that anyone who is in the fight against mental illness of any kind, to use the things you love to do as a means to step away from the struggle and give yourself the gift of recreation. Even better, use your gift to yourself as a way to give to others. Take it from me, it does a lot to make one feel better.
Time to go. I have to get some sleep. Riding in the morning.
Sunday, December 16, 2012
What Matters
I am looking forward to tomorrow. It's when I get my little boy for the week. He is five years old and in kindergarten.
It goes without saying that like other parents, I have been greatly affected by the tragedy in Newtown, CT. For me, the most terrible picture I have in my head is the unspeakable fear that those precious little children must have felt with a killer unmercifully gunning them down. The feelings I have are broad, ranging from sadness, anger, and disgust. I am also not a big fan of those who would be quick to politicize the issue in order to push their own agendas. Frankly, it is my believe that most solutions that are offered and much too simple when compared against the complexities of human social interaction. I do not think the answers are found in quick and simple legislation. I am far more confident in the work of sociologists, criminologists, and psychologists, who are not swayed by the next election, but by facts and truth. They have a monumental task ahead of them.
For now, what I wanted to say is, with the immense amount of pain and sadness being conveyed over the news, social media, and other outlets, it is important, especially to those of us susceptible to triggers for depression, PTSD, and other afflictions, to take time to take care of ourselves. That is not to say put the recent events out of our minds, because we can't nor should we. But, it is vital to take time to enjoy time with your kids, spend an hour or two doing something you love, or visit an old friend. A friend of mine recently went to the beach with his family. Today, I rode my bike. Others may read, workout, paint, or go for a nice drive. Whatever the case may be, it is not a matter of "taking a break" but a means of strengthening ourselves to maintain our ability to function and perform and be strong for those who may be having a rougher time.
Having a mental illness is no fun, but for many it is very treatable, and it does not mean a person with a mental affliction is weak. It means he or she must take the time to take care of themselves. From there, we are in a position of strength to allow others, experiencing their own, new and acute mental anguish to lean on us. We understand how much we need to rely on the support of loved ones and friends, so we are ready, willing, and able to return the favor.
Lean on me. Lean on us. We have some experience in pain and uncertainty and we are in the fight.
Finally, if the recent events have made you feel in a very low place, and you feel alone and someone to talk to, friend is waiting for your at 800-273-TALK. Give them a call -- lean on them.
It goes without saying that like other parents, I have been greatly affected by the tragedy in Newtown, CT. For me, the most terrible picture I have in my head is the unspeakable fear that those precious little children must have felt with a killer unmercifully gunning them down. The feelings I have are broad, ranging from sadness, anger, and disgust. I am also not a big fan of those who would be quick to politicize the issue in order to push their own agendas. Frankly, it is my believe that most solutions that are offered and much too simple when compared against the complexities of human social interaction. I do not think the answers are found in quick and simple legislation. I am far more confident in the work of sociologists, criminologists, and psychologists, who are not swayed by the next election, but by facts and truth. They have a monumental task ahead of them.
For now, what I wanted to say is, with the immense amount of pain and sadness being conveyed over the news, social media, and other outlets, it is important, especially to those of us susceptible to triggers for depression, PTSD, and other afflictions, to take time to take care of ourselves. That is not to say put the recent events out of our minds, because we can't nor should we. But, it is vital to take time to enjoy time with your kids, spend an hour or two doing something you love, or visit an old friend. A friend of mine recently went to the beach with his family. Today, I rode my bike. Others may read, workout, paint, or go for a nice drive. Whatever the case may be, it is not a matter of "taking a break" but a means of strengthening ourselves to maintain our ability to function and perform and be strong for those who may be having a rougher time.
Having a mental illness is no fun, but for many it is very treatable, and it does not mean a person with a mental affliction is weak. It means he or she must take the time to take care of themselves. From there, we are in a position of strength to allow others, experiencing their own, new and acute mental anguish to lean on us. We understand how much we need to rely on the support of loved ones and friends, so we are ready, willing, and able to return the favor.
Lean on me. Lean on us. We have some experience in pain and uncertainty and we are in the fight.
Finally, if the recent events have made you feel in a very low place, and you feel alone and someone to talk to, friend is waiting for your at 800-273-TALK. Give them a call -- lean on them.
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Winnie the Pooh and an Address Book
Tonight I was reminded of the possibility that my address book may change, and it fact, it may be changing even now, without my knowledge. One of the things that I was keenly aware of when I became outspoken about my depression was the fact that not everyone may be understanding nor amicable to the idea of associating with (or dealing with) someone with a mental illness. Oh, and by the way, I don't shy away from the term "mental illness" either. My depression is not a "condition" or "issue" or feeling. It is a serious disease, and let's face it, some people are uncomfortable being around those of us who are saddled with an affliction. That's sad, because they don't need to be afraid or uncomfortable. I'm not, nor have I ever been dangerous to anyone else. I've never exposed anyone else to peril, and in fact, in serious situations where I am a decision maker, my disease and personality actually provide me with a unique analytical perspective on cause and effect. I don't approach life in an overly optimistic sense, but I am not fatalistic either. I am a realist. And, by the way, depression doesn't make one stupid either.
What depression does do, is turn one inward on his or herself, and without going deeply into the symptoms and nastiness of the thing, to make a long story short, people in a depressive episode are no fun. Picture Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh. Except this Eeyore is not only morose, he is also irritable, snappy, finds himself apologizing a lot, and becoming more and more isolation in actuality and perceptions.
In a Winnie the Pooh story, Pooh and Piglet and Roo would rally around Eeyore and at the end of the story, they would all go to Rabbit's house for carrot pie and honey. In reality, Pooh and the gang may get tired of Eeyore and stop calling or coming around. Eeyore becomes more and more socially removed, and he is alone with his thoughts, despair, and hopelessness. Eeyore may turn to alcohol, or drugs, or some other self-medicating, and/or self-destructive activity. The poor grey ass spirals and eventually he dies, except for...
Tigger. Forgot about him didn't you? And Owl, and Christopher Robin. Heck, even some characters we don't even know yet. Eeyore's address book changes. Those that were friends may drift away, fatigued of their friend, and those friends who are full of energy, or wisdom, or compassion emerge into a new paradigm and a new dynamic that accepts an Eeyore that is, in their eyes, more than his disease.
I'm not afraid to have my address book change. If friends turn away, or what I previously perceived as opportunity, or career goals, or more, then so be it. Is it fun? No. I am not saying that I relish the thought. But I also know that all of those I have in my life and all those that I have close to me I want close to me because they accept me for who I am. I don't want friends to associate with me because of who they think I should be, or because they think they can cure me, or because they just think it is a noble thing to do. The friends that I have I want to have because they love me not despite of, but through my illness. When someone is willing to work a little at polishing brass, it gleams brighter the more you stick with it. Leave it alone and it goes dull.
I have grown to appreciate all the support and love I have received from those friends, family, and colleagues and support me for who I am, and because of this, I am all the more motivated to stick with those I know who suffer as well from mental illness. I know that the work I put in for others pays dividends beyond measure, and I want my friends to know that to me, and to others perhaps yet to be entered into "contacts" that they are worth all the polish and elbow grease in the world. The resulting glow is what, in turn, brightens my world.
If my address book is to change, then let it change. I need to make room for Tigger.
What depression does do, is turn one inward on his or herself, and without going deeply into the symptoms and nastiness of the thing, to make a long story short, people in a depressive episode are no fun. Picture Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh. Except this Eeyore is not only morose, he is also irritable, snappy, finds himself apologizing a lot, and becoming more and more isolation in actuality and perceptions.
In a Winnie the Pooh story, Pooh and Piglet and Roo would rally around Eeyore and at the end of the story, they would all go to Rabbit's house for carrot pie and honey. In reality, Pooh and the gang may get tired of Eeyore and stop calling or coming around. Eeyore becomes more and more socially removed, and he is alone with his thoughts, despair, and hopelessness. Eeyore may turn to alcohol, or drugs, or some other self-medicating, and/or self-destructive activity. The poor grey ass spirals and eventually he dies, except for...
Tigger. Forgot about him didn't you? And Owl, and Christopher Robin. Heck, even some characters we don't even know yet. Eeyore's address book changes. Those that were friends may drift away, fatigued of their friend, and those friends who are full of energy, or wisdom, or compassion emerge into a new paradigm and a new dynamic that accepts an Eeyore that is, in their eyes, more than his disease.
I'm not afraid to have my address book change. If friends turn away, or what I previously perceived as opportunity, or career goals, or more, then so be it. Is it fun? No. I am not saying that I relish the thought. But I also know that all of those I have in my life and all those that I have close to me I want close to me because they accept me for who I am. I don't want friends to associate with me because of who they think I should be, or because they think they can cure me, or because they just think it is a noble thing to do. The friends that I have I want to have because they love me not despite of, but through my illness. When someone is willing to work a little at polishing brass, it gleams brighter the more you stick with it. Leave it alone and it goes dull.
I have grown to appreciate all the support and love I have received from those friends, family, and colleagues and support me for who I am, and because of this, I am all the more motivated to stick with those I know who suffer as well from mental illness. I know that the work I put in for others pays dividends beyond measure, and I want my friends to know that to me, and to others perhaps yet to be entered into "contacts" that they are worth all the polish and elbow grease in the world. The resulting glow is what, in turn, brightens my world.
If my address book is to change, then let it change. I need to make room for Tigger.
Monday, December 10, 2012
Little Goals
Some days are harder than others, and it is becoming more and more apparent the magnitude of the commitment I have made. In a nutshell, to make 11,000 miles in a year, I will have to ride, without fail, 30 miles a day, every day, for 365 days. Now of course, there are some days that I simply won't be able to ride. Work may dictate my schedule, and I have a five year old, and he comes first. But, that will simply mean that if I miss a ride, I will need to make the following rides longer or I will have to "bank" miles by doing longer rides prior to an anticipated day off from riding. This last Saturday, I scoped out a 15 mile route that I plan on riding in mornings before work for about an hour (5am-6am) daily. Add on longer weekend rides, some ultra-races (12/24hrs), 100 milers, and commuting, and the numbers are very doable.
Physically, that is.
You see, depression has a way of pushing you away from the things you love -- family, friends, and things you love to do, and I love cycling. Sure, my depression is treated, and I am waaaaay better off than when I was undiagnosed. However, depression isn't something that gets squashed and you never hear from it again as long as you take your medication. It lingers just below the surface and as emotions and environmental factors ebb and flow, it has a tendency to peek its head up above the surface and remind you that it is still there.
That was the case last Saturday. I didn't want to ride my bike. I didn't have anything else to do. I just didn't want to ride and the whole idea of getting into my bike clothes with the stupid little colors and the stupid Spandex, and those ridiculous shoes just seemed like a complete exercise in frivolity. It seemed like such a better idea to go take a nap and, I dunno, waste time on Facebook. On top of that, I felt snappy, and just irritable. Blah.
Yet, I've learned a lot about this disease, and I know how to recognize when it is exhibiting itself, and more importantly, how to give it a good smack down from time to time.
Here I was, needing to get on the bike to ride (I have a race in February -- need to train!), but not wanting to get my butt on the saddle. So, I initiated the "gift" strategy. The gift strategy is a little trick I play on my mind to get myself training, but with a limited perceived goal. Something easily attainable that makes that negative little influence have very little to protest. So, I told myself that I would ride, but only ride 5 miles. That's nothing, and amounts to about 20 minutes of riding. Of course, you know the ending to this story... Once I am out riding and on the bike, 5 miles gives way to 10, then finally 17 miles for the day. Not a record setting distance, but a good hour workout and much better than taking a nap. Although, I do have to say, depression or not, I do like naps. Happy naps though, not depressed naps.
Moral of the story? Well, it applies to really anyone who needs a little extra motivation to do something physical. When you know you need to train, workout, or just work on something, whittle the mountain down to a mole hill and reduce the size of the goal to something you can wrap your mind around. No, limiting the goal doesn't mean nap time, but what it does mean is make the goal look and feel like something easy. Once you get started, you will almost certainly do more than you planned, and every minute and every mile you go beyond your goal, the more you succeed beyond your expectations. That is awesome therapy and a great positive moment to put a heel onto whatever is trying to demotivate you.
Little goals can lead to big successes. Score one for perseverance.
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