Hugh Hollowell

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Running for my life.

This essay published February 20, 2019

Back in 2017, when my depression was at it’s worst, I was running nearly every day. And it helped. I am pretty sure it kept me alive, actually.

See, I am someone who feels things in my body. (Insert weird joke here). No, seriously. If I am stressed, my body hurts. If I am tired, all my joints ache. If I am excited, it can be hard to breathe. My mental state and my physical state are pretty well connected. I know this – in fact, I have always known this. (If you are into Enneagram stuff, I am an 8 with a strong 9 wing, which are both body types. )

So, if I want to change my mental state, the fastest way for me to do that is to change my physical state. If I am not physically active, if I am not getting endorphins flowing through my bloodstream, if I don’t get my heart pumping, then mentally I pay a pretty severe price.

Note: This doesn’t mean I enjoy exercise. I do not. It bores me to tears. But I pay the price, mentally and emotionally, when I don’t do it.

Which brings us to February, 20, of 2018.

That’s right – this same day last year.  On that day, I went for a run.

I was running pretty regular through 2017, at the height of my depression. But in the fall of 17, I went on depression medication, which helped with the effects of the depression, but also meant the risk was less if I skipped a couple of days of running. And then it got cold. I hate being cold, so I would go to the gym and run on a treadmill, but I hate running on treadmills too. So, over the winter my mileage was way down.

But a year ago today, I ran. It was a good run.

But then a bunch of things happened.

We announced we were moving. Suddenly, everyone wanted to hang out. And we put our house up for sale, but it needed a new roof. So, I put a new roof on the house, which is very physical (and exhausting) work. Then we moved.

And we lived in a tiny apartment for months while we waited for our house to sell, and then we bought a house and then we did a bunch of renovations and then we moved again.

I was busy and in chaos. And while that is when I should have been exercising the most, it was actually the reason I gave for not doing it. And then one day I woke up and it had been a year since I ran.

It was 55 degrees today. The rain had (briefly) stopped. I live in a new house, in a nice, easily runnable neighborhood. I had unpacked the box that had my running gear in it, so I know where everything was.

In short, I was out of excuses. So, I ran.

It was slow. Painfull. Awkward. A little less than 2 miles.

But I ran.

The key now is to do it again. And then again. And again.

 

Running as Therapy

This essay published June 14, 2017

New shoes for a new year of #running races. @adidas #knitwear #boost

It was Tuesday at 7:00AM, and I put on my shorts, laced up my shoes and hit the road. I would run the trails by my house, covering 2 and a half miles by the time I was done.

I don’t like to run. But I like to have ran. I like the feeling of sweat all over my body. I like the warmth in my muscles, the rush of blood pulsing in my veins. I feel the tension I carry in my neck and back melt away, and I feel myself getting stronger every time I do it.

Earlier this week, I turned 45. Over the last year, I have lost 40 pounds, and could still stand to lose another 40. But I haven’t really exercised at all. Oh, I belonged to a gym, where I paid $25 a month for more than three years, but I seldom went. I would get a routine going, but then would go out of town for work, or I would get busy at work, or any number of things, and then I would break the habit and the next thing you know, it has been six weeks since I have been to the gym and my pants are tight again.

When I was in the Marines, I routinely ran 5 miles a day or so. I was never the fastest thing – my thick ankles and bull neck prevented that – but I was sturdy and dependable. I once ran 10 miles in combat boots, and pretty routinely knocked out 5K races in 28 minutes or so.

That was also 26 years and 60 pounds ago.

But I am at my best when I am moving. As an eight on the enneagram, I tend to carry stress in my body, and kinesthetic is my preferred learning style. I often don’t know something until I do it with my body. Moving is important to me.

I was fairly physically active most of my adult life in a middling sort of way. I played golf with clients when I worked for New York Life, and I lifted heavy weights in the gym and would fight the onset of middle age spread by peddling an exercise bike until my ass was numb. When I moved to Raleigh in 2007, my primary exercise was walking – I regularly walked more than 5 miles a day for the first several years I was here.

And then in fall of 2010, I had a motorcycle accident, breaking my collarbone, putting me on my ass for three months. I gained a lot of weight, and my activity levels never recovered.

Back in February, I realized I needed a physical outlet. Not to lose weight, or even for health purposes, but to have a physical outlet that I would be able to keep up with. That I could do anywhere, any time. That would not cost much money, and that had an easy learning curve and that I could do by myself.

So I began to run again.

I bought some good shoes – they cost about as much as six months at the gym, but I wasn’t actually going to the gym anyway, and this way, I would at least get a pair of shoes out of the deal.

I did the couch to 5K thing for a while, but it moved faster than my body wanted to, so I settled for cycles of a 2 minute run and a 30 second walk. And I do that over and over until I am done for the day, and I do that a couple of times a week and have done for months now.

I think it’s a habit now. I know I feel worse when I skip a day, and antsy if I skip two of them.  And I give myself permission to listen to my body and move slowly if I need to on a particular day, or even knock off early if I just am not feeling it. Because this time, I am running just for me.

Writer. Pastor. Friend.

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