I did a race the other day. I know! Gawsworth, a special place. But I wasn't racing anyone, no angst about who I had to beat or who might be chasing me down. No points to earn or prove, no Strava willly wagging, no one to question and only answerable to myself. It was just a run, a run with lots of people I didn't know and at a place where I did my first ever race back in the day...a place that has many memories. But I was anxious. I did have things on my mind, but my recent issue is that I've not really been in control of what those things are. Depression.
There, I've written it down. It's been a while coming. Taking advice from every Tom, Dick and Harriet, I went to the Dr's...and readily accepted the advised course of anti-depressants and encouraged to weather the side effects. Routine morning sickness, constant dizziness, pounding headaches, sleepless nights, red hot legs, head zaps and a mind that wasn't my own...I tried hard to ride the storm, taking the view these things were not real...just side effects. It worked, almost...except for one. An irregular heart rate dipping in to the low 30's at rest.
I thought it would almost stop and everytime I'd stand up there was a period when I wasn't really there. Blackouts. And then when running, which I was told to continue "because it's good for your mental health", I'd feel on occasions I was going to explode as it spiked randomly to over 200 now and then. And all of this has been freaking me out. Back at the Docs, he wasn't happy and told me to stop taking the pills "immediately". No prescribed gradual reduction in dose, just to stop because the heart rate irregularity and the ECG I had were not normal.
Now it's blood tests and follow-up ECG's while I combat "mood crashes". And these are the things that played on my mind during my race at Gawsworth...and everytime I run and indeed at most other times in between. And yet I'm glad I went to the Dr's. I needed to. I have continued to run and also to walk. I've been walking a lot trying to find peace. I spend a lot of time in The Carrs. It's a beautiful place. Most of my runs start and end here. As a small town park, it offers wonderful isolation or a thriving hubbub depending on when you're there.
I often come here to sit, listen to my own thoughts or watch others ignore theirs. I've laid on the grass gazing up at deep blue skies, run at night on crisp virgin snow. I've seen morning mist in the hollows and a dipping sunset late at night. The path has been illuminated by sunshine, puddles or moonlight, my head torch or following the heels of others. I've dined on breakfast, lunch and dinner here, but mostly am consumed by and consume on the sweetest fresh air. And there are park benches aplenty, and seemingly one I favour above others. Every bench has a story.
