Running can do a lot of things but it’s not a treatment
Running is often talked of as a salve for mental health. And it is. But there are limits. Running is not counselling. Running is not treatment.
And sometimes the answer is deeper than just going out for a run.
For me, running is an important part of how I keep things in perspective, and as a way of keeping me fit and healthy, I reckon it can’t be beaten.
And I know from personal experience how much it can help deal with life’s curveballs.
When my dad died unexpectedly from heart problems 14 years ago and I was struggling to come to terms with it, it was good to get out and run, just to be somewhere I could scream and cry and talk to myself (and him – sometimes, I swear I could hear his footsteps on the pathway behind me).
I’d come back with snot and tears streaked down my face, looking worse but feeling better.
Another time, when I went through a redundancy, I found running was the only time I could actually let go of the pretence that everything was fine.
The first time I realised this,
it came on suddenly, in the middle of a race. I was slugging up a hill, and it just never seemed to end. It was like I was being weighed down and there was no way I could get to the top.
And then I understood: I actually was weighed down, carrying all the emotional baggage and anger about what was happening.
Until then, I’d just been trying to put on a brave face, pretending like everything was ok.
It was good to get out and run, just to be somewhere I could scream and cry and talk to myself (and him). Eugene Bingham on how he dealt with the sudden death of his dad.
But at that moment (and at other times over the next little while), I realised that when I was running, I could let the weight of everything I was going through sink in, and in acknowledging that, it helped me start offloading it.
So I can definitely say running has been a great help to my mental health.
But there are times when you need to get help, the kind of help that doesn’t come from lacing up your shoes.
And there are times when, as friends, we need to recognise that people in our lives need help and we need to not be afraid to step in and ask if they’re OK.
One of the things that got me thinking about this was an interview I heard with trail running phenomenon Rob Krar, on the Billy Yang Podcast. Krar spoke to film-maker and podcaster Yang in an extraordinarily candid conversation about the depression he suffers and the depths it has taken him to.
It reminded me that what you see on the surface may not be the reality. You know how it goes: ‘‘Oh, but, he’s Rob Krar, a sponsored athlete, living the dream, winning races, and eating up trails – he couldn’t possibly be depressed.’’ Well, guess what? The black dog never strays far from his porch.
The beauty of running on the trails is that it often opens up conversations with your mates you wouldn’t necessarily have sitting across from each other in a cafe or at home.
Don’t be afraid to have those conversations, and don’t just think it’s enough to say, ‘‘oh, you need to run more’’.
It’s a theme we talk about this week on Dirt Church Radio, the trail running podcast I co-host with Matt Rayment, who works in mental health.
Partly, it’s prompted by the conversation we have on the podcast this week with global running legend Dean Karnazes, known as the Ultramarathon Man.
Karnazes talks openly about the pressure that comes from being a running celebrity, and the bizarre experiences that sometimes brings him (once, at a book-signing, some parents jumped to the front of the queue to bring him their sick kid and ask if he could heal the child by laying his hands on them). How do you cope with that? Karnazes is the first to admit that running does a lot of things. But running is not treatment.