This post may seem a little hypocritical after returning home from my run this afternoon wanting nothing more than to never exercise again, but it’s important nonetheless. I came out of my thirty-minute jog with a fit of coughing and a dangerously high heartbeat — not the most encouraging symptoms, and certainly nothing I want to recommend to anyone else. Continue reading
No one told me that depression, at least the kind that I have, kills one’s ability to exercise. In about three years I transformed from a fairly fit human being into someone who couldn’t jog for more than five minutes without losing her breath.
Now, I have gotten back into it. The new medication I am taking has given me more energy, and along with that more mental motivation to get out of the house and move my body. I never thought I could look forward to exercise, but now I can’t wait for my nightly runs, when I plug my music into my ears and fly.
The streets are quiet at night. The lights are soft. My blood rushes and floods my heart and I am alive. Continue reading
To me, it is like going for a jog but with my brain.
I begin by sitting at my desk, spreading the paper out in front of me, and flexing my fingers, just as I might tie up my running shoes and step out onto the street, stretching my legs quickly before starting. Continue reading