When I was 22, just out of college, I landed an entry-level job in Boston and moved myself into a small room in a rambling old Victorian in Somerville. After a brief wave of excitement — new places, new faces, my very own annual salary — I fell into a gray and formless depression. I was at loose ends in a cold city, lonely and struggling to transform from an awkward teenager into a confident adult.
My case of depression, as cases go, was manageable, though tough; I was still able to eat and run and phone in at least a half-assed effort at work. Still, more than anything else, sadness marked my late twenties, and breaking its curse took all the ammunition I could levy — psychotherapy, running, music, writing, and eventually moving across the country to the sunnier skies of Boulder.
My life now, I’m inexpressibly grateful to say, is marked more by joy than by sadness, and as I’ve aged I’ve developed a much more stable emotional temperament. I look back on the Andrew of those gray years with affection and empathy, and a degree of gratitude. Overcoming those challenges helped lead me to the life I have chosen today.
All of this came to mind when Rob Krar — he of this month’s Trail Runner cover and the winner of the 2018 Leadville 100, among many other achievements – swung by my local run club last fall. Rob has struggled with depression throughout his life, and I had a chance to chat briefly with him on our social run. (I now can now proudly say I battled with Rob Krar for the lead on a run, though I may not mention it was a 4-mile, 9-minute-mile jog on a bike path).
Rob related the story of winning the 2015 Western States 100 miler, the pre-eminent trail race in the United States. Pursuing a goal of that magnitude is an all-encompassing physical and emotional feat. After this capstone achievement, he returned home and sunk into a depression so severe that when a box arrived at his house seven days later, he didn’t open it. He knew it was his Western States winner’s trophy but was so depressed that his accomplishment was now a distant memory.
What Research Says About Running and Depression
Running, you may not be surprised to learn, is a potent weapon against depression. Numerous studies have demonstrated that exercise contributes to mental well-being. Some of this effect may be due to the biochemical effects of exercise on our brain, but running benefits our mood in many other ways. (While the effects of exercise on mood are strong, they also vary by factors including age and severity of symptoms).
Running helps us shift our brains from big-picture anxieties to small, in-the-moment tasks of focusing on a goal, says clinical psychologist Laura Fredendall. If we’re running in nature, we gain additional mood-enhancing benefits. And combining running with meditation can be an even more potent antidote to depression. This may be because both activities affect the same portions of the brain and promote focus and concentration, which are associated with improved moods.
While running — and vigorous exercise in general — tends to soothe our bad moods, intense running experiences can have dramatic and unpredictable effects on our emotions. During the course of a single long run, we may experience dramatic mood swings. (This is why people refer to a 100-mile race as “life in a day”.)
When I ran my longest training run ever last summer – a 10-hour, 32-mile solo loop through Rocky Mountain National Park – I was elated in the first half, watching the rising sun paint Longs Peak in a wash of orange and purple and pink. By afternoon, my mood sunk. I ran the last ten sloggy miles through the afternoon gloom of a hailstorm, and wondered if, in fact, I ever really wanted to run again. Was I losing this thing I loved? Where did it suddenly disappear to?
Part of this mood swing I can chalk up to experience: I’d never run such a distance, I wasn’t prepared for the emotional up and down, and I probably hadn’t eaten enough calories throughout the day. Even so, mood swings during such a physically and mentally intense activity are inevitable. By morning when I’d had some rest and, importantly, some food, the light slowly filtered back.
Depression is Human — And Beatable
Hearing Rob Krar’s story was reassuring, in a way: it’s a reminder that depression or blue moods are normal and human, and need not block us from productive and healthy lives.
When dark moods to creep up in my life, I attack them with an assortment of strategies I’ve found work for me. Running, of course, is one of the cornerstones of this prescription, and even a couple miles on a treadmill can do wonders for my mood in the dead of winter.
I’ve also found developing a regular habit of mindfulness helpful, particularly the Buddhist-inspired practice of non-attachment. When the dark form of depression happens to crop up on the horizon, I don’t fear it as in inherent aspect of my identity. Instead, I observe it at a remove, knowing that it will soon pass, just as the tough parts of a long run soon vanish into the past once we’ve overcome them.
Andrew, thanks for sharing your experience and how you process of dark moments of long runs. I think that with experience and attention to details the dark moments can be limited. I have not been able to eliminate them, but maybe it is a healthy cycle and I’m note certain I would want to eliminate it all together. I appreciate how you have learned to process the moment.