What I talk about when I talk about control

Me, post-marathon, complete with dog chewed cap

It's been an interesting - read sometimes challenging - month or so. I've been experiencing the emotional roller-coaster of self-employment and have had to dig deep to remain positive and focused. I think I've turned a corner on that now. We'll see.

I've also had blood tests and an EGC following a discussion with my GP about my lack of energy. The tests were routine, to rule out obvious physical causes. They came back clear and the upshot is I'm now starting a reduced dose of the anti-depressants I've been on for the last couple of years.

I'm actually really pleased about this. I've not been convinced they're helping me for a while so this gives me a chance to understand whether or not that's the case. The lack of energy has been a constant for a few years now and regularly coincides with low mood.

When low mood or anxiety has set in recently, it's been very clear to me that the stimulus is the uncertainty of work. I realise it's part and parcel of the decision I made to start up on my own, but the reality of it takes some getting used to.

That said, it's actually pretty reassuring to be able to step back from the situation and realise why it's coming on. But I don't credit the medication for this. I credit the fact I've continued to see a therapist, share how I'm feeling with friends and family and writing this blog.

These things and continuing to educate myself and learn more through reading and watching insightful things recommended by others.

A friend bought me a copy of Johann Hari's Lost Connections. I'd heard him speaking about it on a podcast and had made a mental note to check the book out, so it was a really nice surprise for it to suddenly land on the doormat.

It was serendipitous timing too. I was already planning to talk to my GP about coming of the medication, and I'd be lying if I tried to claim the book hadn't nudged me a long some.

One of the other major things that's happened is the Amsterdam marathon. I've had a tricky relationship with running over the years - I love it but it's one of the tell-tale signs of depression when I can't face it - and I'll talk more about that in another post, I'm sure.

But at the start of the year, I agreed to join up with a mate who was planning to run his first marathon. I ran it on two previous occasions - the first was a disaster and the second was a great success. Because I turned 40 this year, I also decided that I wanted to run it faster than I had before. I joked to others that I was going to reverse the ageing process by knocking a second off seven years later.

However, because I don't make things easy for myself, I also decided that I needed to lump charity fundraising on top of everything else. I wanted to support the Campaign Against Living Miserably (CALM). At the very least I wanted to champion its cause but as the months went on, I couldn't click myself into gear to do it.

I realised some 7 months later that the very fact I was setting myself the expectation of campaigning on top of training, family life and starting up my own business was actually resulting in me doing nothing about it. I was in a Catch 22 situation and it was all my own doing.

It wasn't until I started writing this blog and receiving messages and feedback from others that I realised I was actually achieving what I'd wanted to through championing the CALM cause.

So I reset my expectations. I decided that I was going to run the marathon for myself. I decided I didn't care how quickly I got around too. And like that, I started to apply myself to training properly.

Don't get me wrong, I still hated the long runs. They suck. Three hours + on the run is not how I enjoy spending my time, but I managed to get a focus that had been lacking before then.

I started to believe I was going to get around - something I always tend to doubt before any race, for some reason - and I could imagine the sprint for the finish line in the Olympic Stadium, regardless of how tired my legs would be at that point.

It transformed everything. Things suddenly felt manageable. I realised I was more in control than I'd thought I was. Moments like this - ones of realisation and clarity of thought - are incredibly powerful and I'm exploring how I can help myself to have more of them.

As for the marathon itself, I got through it. I don't care about the time it took. And, crucially, it made me realise that I am much more likely to keep up with running if I focus on running distances that I enjoy training for.

On that basis, I've retired from marathon running. Three cracks at it is enough for me, thanks.

I'm all about half marathons now. My incentive? Up to 2 hours of head-clearing goodness whenever I feel up to the challenge. And that's the kind of thing it's impossible for me to quantify the value of.