My Road to a Treadmill

I like running. Always have. I was actually really good at it when I was a teenager. Ran track and field for my school and later completed in running races for my city. Did a couple of marathons. Until I was assaulted while I was jogging at 7 am, while people were going to work. I fought my attacker and screamed for help. He punched me before running away, and I passed out. I ended up with a bleeding nose and a couple of bruises. Nothing major. But I couldn’t bring myself to run again.

Until… I got depressed after the delivery of my daughter. Like I mentioned before, I tried meds and just didn’t think they were helping me, and I didn’t want to take them. From my professional experience, I knew that exercise was the best thing, but I was afraid to run again. I decided that I had to practice what I preach, and I forced myself to get a gym membership.

My first time was rough. It sucked. I was scared and anxious. I mean, I knew no one would hurt me at the gym, but my anxiety was overwhelming. I ran for ten minutes and left. But I came back the next day. And the day after. After about a month, I ran for 20 minutes. Men walking around me at the gym triggered me. I am a very confident person, but not at the gym. I just lost my balls the minute I stepped on that treadmill. Like I was a little teenage girl again, scared and beaten. I often teach my clients to act the opposite of the emotions they are feeling. So that’s what I did. I wanted to leave, and I stayed. I didn’t feed my anxiety but rode it out until it was manageable. Men at the gym still trigger me. If a male staff member cleans other equipment by my treadmill, I get very anxious, kind of border-line panicky. I notice that I find myself choosing a treadmill as far away from everyone as possible. But I don’t leave. I continue running. I practice the skills I teach my clients and keep pushing myself to overcome my anxiety and face my fears.

Why I am telling you this? Because I want you to know that all of us have demons. We can let them control our lives, or we can choose to address them. It took me a very long time to be ready. I had to hit rock bottom with my depression to be able to get to the point where I wanted to challenge myself. Once you are ready, you need to commit to challenging yourself and take a step. A small step. For someone who ran marathons, running ten minutes is really a joke. But I couldn’t run more, and that was ok. I took my time, treated myself kindly, and allowed myself to take small steps. Facing things doesn’t mean overwhelming yourself, failing, and losing the will to try again. It means making peace with yourself, as you are. Establish a small goal at first, and gradually work your way up to the goals that are more difficult to attain.

There is hope. You don’t have to live a life of fear and anxiety. You can fight it. One small step at a time, and one day you will wake up and feel better. I look forward to going to the gym now. I am even able to say “hi” to some of the male staff at the gym. And shower. I think taking a class might be next on my list.

Homework: Identify one activity that makes you anxious and/or fearful and try to do it for a short time, three times per week.

Talk to you soon,

Asta