Mileage-wise the Busman’s Holiday week #2 panned out pretty much as expected – maybe just a few miles short. I had a few worries not related to running this week. These weighed heavy on me. I found it difficult to get myself out there and run the way I normally would. The 4.5 miles on Friday was very difficult for these reasons.
I’m suffering very badly with health-related anxiety at the moment. It started not long after my second stay in hospital last year for Diverticulitis but has progressively worsened over the past 12 months. I can’t quite wrap my head around it and it’s not something I really want to share publicly but I feel I need to confront it by writing it down. It has placed me in a position whereby, some days, I’m barely able to get on with simple things outside of work.
It certainly hasn’t been fair on my wife and kid. I’m irritable, withdrawn, unable to carry out normal routines. Sometimes all I want to do is sleep. Other parts of the day are pre-occupied with worrying that the dull pain in my left side that hasn’t gone away in 6 months is something again brewing, diverticulitis related, even though clinical tests on bloods are perfectly fine. Then there’s chest pains. I’ve become so sensitive to every ‘normal’ feeling within that I’m attributing far more to every little, irrelevant thing going on with me. Of course, all this hasn’t been helped by the wave of actual, minor issues in the last few months.
I pulled out of that run on Friday which is why it was only 4.5 miles. The pressure and tension in my chest was terrible. Of course there was none – it was my mind, panicking about issues I don’t have. How terrible it is however that the mind can convince the body of such problems. What I was feeling was very real. Psychologically-conceived physical issues creating additional problems by way of unshakable concerns that something was actually wrong.
This isn’t what my blog is about and I feel rather strange taking this brief departure to even mention it. I don’t know why other than perhaps if I see it written down, it will help me realise that this is no more real than my dreams, my imagination. It’s something I do need to tackle somehow, even as I write this I’m feeling ill at ease. I don’t want to be a prisoner of my own mind. Life is for the living. One final personal note: I don’t know where I’d be or what state I would be in without my wife right now. She has been an incredible rock throughout this. Her understanding of what is going on with me is amazing; her patience in helping me through the bad times is saintly. Better days will come.