Running and Mental Health – Aron Hinds

So having been accepted as a mental health ambassador and now being part of a monthly #runandtalk session, I thought it would be a good time for another blog. My plan is to be open and honest about mental health, what it means to me, and hopefully encourage a few people to talk about their own experiences (but only if they want to).

In my last blog about running every day (which I’m still doing – 550 days and counting!) I casually dropped in that I’ve had some problems with anxiety and depression, and I think it surprised a few people, as I’m really not very good at talking about this sort of stuff. I think for my family in particular, it came as a bit of a shock, so hopefully in this blog I can answer a few questions.

My mental health story is hopefully one that a lot of people can connect to, and so the idea behind sharing it is to give what I think is an everyday story of mental health issues. I’m going to try and be as candid as possible, but I know that everyone’s experiences are completely different, so I’m keen to emphasise that this is just my story, and everyone has their own experiences and circumstances which will be completely unique to them.

Talking about mental health is hard. It shouldn’t be, but it is. There’s a stigma that really needs to be broken down, and I’d love it if we could all have open and honest conversations with each other about our mental health. As a runner, I will talk to you for hours on end in excruciatingly boring detail about every single niggle I’ve felt in the last few weeks/months and how they’re affecting my running (Heather will certainly attest to that), but if you ask me how I’m feeling, the answer will rarely stretch beyond “Yeah, not too bad.”

My issues are basically the classic cocktail of stress, anxiety and depression, and they’re all wound up together. I’m not on medication for it (and never have been). I’ve only actually sought medical help once, when I had a bit of a breakdown on the way to work, and burst into tears (for no discernible reason) before I’d even made it to the tube. I made the decision to go and speak to a doctor, and it’s one of the best thing I’ve ever done.

I don’t think that the specifics of what happened to me are particularly important to understanding the situation, because it’s the sort of thing that can happen to anyone. A lot of the time depression is automatically linked with very serious things like self-harm and suicide. I’ve never had feelings like that, but it doesn’t mean that anxiety and depression haven’t had an impact on my life and my relationships. I still feel like I should explain what happens to me, but I will try and keep it as brief as possible. I’m not going to give you my life story, and I’m trying to avoid sounding like I’m on the psychiatrist’s couch.

In short, I think my mental health problems always revolve around uncertainty. In the build up to this particular episode, Heather and I had made the massive decision to move back up north, and she’d got a new job in Leeds. I didn’t have a new job, we had nowhere to live when we made the move, and I wasn’t exactly sure I could afford to be making such a massive leap. There were other things going on at the time, such as my job getting more stressful, resolving some money issues, a distinct lack of exercise as I didn’t have time etc. Despite being surrounded by a great set of friends, all this pressure made me feel isolated and lonely. Basically life was just getting on top of me. A lot of people with depression talk about a black cloud, or a weight on them, and I would totally agree with this.

It can form slowly and imperceptibly, and from the outside people probably wouldn’t realise there’s anything wrong. But eventually all these feelings, the weight, and the clouds, can become so dark, so thick and so heavy, that it becomes hard to think of anything else or see a way out. When things get bad (which luckily for me is very rare) I have trouble concentrating on simple tasks, retaining information in my head, have difficulty making simple decisions, and generally just struggle to function.

That first time I spoke to a doctor about it, it felt like the weight lifted, and the clouds parted. The issues were still there, but speaking to someone and hearing that it’s completely normal, it happens to loads of people, and it really will come to an end, is such a relief. My employer (and my line manager at the time, in particular) were really great about it. I took a few weeks off work, took some time to understand how I was feeling, and focused on what I could do to stay in control.

For me, I now try to think about my mental health in the same way that I think of my physical health. If you’ve got a tight hamstring or a sprained ankle, you don’t carry on running at the same intensity as if you were in perfect health: If you’re having a stressful time at work, you’re anxious about changes in your life, or everything is just getting on top of you, you have to take some steps to protect (and improve) your mental health.

I find talking to people really helps. I don’t do it enough, because it’s tough – I think we’re conditioned to think that mental health problems show weakness, particularly in a sporting context, but that’s totally not the case. The hardest part is telling people that you’re struggling, that you’re not ok, and that you need help. It doesn’t get better overnight, and I’ve had a few occasions where I’ve spiralled down. I think I’m now better able to identify when I’m having problems (or feel like the clouds are gathering) but I’m still sometimes taken completely by surprise.

As I mentioned in my last blog, I also really find that running helps. I think regular exercise allows me to keep my emotions a little bit more stable, and also gives me some time to think. Conversely too much time in my own head can be detrimental, so running with such great groups as Hyde Park Harriers and GoodGym really helps me keep a balance.

I could probably carry on talking about myself long enough to write a book, and while that might be cathartic for me, it would probably not make very interesting reading. I’m certainly not looking for sympathy but I am hoping to encourage some open conversation, and saying to people that if you need help, there is always someone there if you need it, you just need to ask. People can be pretty awesome really.

Aron Hinds

Running and Mental Health