Do you ever wish you could stop time? If I could, I would freeze everyone in their place and wander about the world for a while without anyone asking anything of me. In the somber, solemn last few weeks of winter term, I was wishing to hit the fast forward button on time, but now I would give anything to rewind or at least pause and breathe for just a second.
For most of February and almost all of March, my shining light at the end of the tunnel was an upcoming spring break ski trip to Lake Tahoe with my mom. At the time, I was a wreck — bogged down with school work, running, injury stress and my two jobs. I told myself it was seasonal depression and that I just had to get to spring break for the clouds to lift (both literally and metaphorically). But come spring break, during what was meant to be my respite from responsibility, I found I was still stressed and unable to relax. 

“Jeez, you don’t even know how to have a vacation,” my mom said as I bumbled around our Airbnb making tasks for myself out of nothing. I was horrified when I realized she was right. Here I was, on vacation, writing and editing articles, refusing aprés-ski drinks, going on runs after six-hour ski days and choosing soggy, squished pocket sandwiches over lodge french fries. I’m 21 years old and I’ve already forgotten how to have fun.

I’ve always been a perfectionist, but marathon training has turned me into a Grade-A basket case. My life feels like rush hour at a coffee shop: all the orders come in at once, and just as you’re starting to feel caught up, a party of moms, each with six-step, special-instruction drink orders, walks through the door. I’ve been juggling so many responsibilities and putting so much pressure on myself for so long that my brain has reset its default settings to panic. Even when I check off all the boxes on my to do list, I’m left wracking my mind for what I may have missed, just like the barista who, when her ticket line clears, can’t help but think, “Shit, did I put whole milk in that woman’s oat milk latte?” 

I guess what I’m trying to say is I’ve enjoyed our time together, but I’m really looking forward to this not being my life anymore. Running is the most effective way for me to manage my stress, but paradoxically, when I’m not physically on a run, I tend to spiral and stress about running related things. And I simply don’t have time to worry about running while I’m so busy worrying about literally everything else. 

So maybe I’ve been lying to you, or maybe I’ve been lying to myself. I’ve painted such a pretty little picture saying I’ve fallen in love with running and that it’s been the best thing for my mental health. And I suppose it’s an easy lie to fall for — how could something that feels so good be bad? There is some truth to what I’ve told. Running has changed my life in many good ways, but even the sweetest things turn sour when you become obsessed. Unfortunately, I am prone to obsession. Running a marathon couldn’t just be one of my things, it had to become my whole life, my whole personality, my primary priority and of course, the only content that shows up on my social media feed. 
Dare I say, I may have ruined a good thing. It’s not that I’m burnt out on running, it’s that I’m burnt out on spending every waking moment thinking and worrying about running. The logistics are exhausting and all-consuming. How many miles do I have to do for my next long run to compensate for injury rehab? What do I need to eat for lunch to get enough protein today? What time will I have to wake up to fit in a run before class tomorrow? How much money can I afford to spend on new gear, gels or electrolyte drinks? What will my training schedule look like after the race? When should I run my next race?

Of course, I’m not giving up. Running a marathon is a little crazy, but deciding to not run a marathon after months of training is just pure insanity. I’m just a little over three weeks out from this thing, and the odds are in my favor of finishing — just this Sunday I successfully completed my first 20 mile run pain free, disregarding the blister battlefield that is my feet. This week’s column is not meant to admit defeat, but to be fully transparent and tell you that this has been the hardest 16 weeks of my life — physically, yes, but mostly mentally. 

I’m so proud of how much I’ve accomplished and overcome, and no amount of mental anguish can take that from me. But while I’ve gained so much from this experience, I would also never want to replicate it. I’d love to run more marathons in the future, but I must admit, I don’t think it would be mentally healthy for me to undertake such a challenge again without some serious mindset adjustments and maybe even a little therapy. Unfortunately, I can’t change the path I’ve already paved, so all that’s left is for me to keep running in the direction I’ve been headed, and hope it takes me to the finish line.