The past several posts have been about my summer adventures, but I’d like to shift gears and discuss something that I think most people may relate to. I am fairly open about my struggles with mental health, as I believe it's important to spread awareness, and have explored how my eating disorder recovery impacts my relationship with hiking on this blog. However, there’s this big, miserable elephant in the room called “depression” that I have yet to address, and I would like to start a dialogue about how this mental illness can affect various endurance endeavors in different ways, specifically hiking and trail running. As I have stated before, I am not a mental health expert and the information provided within this post can not replace professional advice. I will merely dive into my own experiences and offer some insight into how our mental state can play such a vital role every time we lace our boots and head into the backcountry.
What does depression look like?
For me, my depression and eating disorder are like a chicken and egg type situation. I could go around in circles all day trying to figure out which one came first, but ultimately it’s easiest to treat them as two separate entities even though they often spend a lot of time holding hands and coming up with schemes to make me even more distressed in life. While they both feed into each other at times, it’s best to describe my eating disorder as the angry, rebellious teenager with an attitude that could make a kitten cry and my depression as the sad, neglected little girl in the corner that everyone overlooks. My eating disorder is unfiltered rage, while my depression is despair in its purest form. I was diagnosed with both in high school, but I believe the seeds that planted my depression took root long before that.
I think it’s important to note that depression manifests differently for everyone. Generally, there are typical symptoms like feelings of hopelessness or apathy, loss of pleasure in activities, social isolation, changes in sleep patterns, and issues with basic self-care/hygiene. However, some might seem overly happy and bubbly, may have all the motivation in the world, and be the life of the party, yet still feel nothing but darkness on the inside. Some feel suicidal, some don’t. Some cry all the time and some feel endlessly numb. It varies from person to person, which sometimes makes this illness hard to understand for people who haven’t experienced it before. Also, depression symptoms can fluctuate depending on the season of life the person is in and can evolve as they grow. My depression looks vastly different now than how it was when I was awkward, in braces, and played oboe in the school band.
The problem with being a chronic overthinker and a hiker
With that being said, how can depression impact hiking and outdoor sports? Well, in a lot of different ways! I think losing passion for activities once easily enjoyed is one of the biggest issues. When I start craving isolation more frequently over a walk on my favorite local hiking trail with my dogs, that’s the first indicator that I may be starting to fall into a depressive episode. There is nothing wrong with needing an introvert day in bed with Grey's Anatomy and an endless supply of double-stuffed Oreos (we’ve all been there). However, when these behaviors start to impact your life and leaving your bedroom feels too daunting, there could be an issue that needs to be addressed.
Another way depression can make hiking difficult is self-doubt and imposter syndrome. I touched on this briefly in my Mt. Elbert hike post, but I think it’s worth exploring more here as well. For those who don’t know, impostor syndrome refers to feelings of inadequacy or incompetence despite the successes, accolades, or achievements that one obtains. In other words, it’s feeling like a fraud, hence the name. Typically those who experience imposture syndrome may also struggle with perfectionism and set standards that are way too high to compensate for their lack of confidence. For me, I never feel good enough. Comparison feeds off of my insecurities and causes dysmorphic beliefs to wreak havoc on my self-esteem. I am this way in many areas of life and hiking is no exception.
Some examples include feeling like I don’t hike or run fast enough or far enough when compared to others. I also struggle with calling myself a “hiker” or “runner” based on how I look or act, what gear I may or may not use, and the credibility of my trail resume. I remember outfitting one customer for hiking shoes at the outdoor shop I worked at and him judging me based on the fact that I had never hiked a 14ner before (at that point, I hadn’t). It didn’t matter that I had loads of experience with helping others find the shoes that worked best for their designated trips or the fact that I frequently backpacked and kept up with the current technologies of hiking performance equipment. To him, I wasn’t worth his time. I will say, now that I have hiked a 14ner, even though it was an amazing experience, that one specific hike didn’t change me or make me more of a hiker. It was just a trail, it was just a mountain. I am still the same person, regardless.
It is still hard sometimes to convince myself that hiking and trail running are simply activities that I take part in and that they are not glued to my identity. How fast I go or how far I go doesn’t matter. How strenuous or easy the trail is doesn't matter. Even whatever gear I own or don’t own doesn’t matter in the long run. The power behind trail endeavors is that there is no right or wrong way to hike or run. Obviously, it’s stupid to provoke bears, dangerous to start fires in fragile areas, and advised to not go against Leave No Trace principles or to not pack all Ten Essentials. However, for the most part, hiking and trail running are extremely subjective. There are virtually no rules and no guidebook that will scold you for not abiding by a three-mile-an-hour pace. So, here’s your announcement to stop being so hard on yourself! Way easier said than done, but what I mean is, it’s okay to enjoy the hike.
Just hike, you’ll feel better
The last point I want to touch on when it comes to hiking with depression is how exercising, especially outside in nature, isn’t always like taking an antidepressant. If you literally Google “hiking and depression,” millions of articles will generate explaining the many benefits of how endorphins produced during bodily movement and the meditative qualities of being among wildlife can drastically reduce depressive symptoms. To a certain extent, this is true! “Shinrin yoku” or the Japanese practice of “forest bathing” is a form of ecotherapy that is known to help people reduce stress, improve their physical health, boost their overall mood, and promote richer creativity. I won’t go into intense detail, but this practice generally involves spending time in nature without distractions and wandering aimlessly while engaging the five senses. While this isn’t categorized as exercise at all, it is an example of the powerful healing properties of nature.
Despite the mounting evidence and studies conducted on this topic, I still cringe when people try to compare running or hiking with the act of taking antidepressants and going to therapy. For some, it may be possible to manage minor depressive symptoms with a plethora of lifestyle techniques. Yet for most living with this mental illness, more clinical intervention is needed to help improve their quality of life. There is absolutely no shame in that. I do, however, believe that running, hiking, and time spent in nature (when not in excess) in conjunction with therapy and medication, can significantly improve mental health!
The key word there is “excess.” Those with a history of overexercising or eating disorders, especially those new to recovery, need to be careful when incorporating rigorous movement into their daily lives as the risk of relapse or disordered behavior is much greater. It’s always a good idea to have a team made up of a therapist and psychiatrist to check in with often as well as a dietitian and other professionals if needed. I recognize that this isn’t always possible for everyone though for a variety of reasons, and I hope that as our country progresses, quality mental health care will become more accessible for everyone who needs it.
Your daily dose of poetry
All in all, depression is one of the most common mental illnesses in the world that can impact people in different ways and in various aspects of life. When related to hiking and on-trail adventures, depression can still very much prevent people from enjoying the backcountry to the fullest extent. No matter the awesome view at the top of a hill, the stunning colors this earth provides, and the joy found in multi-day excursions far away from civilization, no one, not even hikers or trail runners are immune from the darkness that can take hold. Because of this, it is important to try and take care of ourselves as best as we can. To end, I leave you with a poem by one of my favorite poets that I think will resonate with you.
Wild Geese By Mary Oliver You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves. Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. Meanwhile the world goes on. Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain are moving across the landscapes, over the prairies and the deep trees, the mountains and the rivers. Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, are heading home again. Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting — over and over announcing your place in the family of things.
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See you out on the trail!