I attended a Cineworld Unlimited screening of The Martian last night, having recently inhaled the book and thought I'd share my thoughts with anyone considering whether to go see it. The review will be spoiler free, for both book and movie.
Monday, 28 September 2015
Wednesday, 2 September 2015
Exercise
For a while, what seems like an age ago now, I did a chunk of cardio. Not a lot by fit people standards, but there was a high school girl inside me who cried at the thought of running 300 metres who was immensely proud I could run for 30 minutes at 8km/h. That was only at the end, of course, after completing C25K at a slower speed than was really intended, as my goal had been increased fitness and endurance rather than specifically running 5km. I never got what some refer to as an "endorphin high" (a rush after doing exercise), but I did really enjoy feeling less challenged by some of my more active hobbies and, combined with some healthy dieting, the effects it had had on my figure.
Then I switched to a different form of exercise (more fun, but also more challenging) and I ran a LARP event, organised a wedding, organised a lot of exciting paperwork that required a visit abroad, organised another LARP event and suddenly realised I was massively unfit again and no longer attending my fitness class due to the challenge it now posed, particularly with my decreased fitness levels.
So I attended my first visit back to the gym and started C25K over again. I decided to always run at 10km/h this time around, even if it involved redoing more weeks as I'm not on any kind of timeline and I found it hard to speed up last time. It was hard, my feet went numb, but it worked and I was okay. Exhausted, but okay.
At that same time, I was struggling with my mood.
I was having more and more bad days, one after another, and it became apparent to me that I had been blaming a long succession of short term, temporary factors for something that was clearly not incidental.
I worried because I know (as much as someone who hasn't experienced it first hand, anyway) how hard depression is. How hard it is to face needing help; how hard it is to push for that help against ignorance and prejudice; how hard it is to cope with the fact that there is no magic trick to "fix" it all, that it will likely get worse before it gets better... I pictured myself trying to make time for therapy, while still making time to see the people I like, do the things I like and have time to myself, all of which I desperately need to stay okay, and I winced. I pictured going through medication with all sorts of exciting side effects from weight gain, to having an upset stomach, to struggling to stand and walk, to insomnia and vivid dreams, and I winced again. And all of this was assuming I didn't get any worse, because depression can do some really awful things to people. (Of course, without seeking help, I had no idea if that was even applicable to me. It's hard to balance not devaluing the term with not disregarding what I was experiencing and recognising the fact the two may or may not overlap. Feedback welcome.)
A couple of days after my first gym visit, I was having a hard day. This wasn't news; most days were hard by then. My husband who's also my gym mate had had a bad day, too, and I suggested we skip because running is hard when you'd rather curl up in a corner. He insisted we go regardless and... I realised something.
After I came out of that run, I was exhausted. I was still quite unfit and I was working my way through the program. But I realised that things now felt... okay. Like things could be funny again. Like I smelled and ached, but a hot shower, some dinner and my sofa would be enough to make for a fantastic evening.
I realised my brain hadn't been needling me for over half an hour as I couldn't afford to think about anything much more complicated than "Run. Breathe." while running just yet. And I could recall the kinds of things it would say, but it seemed quite happy to sit quietly in a corner if I didn't bother it. The things it would say seemed less real now, too.
It wasn't a "rush" and it wasn't a "high", but something had definitely messed with my brain, in a good way.
Cardio is not a cure for depression; cardio is not a cure for anything other than bad cardiovascular fitness. But all those things doctors say about how, if you're feeling a bit crap, you should try some exercise? Turns out, they know they're stuff.
And yes, it's still hard to actually get started and you won't be jumping off walls when you're done - hell, I can't even promise it will do anything for you. But today, I treat cardio as my own personal, positive-side-effect-only medication/therapy combo. It eats some of my free time, but it's not that much and I do get increased cardio fitness out of it as well, so it's not that bad a deal. And... it's been good for me.
Then I switched to a different form of exercise (more fun, but also more challenging) and I ran a LARP event, organised a wedding, organised a lot of exciting paperwork that required a visit abroad, organised another LARP event and suddenly realised I was massively unfit again and no longer attending my fitness class due to the challenge it now posed, particularly with my decreased fitness levels.
So I attended my first visit back to the gym and started C25K over again. I decided to always run at 10km/h this time around, even if it involved redoing more weeks as I'm not on any kind of timeline and I found it hard to speed up last time. It was hard, my feet went numb, but it worked and I was okay. Exhausted, but okay.
At that same time, I was struggling with my mood.
I was having more and more bad days, one after another, and it became apparent to me that I had been blaming a long succession of short term, temporary factors for something that was clearly not incidental.
I worried because I know (as much as someone who hasn't experienced it first hand, anyway) how hard depression is. How hard it is to face needing help; how hard it is to push for that help against ignorance and prejudice; how hard it is to cope with the fact that there is no magic trick to "fix" it all, that it will likely get worse before it gets better... I pictured myself trying to make time for therapy, while still making time to see the people I like, do the things I like and have time to myself, all of which I desperately need to stay okay, and I winced. I pictured going through medication with all sorts of exciting side effects from weight gain, to having an upset stomach, to struggling to stand and walk, to insomnia and vivid dreams, and I winced again. And all of this was assuming I didn't get any worse, because depression can do some really awful things to people. (Of course, without seeking help, I had no idea if that was even applicable to me. It's hard to balance not devaluing the term with not disregarding what I was experiencing and recognising the fact the two may or may not overlap. Feedback welcome.)
A couple of days after my first gym visit, I was having a hard day. This wasn't news; most days were hard by then. My husband who's also my gym mate had had a bad day, too, and I suggested we skip because running is hard when you'd rather curl up in a corner. He insisted we go regardless and... I realised something.
After I came out of that run, I was exhausted. I was still quite unfit and I was working my way through the program. But I realised that things now felt... okay. Like things could be funny again. Like I smelled and ached, but a hot shower, some dinner and my sofa would be enough to make for a fantastic evening.
I realised my brain hadn't been needling me for over half an hour as I couldn't afford to think about anything much more complicated than "Run. Breathe." while running just yet. And I could recall the kinds of things it would say, but it seemed quite happy to sit quietly in a corner if I didn't bother it. The things it would say seemed less real now, too.
It wasn't a "rush" and it wasn't a "high", but something had definitely messed with my brain, in a good way.
Cardio is not a cure for depression; cardio is not a cure for anything other than bad cardiovascular fitness. But all those things doctors say about how, if you're feeling a bit crap, you should try some exercise? Turns out, they know they're stuff.
And yes, it's still hard to actually get started and you won't be jumping off walls when you're done - hell, I can't even promise it will do anything for you. But today, I treat cardio as my own personal, positive-side-effect-only medication/therapy combo. It eats some of my free time, but it's not that much and I do get increased cardio fitness out of it as well, so it's not that bad a deal. And... it's been good for me.
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