Crawling Out Of The Funk

I was jolted awake and my eyes slowly opened as the alarm on my phone sounded.  My phone read 4:00 PM when I rolled over on the couch to shut it off.  I pulled my blanket off, tossed it to the side, and sat up on the couch, rubbing my eyes.  It was Christmas Day.  Earlier that morning, my aunt and uncle had a group over to their house for a Christmas Day brunch and I had gone over the afternoon and night before for some Christmas Eve festivities.  When I returned from their house that afternoon around 2:00 PM, I felt stressed out and thought that a nap would help calm me down.  When I finished rubbing my eyes, I looked around.  My blinds were closed and my apartment was dark and eerie.  Despite the exuberant family time that I enjoyed over the last couple of days, I felt empty and hollow inside.  Outside of the holiday season, my personal and professional life was changing drastically, and very quickly.  I was healing from a failed marriage, work was extremely busy, and my department at work was undergoing a major personnel shift.  In November, my company offered me an opportunity to relocate from Los Angeles to the executive office in Mountain View, California to work under the new CFO.  I had mixed emotions about leaving the city that I called home for the past seven years, but I was also eager for a fresh start in Silicon Valley.  After a series of meetings and discussions, I accepted the offer.  I had spent the prior week in Mountain View, working out of my new office and getting acquainted with my soon to be new home.  It was an exciting experience and I was looking forward to the move, but as I sat there on Christmas Day, I only had four days left in Los Angeles.  I had secured an apartment in Sunnyvale, given notice to my current landlord that I was going to be moving out at the end of December, and told my managers at work that I would be fully moved to Silicon Valley and ready to work by January 2nd, 2019.  During the ten days or so leading up to Christmas, I had been drinking a little more than I normally do, not eating very healthy, sleeping too much, and not running as much I should have been.  Whether this unhealthy state was a result of the holiday season and that's just how things are at this time of year, or if the mounting stress and mixed emotions in my personal and professional life had sent me into a downward spiral, I couldn't say.  All I knew was that I was in a funk.

I sat there for a good five minutes in the dark as the late afternoon sun peeked through the cracks of my blinds.  Christmas was always big in my family and I've always looked forward to doing Christmas themed races, dressing up in holiday themed attire, attending holiday parties, and generally being festive and jolly.  But due to all the changes in my life during the holiday season, I missed out on a lot of the fun activities that I relished greatly throughout December every year.  Christmas is my favorite holiday and I was supposed to be feeling happy.  But instead, it felt like something was missing.  If there's anything I can't stand, it's sitting on my ass, feeling sorry for myself.  I have accepted the fact that sometimes in life, I need to accept pain and even welcome it, but I've always hated it when people are miserable and don't take any action to improve their situation.  Life is too short to sit around being mopey and letting the world beat you down.  I thought about my Mom and how much I missed her.  Although I have my own beliefs regarding what happens to people after they die, I don't know much about the afterlife.  But there were two things I knew for sure; I knew my mother was watching over me, and I knew that she wouldn't want me to feel this way.  I would no longer stand for it.  "Okay, come on, get a grip" I finally said to myself out loud.  I stood up, switched on the lamp in my living room, and opened my blinds, allowing the light of the outside world to pour through the window of my sliding door.  I sat back down and began focusing.  The first thing I needed to do was acknowledge that I was feeling upset.  But why?  I just had a great couple of days with family celebrating Christmas.  Lots of people spend Christmas alone, and I was lucky enough to be in the presence of family, but my lack of running, increased alcohol consumption, unhealthy eating, oversleeping, and drastic life changes had been a thorn in my side for the past couple of weeks.  I also had missed out on holiday festivities and hadn't gotten a chance to see my friends lately.  And I was supposed to move in four days.  I couldn't allow this feeling to continue.  I acknowledged that I felt down, figured out the cause of the negative feelings, and now it was time to take action.  I went to my bedroom and put on my running shoes, shorts, a shirt from a Christmas run I had done the year prior, and a Red Wings beanie.  I may not have been able to participate in a sanctioned holiday run, but at least I could do my own.  When I returned from a three mile run around my neighborhood, I immediately felt better.  I thought of my friends.  I hadn't seem any of them lately, but it wasn't too late.  I picked up my phone and began messaging them, wishing them all a happy holiday and asking if they wanted to get together for a goodbye-for-now party on Friday night.  Everyone said yes.  I went to sleep that night, feeling a little more optimistic.

On the night of the 26th, the realization came over me that life was simply moving too fast.  I had a moment of clarity, and again, I needed to take action.  The next morning, I walked over to my landlord's apartment and asked if I could keep my place for another month.  When she said yes, I emailed the landlord of my new building asking if I could move in later on in January instead of on December 30th.  She also said yes.  I then reached out to my boss and told him that rather than moving up to Silicon Valley completely by December 30th, my new plan was to be up there to work during the week, come back to LA on the weekends to move things out of my current apartment and clean it out, and be completely moved in mid-January.  To my delight, he was very understanding, and said that it was fine.  I sat back on my couch and breathed a great sigh of relief.  When Friday night rolled around, ten of my closest running and hiking friends and I congregated at Max's, a popular Mexican restaurant among our group.  The evening was filled with laughter, story telling, and warmth.  I promised everyone that I'd be back to visit often, and we'd meet up in the mountains to share more adventures together.  When I arrived home that night I felt happy and at peace.  Things were starting to get back on track, but I wasn't stopping there.  I woke up on Saturday morning, went for a five mile run, ate a healthy breakfast, and went to therapy.  That evening, after purchasing a new pair of trail running shoes from REI, I really felt like I was coming back.  My new shoes and other REI goodies brought on more excitement.  On Sunday morning, I laced up my new shoes and went for a ten mile trail run in the mountains through the snow, followed by another healthy breakfast.

As I type this, I feel better now that I have at any point in the last two weeks.  I feel as though I've come back, and I've crawled out of the funk that I've been in for the last several days.  I feel more excited and optimistic about the move, things are falling into place, and life is being put back into perspective.  I spoke with my therapist and some friends about the rain cloud that seemed to be over my head for the last couple of weeks, which helped put things even further into perspective.  Those who I spoke with advised me not to be too hard on myself, and offered a fresh perspective, even going as far to say that sometimes being in a funk isn't such a bad thing because it gives us a chance to bring ourselves back out of the hole, creating feelings of hope and accomplishment.  Life is all about ups and downs.  There is a well known Japanese proverb that is often used in motivational situations that goes "fall down seven times, get up eight".  I've accepted the fact that I will fall into a funk here and there, but as long as I can muster the strength to overcome it, that's all that matters.  For this current predicament, the timing couldn't have been better.  I'm glad to be on the other end, and I'm stoked I will be going out of 2018 in style, feeling on top.  Bring on 2019!

Into Darkness

If there was ever an album that was specifically created for me to crank in my headphones while running on a snowy trail through the mountains, in the dead of night, under a star filled sky, it would have to be Motley Crue's Theatre of Pain.  The album is crafted in such a way that it is a perfect blend of fun, pop-oriented, country/blues influenced riffs and down-tuned, energy infused guitar playing, with a menacing sound to it.  This is the kind of music you play at night in the wilderness, with the exception of "Raise Your Hands To Rock" which, to me, is more of a "sunrise" song.  I was enjoying the fulfilling sounds of this record as I ran down the snow covered trail under the midnight sky back to Manker Flat, where my car was parked.  As I ran under the ski lift that transported skiers up to Baldy Notch, I was having fun, and all was going well until the music abruptly cut out.  I held my iPod in my left hand and when I looked down, the screen had gone blank.  The only sounds to be heard now were the sounds of the snow crunching under my footsteps, and the light whistle of the wind as it blew through my earbuds.  That is until I heard the sound of a male voice yelling something in the distance off to my left.  I turned my head to face the direction of the sound, but all I saw were snow covered mountains glowing in the moonlight.  No headlamps or lights.  Thirty seconds later, I heard the high pitched cry of a wild animal in the distance in front of me.  I looked up at the mountains in search of a pair of glowing eyes.  Nothing.  I was alone out there.  I kept pushing buttons on my iPod, hoping it would come back on so I could finish the last couple of miles of this run without having to hear the creepy sounds of the wilderness, but the screen remained blank.  This was weird.  I had charged it earlier that day, and when I took off from Manker Flat,  I had almost a full battery.  So why had it died?  Something very odd was going on here, and this situation was quickly shifting from fun and exciting to very unsettling.

Earlier that morning I rolled over in bed and saw on my Fitbit that it was 7:00 AM.  "Damn it" I whispered.  I had set my alarm for 4:00 AM that morning, with plans to go for a trail run at Mount Baldy.  The mountains in the area had just received heavy snowfall, and I wanted to go enjoy it.  My alarm went off at 4, but I shut it off and overslept.  I was disappointed, but I planned to get some good sleep that night and head out there the next morning instead.  But as the day went on, I wondered if I would oversleep again.  It was Saturday, and if I overslept again on Sunday, I wouldn't get my chance.  And then I had a wild idea.  After I attended the family gathering that I had scheduled for that night, I would drive out there and go for a night trail run.  I had never been there at night and I was wanting to try something new and step out of my comfort zone.  Plus I was concerned that I would oversleep again and I'd miss out on my chance.  This was going to be epic.  When I arrived back home that night, I changed into my running gear, grabbed my flashlight and headlamp, and headed out to the mountains.  After I exited the freeway and began driving up the winding road to Mount Baldy, the city lights and traffic gave way to enveloping darkness.  Driving on mountain roads in the dark is drastically different than during the day.  Often, there are no light poles, the road makes abrupt turns and curves, and beyond the beams of your headlights is just darkness.  I drove by several cars parked along the side of the road as I made my way to Manker Flat.  One car had a guy standing in front, all alone, with a hood on his head, just looking at the ground, with neither a smile or frown on his face.  When I arrived at Manker Flat, shut off my car, and turned off my headlights, it was pitch black all around me.  A rush of cool, refreshing mountain air came pouring in when I opened my car door.  As I made my final preparations, an L.A. County Sheriff SUV rolled up the road, about twenty feet away.  When they noticed my presence, they slowed down and shined their spot light in my direction.  They quickly realized that I was harmless, turned off the spot light, and continued up the road towards the ski lifts.  As I walked up the road that would eventually lead me to the trail, I wondered if I should really be doing this.  I had been here over a hundred times to go running and hiking during the day, but it was approaching 11:00 PM, and I had never been here this late at night.  I was used to the parking lot being crowded with cars and people, but I was all alone out here.  The presence of the sheriff SUV brought me some relief, but unfortunately they could only patrol the back country roads, not the trails.  After passing by the gate, I began running up the road.  The lights of a couple of cabins off to the side and down the hill from the road glowed as I ran by, but other than that, it was completely dark.  I put on some music, and soon the road took a sharp right hand turn and gave way to a narrow, graded dirt road.  I plodded along and shortly after passing by the junction where the Baldy Bowl trail flanks off to the left, I came around a bend and what rested before me blew me away.  "Holy shit" I said out loud.  Surrounding me in all directions were dazzling, snow covered mountains.  The mountain tops were bare with pine trees growing on the slopes.  They were prominent and the steadfast, as they glowed in the moonlight under the star filled sky.  The further I progressed, the more scenic the view became.  A light shined in the distance up ahead in the mountains.  The light was the Mount Baldy ski area at Baldy Notch, which was my destination.  I wore a headlamp and carried a flashlight, but given how bright the stars and moon were, I put my flashlight away.  The view was so breathtaking, I had to stop and look around for a minute.  "Wow" I said out loud.  I had been here countless times and I'd never seen it like this before.  This was Mount Baldy in a whole new version.  Not everyone will admit this, but at some point in their childhood, everyone was afraid of the dark.  Our fear of the dark as children plants a notion into our minds, even as adults, that the dark brings a certain element of danger.  Maybe that's why we as human beings, do things like go to clubs and bars, or parties at night.  We know subconsciously, that the element of danger that comes with the dark and the nighttime adds to the allure of partaking in an activity that is frowned upon in a traditional, old school world.  For me, outdoor activities are no different.  The dark is menacing.  It makes hiking, camping, snowboarding, running, just about anything more fun to do a night.  It freaks some people out, and it even freaks me out a little too, but I like that.  It keeps me on my toes, and creates a sense of empowerment because I'm facing my subconscious fear of the dark.

When I finally made my way up to Baldy Notch, the Top of the Notch restaurant and ski huts were closed up and darkened.  The ski lifts rested in the night, and the area looked like a ghost town, except for two flood lights that cast an eerie glow on the snow covered ground.  I made my way up the quarter mile path that led to the junction where the Devil's Backbone trial flanks off to the left, and the Three Tee's trail to the right.  As I approached the trail sign, I pulled out a roll of gold garland I had brought with me, and wrapped it around the top of the sign.  Nothing like spreading a little holiday cheer in the wilderness.  After snapping a couple of pictures, I made my way back to the ski lodge and back down the trail towards Manker Flat.  The trail was covered in snow and it took heightened concentration on the way back down to keep from slipping.  The snow was packed down and iced over in some areas, and I jumped back and forth on the trail, favoring the side that had better grip for my shoes.  The view of the snowy mountains continued to carry me along pleasantly, and in front of me, several thousand feet below off in the distance, the lights of the San Gabriel Valley illuminated the distant sky.  Motley Crue's Theatre of Pain album was pumping in my headphones as I ran underneath the ski lift.  The tone of the music was a perfect fit for the aurora of running on a snowy trail in the wilderness in the middle of the night; fun but also menacing.  But once my iPod abruptly died, and I began hearing the strange, eerie sounds of the midnight wilderness, the situation was becoming a little too menacing.  After hearing a voice and an animal cry, but seeing nothing, I began to question whether I had heard anything at all.  It was likely just my imagination playing tricks on me.  It wouldn't be the first time.  The first time I ran alone in the midnight wilderness, I had no music and it was just me and the great outdoors.  My imagination was running wild and I couldn't wait for the sun to crack the sky.  The strange distant noises continued as I ran down the trail past San Antonio Falls, but by the time I returned to my car at Manker Flat, I knew I was safe, and I was likely imagining all of the funky noises I had heard.  The experience was truly unique.  Not only had I never witnessed Mount Baldy wrapped in a peaceful blanket of starlit night, but I was another step closer feeling more comfortable running through the wilderness alone at night.  We all have that subconscious fear of the dark and running through remote terrain at night allows me to conquer that fear, and knowing that I'm flirting with danger it makes the experience all the more fun.  The very first time I ran alone in the middle of the night, I felt very isolated.  I grew apprehensive, and it freaked me out, but I wanted to do it again.  It was all very exciting to me.  2019 is going to be the year that I attempt my first 100 mile footrace.  Because the race will take at least twenty-four hours to complete, there will inevitably be a period of time where I'll be running alone in the wilderness at night.  Part of my training was going to be conquering my fears and getting used to the trails at night, and I couldn't wait to get after it.  "That was awesome!" I thought to myself as I drove off.       

You Don't Always Have To Follow The Rules

For most people, their teenage years and early twenties are a fun, exciting, wild, but also awkward period of time in their lives.  It's the time in our lives when we're supposed to be having the most fun, but we're simultaneously going through that somewhat uncomfortable stage in our lives where we're trying to find ourselves and discover who we really are.  We try so hard to fit in, hide our insecurities, and we care way too much about what other people think and how they interpret us.  I would have to say I was no different.  During my high school and college years, I was always wondering what other people thought of me and I worried about how well I fit in.  But for most people, there comes a time in life where they stop caring about what others think, and they're no longer afraid to completely be themselves.  Their concern about other people's opinions slowly melts away, and they strip themselves of the social barriers they built up during their formative years.  It takes a certain level of maturity for people to realize that we're all different in our own way, and that's what makes us unique, so why not embrace it?  This phase often begins when people are in their mid-twenties and continues throughout the rest of their lives. 

For as long as I can remember, I've always been different.  I've had several amazing groups of friends throughout my entire life, and I've always gotten along well with my family, but even among them, I was unique.  As a kid and a young teenager living in the Midwest, I watched, as so many other kids around me seemed to just go with the herd.  They did what they were supposed to do.  They didn't question anything, they didn't step out of line.  They watched college football inside all day on Saturdays, played football and basketball, dressed a certain way, and listened to classic rock and hip hop.  Even though some of my best friends fell into this category, I quickly realized that wasn't for me at all.  I wanted to have some fun.  I wanted to be a rebel.  Instead, I snowboarded, played tennis, rode my bike, listened to punk rock, and wore black t-shirts with rock n' roll imagery printed on them.  My father has always been a die hard Red Wings and University of Michigan football fan.  I loved watching hockey because of it's fast pace playing style and the excitement of the game itself, but I could never get into football.  It was boring to me.  I've been a Red Wings fan all my life, and I love hockey.  I tried for years, all the way into my early twenties to get as excited for football games as my family and friends did, but the excitement was never truly there.  I do watch football from time to time, but I'm often neutral in terms of who I root for.

I struggled to find my identity as a kid.  I wanted to be myself, but I also cared about what others thought of me.  As my sister would put it, I "went through more phases than probably anyone she knew".  During my high school and college years, I, like so many others, tried to hide my differences in an effort to be accepted.  I abandoned the rock n' roll t-shirts, wore preppier clothes, and cranked rap music in my car.  I pretended to care about football and basketball more than I actually did (I was a hockey fan), and generally just tried to fit in.  The same Liam was always there, but my true self was concealed in a shell.  It was around when I turned twenty-four that I finally just decided to say "the hell with it" and let my true self shine.  Once I did, it was incredibly liberating.  Shortly after college, most of the guys I went to school with were settling back into their hometowns, proposing to their girlfriends, and some were even married already and talking about having children.  "I'm moving to California" I would tell people.  I was happy for my friends and wished them the best, but I didn't want to follow the herd.  I wanted to do my own thing, and do what I wanted.  Some people simply didn't believe me.  It's not that they were questioning my ambition, it's just that the thought of moving to California was so far from their snow globe of a world, that they just couldn't fathom it.  Other people encouraged me, and others said I shouldn't do it because they didn't want me to live so far away.  But in March of 2012, after several years of trying, I finally realized my California dream.  I left Chicago, where I was living at the time, and permanently relocated to Los Angeles.  I never looked back. 

Even now, as a thirty-two year old man, I'd rather follow my passions and live an exciting life than do what I'm supposed to do in a conventional world.  Certainly it's not unheard of for people in a traditional world to run 10K races or half marathons, but running fifty miles on trails through the mountains is a feat that most people in a normal world can't wrap their heads around.  I run ultramarathons simply because I love to run, but it's also a subconscious way of rebelling against the world that says we all have to be a certain way.  The world that says we should follow the rules and stay in line.  The world that says I shouldn't run ultramarathons because it's not normal.  The same world that surrounded me during my youth.  Fortunately, I've had great support from my family and friends along the way, even if they don't quite understand my lifestyle.  I've broken the rules of living in a traditional world all my life, and I would encourage everyone else to do the same.  No one should ever give up on their dreams because they feel like it's not the right thing to do.  And similarly, no one should ever tell you that you shouldn't do what you want in life because it's silly or not normal.  As Dean Karnazes said in his third book "follow dreams, not rules".  Find your passion, and stick with it.  We only have one life to live, and I'm damn sure not going to waste it away by being miserable in an ordinary world where I just do what I'm told!