My Left Foot

. . . eats my sock.

I always suspected this, but it was confirmed on my long run Sunday, when I wore a pair of new Thorlo Experia socks. I had to stop at mile 8 or so to pull the sock back up, and I could have done it again before the end of the run. It’s funny because the right foot doesn’t do it–just the left foot. Theories?

The knee held up for the longer run remarkably well, especially considering that I forgot the knee brace. I started the run later than I should have. It was player evaluation day for the Lamb’s youth soccer league, and she needed to be at the fields, decked out in full regalia, at 8:30. Which meant I really needed to be back at the house by 7. So I should have started the run by 5.

I did not.

I set out for 12 miles at an easy pace and did remarkably well at keeping an easy pace during the early miles. I took a gel at mile 5 and started heading north. I knew time was going to be tight, but I really wanted to put in the 12 miles. My turnaround for that mileage would be the 8-mile mark. When I got there and looked at the clock, I knew I was going to be tight on time, so I started picking up the pace, from 10-minute miles to 9:30. Mile 9 came in at 9:10. I took another gel there and decided to bear down even more. I knew it might not be the wisest thing for my knee, but I’d left myself no choice–I had to get back to get Soccer Lamb to evaluations. The last three miles were run at about half-marathon pace–about 8:30.

Amazingly, the knee didn’t hurt at all. I ran an easy 4 on Sunday and it was my legs themselves that felt tired–just very, very tired. In spite of that, my pace for that run was right around 9:30.

The new socks get a thumbs-up, I think. I’ll try them again tomorrow and I’ll let you know if my Nikes do a better job of leaving my socks alone.

Anyone else have hungry shoes?

Running week summary:
Sunday: easy 4mi, about 10:15 pace–knee okay til water stop @ mile 1, then achy and iffy rest of way.
Monday: rest day
Tuesday: easy 7 with Little G, about 9:30 pace, wearing brace.
Wednesday, rest day.
Thursday: easy 7 avoiding rain @ about 9:16, celebrating pain-free knee.
Friday, rest day.
Saturday: 12 mi in 1:55.
total mileage: 30 miles in 4:47:31

*The Lamb made it to soccer evaluations, on time, with shin guards, soccer socks appropriately pulled all the way up, pink water bottle, and pink soccer ball. She then proceeded to weep and refuse to participate in the first drill. She’d warmed up by the time the second drill came around, though, and was very proud of herself for “scoring a goal” every time she faced the unguarded net in the fourth drill. She’ll be assigned to a team sometime this week and play in her first match in September–four on four under-six players, no goalies, no score. Raising athletes is quite a thrill.

Not About Me

Set out for an intended seven yesterday, watching distant flashes of lightning as I did so. I figured it was heat lightning–all the flashes were contained within one distant cloud formation, and I’d checked the radar before I left and there was only one storm in our vicinity, to our south, and it didn’t look like it would reach us before I was done with my run.

So out I went for seven. But before I got very far I heard thunder to accompany the lightning–a feature that doesn’t usually come with heat lightning–and I started to make alternate plans, just in case. I figured I could turn around at the 2-mile point and put in four, then do 4 today, when I intended to take a day off, and still be okay for a long run Saturday. Well, at about the 1.5 mark, it started to sprinkle on me, just a light misty rain, as if to confirm that turning around would indeed be best.

I waited until Garmie trilled at me and turned tail, heading home, but the rain stopped almost immediately, never having been more than a gentle sprinkle. The lightning subsided; the storm moved away. When I passed the street that would take me home, therefore, I thought I’d put in another mile out, closing in on six miles total, and then ended up adding a little more mileage and finishing out my seven for the day. Today, therefore, ended up being a rest day after all. I intend to put in a double-digit run tomorrow, at a slow pace.

But today I wanted to reflect on what I was praying through as I was running those seven miles. You know, right after the marathon, even though I knew how tired I was when I reached the taper, which in some ways felt like its own finish line, I almost didn’t want to take any recovery time. I like to think I’m not stupid, but two weeks after the marathon, I was on track to run about 25 miles–back at 50% of my highest training mileage.

I don’t want to get my theology twisted and tell you that I think God sent the soccer-playing dynamo to kick my toenail off. I don’t put my faith in a God that perverse. But I will tell you that he used the event to bench me and earn me some rest–following that injury, though the podiatrist told me he thought I’d be running again in about a week, I was actually “out of my shoes,” as Lindsay says, for twelve days. It was probably just the rest I needed.

Now, here I am, probably complaining a little more than I need to about a knee that’s been giving me trouble almost since I started running. And what I write here doesn’t begin to reflect how much mental space I’m giving it while I’m not writing here–considering changing shoes, doing new exercises, chewing over my running schedule with the Boss until he wants to hand me my shoes and say, “Run or don’t run, just shut up!”

He hasn’t said that yet.

I find this amazing because of his situation. You see, the Boss would give anything to be able to debate whether to go out and practice his sport of choice. Two years ago, while out hitting with his tennis partner, the Boss discovered he could not see the tennis ball very well. After extensive testing, he received a confirmed diagnosis of multiple sclerosis. At the time we were told that he would probably eventually receive some of his sight back, but he has not.

Please don’t misunderstand me. We’re exceedingly grateful for our blessings–many MS sufferers lose mobility as the disease attacks the spinal cord; in the Boss’s case, the attack has been localized to the optic nerve. The only thing he’s lost is the ability to see small objects flying towards him at high speeds. Maybe he’d never have noticed if he wasn’t a tennis player; I don’t know.

But he is a tennis player; he must miss his sport. Heck, I miss mine when I’m on the bench for three days! But my better half–and maybe sharing this will you will give you an inkling of why it is my privilege to refer to this man as the Boss, though we actually share the workload around here in a very balanced, modern way–does not complain about his diagnosis. He’s purchased tennis racquets for all three of his family members and takes us hitting regularly, sharing his sport with us and coaching all three of us to become better players, though he will never play competitively again. This is a man who went to college on a scholarship and, until his diagnosis, played on a fairly competitive recreational team.

So, you see, I’m reminded that God’s grace is not about me! When I’m benched, when I’m disciplined, when I’m taught something about character and grace and endurance–not in sport but in life and faith–it’s about something much bigger than me.

And in the end, I pray I always remember, while I want to be a great runner, I want to be a great Christ follower more than that.

While I want to get a medal at my next race, my true goal is to earn a crown that will never tarnish.

And while I would love to hear the crowds roaring as I come to the finish in–dare I hope it–1:48–more than that, I want to hear the quiet voice of my Lord saying, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

God, give me an eternal perspective–yes, even on my knees!

*Interestingly, when I got home and got the paper, the lead article in our local section was about a man who was struck by lightning as he loaded up his truck–in my neighborhood. So I felt vindicated by my original plan of turning around if the storm got closer. Take lightning seriously, running friends.

The Plan

Went out for four miles on Sunday morning, just to test the knee.

It felt good at the outset. When I stopped for water at mile 1–it was hot, and this is where the water fountain is on my route–I felt it when I set back out. It was iffy–like it wasn’t tracking right as I landed. Weird. It took me a few strides to get it back in gear. I was definitely glad I’d gotten up late and was only putting in four miles.

As I was running, I was thinking about the first time I went to see the orthopedist with knee pain. It was just after my first half marathon, a race I finished in so much pain I didn’t think I could run another mile, ever. He x-rayed both knees, telling me I’d developed a case of patellar tendinitis due to building up my mileage too quickly. It wasn’t terminal–I could keep running, in fact–but I had to stop doing speedwork, run no hills, and take an extra day’s rest until the pain subsided.

I followed his advice for a few months, until it was time to start training for my next half marathon, in fact. I had no knee pain to speak of (well, until I started ramping up my mileage for the marathon–apparently, my knees don’t deal well with sudden high mileage).

So, I think I’ll take the same prescription for my knee pain this time around. It’s nowhere near where the pain was last time–that time, March 2007, it was  at about a 10, this time about a 3. But I don’t want to keep running on it and make it get to a 10 in October, a month before the race. So, for now, I’m going to stop doing speedwork, and I’m definitely laying off the bridge I use for hillwork. I’m also–and this is the part that really hurts–taking an extra day’s rest, until I can run pain-free.

Went out for my run with Little G yesterday. Since it was the first day of school, she was expecting more traffic on her way to work, and I had to put my firstborn child, the Lamb, on the school bus for her first day of kindergarten*. So we cut our run short by a mile. In deference both to my iffy knee and the insanely unfriendly conditions (82 degrees, 80% humidity–at four-thirty in the morning, two hours before sunrise), we ran our seven miles  about thirty seconds per mile slower than we usually do. It was still a good training run.

Today, a day off–hating every minute of the hour I should have been running, which I spent lying still in bed and trying not to wake the Boss. Tomorrow, out for five or six miles, at whatever pace my knee will bear up. Friday, off; Saturday, the long run length the knee will bear up under. All these runs with a tight neoprene brace, which seem to support the knee, and which the doctor agreed will help, at least temporarily.

*Yes, Palm Beach County–well, all of southeastern Florida, I think–starts school very early. We also end early, on June 1 this year, in fact. The Lamb reports that kindergarten was “a lot of fun,” but that she “thought about home” a little bit.

Time Off

It’s the left knee again. Little G and I were running together on Wednesday–talking about something that made us really animated. So we’re running about 8:30 pace, perfect tempo pace for us. And then, around mile 2, I just felt it–my knee suddenly didn’t land right. It hurt for a few strides before we stopped; I walked for a couple of minutes and we set out again, slowing down to about a nine-minute mile. But about a mile and a half later the pain was back–I took another walk break and we slowed down even further, to 9:30 pace, so now we’ve shelved the tempo completely and are down to easy pace. We still finished out the intended 8, though.

I came in, took ibuprofen, and got ice on the knee. I took yesterday off. There’ll be no long run tomorrow since it’s time to sign up the animals for swimming lessons again and I have a commitment to keep in the evening. I thought about going out to try out a few miles this morning, but I had to wonder what that would accomplish in the long run?

Though I hate not running, I decided to take today off too. I hate the three missed days in a row, and my mileage is shot for the week, but I’d rather do it now than closer to race day.

In the meantime, I’m wondering about how to avoid the knee pain in the future. Are the barefoot runners right? Are my stability shoes getting in the way of my running and hurting me rather than helping me?

Sunday will see me out bright and early, setting out at an easy pace to see how the knee feels. We’ll hope for a happy, pain-free run.

About my Extended Absence

No, I have not quit running. No, I am not injured, and no, I have not lost my compulsion to write about my training.

Only, in the last few weeks, did I lose any time to tell you about my training, and I apologize to the few of you who actually were checking to see what I was up to; I find it disappointing to check the blogs I follow to find no new updates. How dare they not keep me up-to-date?

So, I apologize for that.

Training season for my upcoming half marathon started this week, on Sunday. Predictably, the week before that, I caught the Lamb’s cold. Also predictably, since stubbornness is both my best and worst attribute as a runner, I chose to run through it (hey, I never had a fever) (okay, I never checked). I logged close to 40 miles that week in spite of it, though I did take off Thursday, my most congested day. Instead, I ran Friday, my regular off day, then ran long Saturday with Little G, and did 14 miles. Ran again Sunday, my new embedded-circuit training 4-miler. Ran another 4 Monday, the day my car broke down (don’t want to talk about it) and the a/c at the house stopped working. After sleeping in 90-degree heat, I decided to shirk the run Tuesday. I’d run 27 miles on 4 consecutive days and decided adding another 19 or so in the next 3 wasn’t going to add anything, or get me off on the right foot for the first week of training. It was supposed to be speedwork day, an admittedly important part of my training for my half, but here was my logic:

1. Little G and I ran our 14 on Saturday–in July–in 2:11. That’s including one mile on the sand at a 10:30 pace. So I’m pretty sure I could still sub-2 a half this weekend, pretty much, if I chose.
2. It’s the beginning of training, not the end of it. I’m not burning myself out right now just for training’s sake.
3. I doubt if on race day, sixteen weeks out, I’ll cross the line in 1:55 or anywhere else short of my goal, look back, and think, “You know what, it’s that one day of mile repeats that I missed that did me in.” Yes, I shirked it. No, I’m not sorry.

And that’s the story of my first week of training. Today I did another 8½ with Little G. Both of us felt pretty wiped when we started, but we finished in about 1:10, giving us hope of a good training season.

Okay, again, I apologize for my silence; I intend to be better about being accountable.

He Kicked It Clean Off (Yes, Again)

I’m pretty sure I neglected to mention it, but a thin, sickly-looking nail had begun to grow over my left big toe. It was growing unevenly, faster on the side where the doctor had “surgically” removed it, and slower where it had been forcibly removed by the soccer playing dynamo at the park. Nonetheless, it was growing.

And then, one fateful day, as we were going about our normal Sunday routine and hanging out at Grandma and Grandpa’s, me in my sandals, the Monkey got too close and kicked that toenail off too.

Go ahead, read it again.

No, he didn’t kick it off from the nailbed this time–more like it tore because it was so thin. Mercifully, because it was not attached to the skin, it didn’t hurt at all this time. I was instantly concerned, however, because now the nail was torn, and my female readers especially will understand that once a nail is torn, it comes off much more easily.

From that day on, I kept the toenail covered with a bandaid contstantly.

Yesterday, the Lamb noticed that the one end that was growing faster might, in her opinion, be ready to be trimmed. I wondered if I could do it myself without hurting the rest of the nail, as, sure enough, the tear was now sliding across the width of the toenail. Upon closer inspection, only one small corner of the nail was actually attached on the left side. I wondered if it might be necessary to remove it again. I made a mental note to try to see the podiatrist as soon as possible.

Then, this morning, as I was preparing for my run, the top of the nail got snagged on my sock and guess what? Yep, you guessed it–the entire nail came off. Again.

On the up side, this is the nicest that toe has looked since I lost the toenail. I might even add pictures later.

I am Not Injured

No, really, say it with me: I am not injured.

At least, I don’t think so. All the same, since I’m not in the middle of training, I’m kinda-sorta taking it easy. On Monday I didn’t get up early to run, so I ran on the treadmill. My right leg had already started bothering me–I had twinges from my hip all the way to my knee–I’m afraid to say out loud what that sounds like.

I thought maybe it was because of the speed of the long run with Little G; in fact, I’d purposely planned not to run with her because we do run so fast together. But when I ran into her I was genuinely glad to see her–I was stressed out over some things going on and needed a wise, Christ-centered woman to talk things over with, so I saw this as God smiling down on me.

Alas, driving the Boss’s stick shift, which I had for part of the weekend, was decidedly difficult with the twingy leg. Monday’s hill work may have made the leg even more twingy, and that evening’s yoga session, which worked our hips and hamstrings especially, probably exacerbated things.

And what did I do on Tuesday? Anybody? Anybody?

That’s right–speedwork. Half-mile intervals at 7:39 average, with quarter-mile recoveries. Yep. Still twingy. Iced the hip that night.

Did not get up to run yesterday. Sleepy, plus it was a Bible study morning and I had tons to do.

What’s that you say? Did I take the day off like a good, not-in-training, maybe-injured runner would do? Come now, that would make altogether too much sense.

No, I put 4 on the treadmill.

Today, I slept in–long story, but it’s something about how the Lamb has been coughing a lot* and I changed the settings on my alarm clock and forgot to change them back–but the Boss encouraged me to get out anyway as it’s the only time I spend by myself all day. Did I go for a nice, leisurely walk like a good, not-in-training, maybe-injured runner should?

Actually, yes I did. For about a half-mile. Then I put in an easy four.

The leg actually felt better after I got into some kind of running rhythm, and doesn’t hurt now–thank goodness I have my automatic-drive minivan back. I might ice it again just for icing’s sake, but as I sit here typing, it doesn’t, actually, hurt.

So, will I take the day off tomorrow, like a good, not-in-training, maybe-injured runner should?

I have a 5k race on Memorial Day. Come now.

*We noticed it for the first time two weekends ago; I may have even posted about it here. She had a cough and was really congested, but had no fever. Then the congestion and cough seemed to ease. Then a few days later, the same symptoms returned. It was easy to blame all the symptoms on allergies since she has many and, like I said, she never had a fever**. Earlier this week, she woke us with a hacking cough, so we’ve been putting the humidifier in her room to help her breathe. Dad moved into the spare bed into her room to keep an ear on her (I tell ya, he’s a gem!)  Today, I felt her throat and neck and noticed her lymph nodes were swollen, so off to the doctor we went. The news is that, though it was probably initially allergies, we are looking at the beginning of an upper respiratory infection. She’s also got a slight wheeze, so we’re on an additional allergy medication, an antibiotic, and Albuterol syrup for the wheeze, with the additional recommendation for some more allergy testing, and, perhaps, a peak flow meter reading at her annual checkup since she’s got a family history of asthma. Ah, say it isn’t so!

**Although, I have to say, my kids can have raging infections without their temperatures being raised so much as a tenth of a degree, so I shouldn’t take this as an indicator of wellness.

Cutback Week?

Yeah, didn’t get that run in Friday. Just a bad week last week all around. Ended up running only three days, about eight miles each time. So I got in 25 miles, which isn’t bad for a lousy 3 runs, but isn’t the 30 miles I just said was my weekly goal while not in training. And running 3 times a week is far from my ideal 5 weekly runs. I didn’t get a long run in due to travel, which I knew would happen . . . and so it goes.

On the upside, it was the third week following weeks of 34 and 33 miles respectively, and maybe a cutback week was in order. I took my running shoes (new Brooks Adrenalines!) and clothes with me on our short trip, hoping to run either on the roads (though on our drive in to the hotel I quickly realized that WAS NOT going to be a possibility) or on the hotel’s treadmill*. But that did not happen either–the Lamb started complaining of a scratchy throat on the first thirty minutes of the drive, and spent the entire weekend with a tissue box in her lap. The Boss played a charity golf tournament on Saturday morning. By late that afternoon he was registering a temperature of 101 and had body aches and an overall yucky feeling. By that evening he had an upset stomach and feared his record of 10 years without upchucking was greatly at risk.

We headed home early Sunday morning, Mom trying to hold everybody together–Monkey and she still healthy, Boss still refusing to surrender the reins to the family minivan (it’s “his job” to drive as long as he is able, says he). I didn’t much mourn the loss of my weekend run. Three days of rest, while not in training, are not the end of all things.

Returned to the road today, planning to put in an easy eight. But, on the turnaround for the 8, I just decided not to do it–my heart wasn’t in it. And the beautiful thing about not being in training is that I can do that, pull the plug on runs that just aren’t coming together. I turned the corner for the 6-mile loop instead. Now, at the 5½-mile mark, I did feel good, and instead of turning for home I added another couple miles, so I ended up with a total 7½ after all, though they were slow, but it felt good to be the boss of the run for once.

Ran with my handheld bottle again. It was 75 when I set out and yes, summer’s definitely on its way. The beetles were out again, and, as the sun started to come up, so were the jays, the cardinals, and those big black birds that inhabit our suburban streets. Even a bad run is a great way to start the day!

In other health news, at my insistence, and as a nod to the little kids in our house, the Boss went down to the health center in his building–one benefit to working for a very large company. He described his symptoms to the medical staff and asked whether he needed to be seen. We were concerned that the spike in temperature was an immune-system response, because of his MS. Their response? No, since he only registered a fever on Saturday, and his temperature had returned to normal and he’s been recovering steadily since then, they don’t need to examine him. However, in the future, he is to “proceed immediately to the nearest urgent care center and” (this is the funny, CYA part) “not enter the building until he has been seen by a doctor.”

Yikes, are we a little freaked by the whole pig thing? Well, I want to understand their position. In fact, as a nod to the swine flu and its inherent . . . um . . . sensibilities, I kept the Lamb home from school today. She feels better, but her nose is still runny.

MTA: Oh, and now, other parts of her body are . . . um . . . runny as well. Good thing she’s home after all.

*That best human gift of mine, the Boss, specifically chose the hotel based on the fact that it had a fitness center. Is he a prize?

**Found my bestest favoritest running shoes of all, the Nike Structure Triax 11, on sale at the Nike Outlet, while we were gone. They were only $60, too, which is a real bargain. Okay, so I’m supposed to wear 9 wides on my super duck feet, and these are not wides, but I think maybe I’ll be okay. The last time I was fitted for shoes the running shoes guy said he wasn’t sure why I was fitted into wide shoes and said he suspected I could run in regular shoes without ill effect. Well, we’re about to find out! Me loves these shoes!

Off-Season Goals

Because just because I’m not in training doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about my next race.

Here’s what I’m concentrating on while I’m not consciously consciously not working on my running speed and mileage:

1. as always, avoiding injury
2. strengthening my core
3. reducing the imbalance in my leg muscles by strengthening all leg muscles
4. maintaining a base of 30 mpw
5. maintaining a long run base of 10-14 miles
6. mixing it up with some speed once in a while
7. taking it easy most days and running by feel

I’m very consciously trying to keep the goals, mileage, and speed light, so that when it’s time to ramp up the training I can do that without burning out. I don’t want a repeat of the feeling I had in January, when I couldn’t wait to reach taper. It felt like it was too late to back out of the marathon, yet too early to feel so tired all the time. Maybe that’s part of marathon training, especially your first one, but I can’t help but feel that I could have avoided it by taking a lighter season of training in the early spring. Fortunately, the 30 miles per week does feel easy now, as do the long runs in the 10 to 14 mile range. Yoga is helping me not only strengthen my core but also teaching me new ways to stretch and lengthen my muscles post-run. Some poses are definitely difficult, not to say impossible, for me, pinpointing muscles that need to be coaxed and babied and moved along. It feels good to move in ways that are so different from running, to balance and breathe and work on the fine-tuning of that part of my mind-body connection.

As you know, hopefully, I mean that in a totally non-hokey way.

I’m an athlete, for cryin’ out loud.

Kinda Dread my New Meds

Went to see the neuro the other day.

I really like him. When he’s ready for you, he calls you back himself, and instead of showing you into the next, smaller waiting room, he actually ushers you into his examining room. You don’t get weighed by a nurse, or pestered with blood pressure readings or any of that introductory information; instead, he sits down and you get right into the “meat” of the appointment–he opens your file and says, “So, it’s been a while. What’s going on?”

So I told him how last time I came to see him we talked about reducing my dosage of my controller migraine medication, if all went well and the frequency of my migraines continued to decrease. But, instead, during the last six to three months the frequency of my migraines has increased instead. I’m frustrated by this, though I shouldn’t be surprised–if there’s one thing I know about my body is that it has a tendency to become accustomed to medication, so that something that works well for one year stops working after a while unless you up the dosage. Well, upping the dosage of Topamax is pretty much out of the question–it’s hard on the kidneys and at my current dosage we’re pretty much maxed out for my body weight, especially considering my family history of kidney stones, which is one reason all I drink is water and cranberry juice.

We’ve tried reducing my migraines through nixing my triggers, but my only noticeable trigger is lack of sleep. So I do control my sleep patterns–when I don’t go to bed early enough I don’t get up and run, and if necessary I take a midday nap. I’ve tried tracking what I eat and none of the normal foods triggers my migraines. My hormones don’t do it. I’m exercising, so that’s not it. In fact, my new migraine pattern started after I got back to a healthy weight, which is also frustrating.

After this initial conversation, the doctor asked me to get on the examining table for a blood pressure reading–it was high, but understandably so, given my level of emotion and the fact that this was the day after my dad’s surgery. He checked my eyes, reflexes, and heel-to-toe walking pattern.

Then we sat down again and he said, “Well, I hear the frustration in your voice.”

He agreed that more Topamax was out of the question. But then he said he’d heard me saying that once in a while, though I plan to get eight hours of sleep, I have hours where I lie in bed, not sleeping, but wide awake, and can’t return to a restful state. I also suffer from hypnagogic hallucinations, vivid dream-like visions occurring just after sleep that are so life-like and frightening (especially as they come on with sleep paralysis) they sometimes keep me from trying to go back to sleep. Naturally, these are more likely to happen when I am most tired and in need of sleep.

Therefore, he said, though adding more medication was exactly what he’d hoped to avoid, it was most important at this moment to keep me from having to take my attack meds twice a week, which is where we are now. So, starting now, we’re adding a new medication, with a very small dosage at first, increasing slowly for three weeks, to help me sleep.

I didn’t recognize the drug’s name–it’s not Ambien or any of the sleep aids I hear advertised on TV. I came home and Googled it and what do you know? It’s prescribed as an antidepressant, though at five times the dosage I’ll hit once I’m at the maximum strength my neurologist wants me in three weeks.

I’m alternately happy and frightened to be messing with my brain chemistry. Twice in the five nights since that appointment, I’ve had bad nights, sleeping restlessly or not at all. Though migraines have not followed, I know partly it’s because I’ve made choices to help avoid them (for instance, I slept in today instead of running my scheduled six-miler).

Since my brain doesn’t seem to be working so well on its own, shouldn’t I be happy to be helping it along? I don’t know.

Maybe my ambivalence is proof enough that I need the antidepressant, huh?