As an aspiring long-distance runner and a person familiar with biblical metaphors, I am full of ways to explain the challenges of life with addiction through the language of endurance in the outdoors.

But before we get all deep and philosophical perhaps a more literal explanation of the why of my running, the how of my running and how it all had to change when I hit bottom.

Life has always been about escapism, from the Kenner toys and VHS that took me to a galaxy far far away as a kid, to the fantasy that adult magazines used to spark the fire of addiction followed by the years of pursuing an image of self that I and others could be proud of, I have always been looking for a way out of real life and being the me in the mirror, never feeling good enough.

Running and the outdoors used to be my escape, that mindset had to flip when I hit my bottom. Running away was no longer an option, there is no escape from addiction, and no distraction could plaster over the “I’m fucked” reality of where my addictive behaviour took me.

About two years ago I hit a wall with my running, just weeks prior I run 18 miles and felt like I was going to crack a marathon but here one mile in and my head was different. All this stuff was still with me and my trainers felt like lead boots. I no longer felt I could chuck some headphones in and get away from everything while I ran. No volume could drown out the sound of the cogs in my brain.

I lay down and practised some breathwork and centred myself, I made the decision headphones stay at home and from now on I run with my mind and my thoughts became my music.

I finally cracked that marathon after I learnt to travel and be grounded in the present, I had booked well in advance a trail marathon, not just your average but one with scores of winding hills, 26 miles with thousands of feet of elevation.

The experience was the pinnacle of months of commitment, consistency and drive to complete something I knew would be painful and difficult. I didn’t execute the plan perfectly but it gave me the legs and lungs to complete the task. I will never forget the last mile and a half as I ran with cramps and a ball of emotions as I teared up.

I had exorcised some demons, that voice that’s plagued me my whole life that says I’m not good enough was told to get in the sea.

They say you learn a lot about yourself in a marathon and that I did, I learnt my relationship with myself was and always will be key, where I get my value and self-worth from cannot be rooted in other people’s perceptions of me. I am more than my past actions and decisions and if anyone else wants to look at me and say otherwise then that’s not for me to dwell on.

My next race will hopefully be an ultra marathon but to get there I feel some recent events have taken me back to that place where my runs feel like I’m carrying those lead boots and the peace I found in my being present in my running has gotten noisy again. But I know this process and it shall pass.

My workout runs ask me to score the activity, how difficult was it? And how did I feel? The perceived effort is a vital metric for training, recognising one’s load is an important part of avoiding injury and is also a life skill to safeguard against burnout.

In my last few runs, I have found it hard and I feel weak, this perception is naturally negatively influenced by my circumstance and mood, I will take some time and come back to the ultra at a later date, my mental health is important because without it nothing works.

My next outdoor challenge will wait for now, sometimes life throws other types of mountains at you. I know that in the last few years, I have put the work in, I have owned my mess with honesty and embraced as many tools as possible to clean up my side of the street and as a result, I feel stronger.

My perceived effort for life, service, love, connection and empathy all show that I am fit for the ups and downs of the next few miles and if anyone else thinks differently I just need to remember they do so from the sidelines.