What is *Depression Hates a Moving Target* about?

*Depression Hates a Moving Target* is Nita Sweeney’s memoir detailing her journey from battling chronic depression and bipolar disorder to becoming an ultramarathon runner. Through running with her dog, Scarlet, she discovered resilience, reduced her reliance on antidepressants, and rebuilt her mental health. The book intertwines personal struggle with practical insights on how physical activity can combat mental illness.

Who should read *Depression Hates a Moving Target*?

This book is ideal for readers interested in mental health recovery, running enthusiasts, or anyone seeking inspiration to overcome life’s challenges. It resonates with those who enjoy memoirs about personal transformation, pet companionship, or stories of midlife reinvention.

Is *Depression Hates a Moving Target* worth reading?

Yes—the book is an Amazon #1 bestseller in bipolar disorder and running categories, short-listed for the William Faulkner-Wisdom Award, and won a Maxwell Medallion for its exploration of the human-animal bond. Critics praise its raw honesty and uplifting message.

How does running help combat depression, according to the book?

Sweeney credits running with providing structure, releasing endorphins, and fostering a sense of accomplishment. Her gradual progression from 60-second jogs to marathons helped her manage anxiety, reduce medication, and regain control over her mental health.

What are the key lessons from *Depression Hates a Moving Target*?

Key takeaways include the importance of incremental progress, the therapeutic power of physical activity, and the role of community support. Sweeney emphasizes that endurance in running mirrors resilience in mental health struggles.

How does Nita Sweeney’s dog, Scarlet, contribute to her journey?

Scarlet, her yellow Labrador, acts as a loyal running partner and emotional anchor. Their bond highlights how pets provide unconditional support, motivation to stay active, and a sense of purpose during low moments.

Can *Depression Hates a Moving Target* help non-runners?

Yes—while running is central, the book’s themes of perseverance, mindfulness, and seeking joy in small victories apply broadly. Sweeney’s meditation practices and candid storytelling offer tools for anyone facing mental health challenges.

How does the book address balancing running with mental health setbacks?

Sweeney shares strategies like the run-walk method, chi running techniques, and adaptive training plans. She openly discusses navigating injuries, manic episodes, and self-doubt while maintaining a running routine.

달리기라는 묘약

니타 스위니

3.72(1937 Reviews)

달리기라는 묘약 개요

우울증으로 인해 니타 스위니(Nita Sweeney)의 삶이 마비되었을 때, 그녀는 반려견과 함께 달리며 구원을 얻었습니다. 운동 부족이었던 그녀는 이를 통해 마라톤 주자로 거듭났습니다. 아마존 베스트셀러 1위에 오른 이 책은 약물 치료와 상담만으로는 충분하지 않았던 순간, 왜 움직임이 정신 질환을 치유하는지 밝히며 수천 명의 사람들에게 다시 신발 끈을 묶을 영감을 줍니다.

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한 권의 책, 다양한 듣기 방식.

달리기라는 묘약의 같은 아이디어를 담았습니다. 나에게 맞는 목소리, 깊이, 속도를 고르고 언제든 바꿔 보세요.

1장

When Running Becomes a Lifeline: One Woman's Journey Through Depression

Depression hates a moving target. This simple yet profound insight forms the heart of Nita Sweeney's transformative memoir, which has become a beacon of hope for countless readers battling mental health challenges. The book chronicles how a middle-aged, overweight woman with severe depression transformed her life through running, one sixty-second interval at a time. Since its publication, "Depression Hates a Moving Target" has garnered a devoted following among mental health advocates, running enthusiasts, and celebrities like Bella Hadid who praised it for its raw honesty. The memoir's cultural impact extends beyond literary circles-it's frequently recommended by therapists and has inspired running groups specifically for those with depression and anxiety. Sweeney's journey resonates because it offers something rare: a practical, accessible path through the darkness that doesn't require extraordinary talent or resources-just the willingness to put one foot in front of the other.

2장

Off the Sofa and into the Ravine

Five months before turning forty-nine, I slouched on my sofa in pajamas, scrolling through social media when a high school friend's post about running caught my attention. Depression had wrapped itself around me like a heavy cloak, yet somehow these posts planted themselves like seeds in my consciousness. One March day, inspired by daffodils pushing through the winter-hardened soil, I returned to a running website despite the voice in my head warning "This might kill you." I wrestled tube socks over my flabby calves, squeezed trail shoes onto my swollen feet, grabbed a digital kitchen timer and my dog Morgan's leash. In the secluded ravine near my home, I set the timer for sixty seconds and began to jog. The pain was immediate-my chest hurt as my breasts bounced uncomfortably in my ancient sports bra. I slowed and bent my knees to reduce the bouncing. When the timer finally beeped, I shouted "We did it!" though Morgan hadn't needed to break stride at my glacial pace. I alternated walking and jogging for twenty minutes, sweating from genuine exertion for the first time in ages. The walk home felt like floating, and during my nap afterward, I dreamed of flying. I kept this small victory secret, not wanting to raise hopes or invite discouragement. After completing the first week's workouts, I ventured beyond the ravine into the neighborhood, imagining neighbors staring though they probably weren't. By week two, when intervals increased to ninety seconds, I needed fewer naps and had more energy, though I still battled inner voices mocking my efforts. This modest beginning-just sixty seconds of jogging-would eventually lead to marathons, but more importantly, it would become my most effective weapon against the depression that had nearly destroyed me.

들리는 모든 단어를 눈으로 확인하세요

달리기라는 묘약의 각 단어가 오디오에 맞춰 실시간으로 강조되어 편하게 따라 읽을 수 있습니다.

3장

The Reluctant Runner Emerges

After two weeks of my covert running program, I finally told Ed, my husband of almost two decades. Through my many pursuits-from moving to New Mexico to study writing, turning our basement into a meditation studio, and even my unexpected stay in the psych ward after our first anniversary-Ed had remained steadfastly supportive. Still, I hesitated to share this new endeavor, valuing his opinion deeply. My history with running was complicated. I'd tried briefly in high school to lose weight despite not being overweight, struggled up Appalachian hills in college before depression derailed me, and enjoyed a period in the late 1980s while practicing law. When Ed and I got together, I ran around a nearby park, felt fit, but eventually fell into dangerous obsession and compulsive dieting before depression took over. I never expected to run again. When I told Ed about my new running routine, he simply advised, "Don't be a runner. Be an interval trainer." His stoic encouragement, without pressure or skepticism, gave me the propulsion to continue despite my doubts. With Morgan, our rescued yellow Lab, as my companion, I pushed through week three's doubled jogging time. I discovered running was in my genes-my father had been a record-setting relay anchor in high school. Despite feeling fat as a child, I only gained considerable weight in my thirties when I started antidepressants. With my father's long legs and arms but short body, I had a runner's build without knowing it. Realizing my trail shoes were too heavy, I visited a running store for proper equipment. The young clerk suggested cushioned support shoes after watching my gait. I spent more money on running gear than I had on any clothing in years, buying not just shoes but specialized socks with colored tops. I left feeling like a serious jogger! When my friend Krista suggested I participate in Race for the Cure, I nearly knocked over my coffee. "I'm not leaving the neighborhood," I insisted. Despite her enthusiasm about races being "parties for people who exercise," I couldn't imagine joining 20,000 people in pink clothes. "I'm a private runner," I declared, thinking of my neighborhood intervals with Morgan as therapy rather than sport.

4장

Finding My Tribe in Unexpected Places

The Penguins online forum became my first running community. When I shared my progress conquering hills, they cheered. They taught me terminology like "fartlek" (Swedish for "speed play") and discussed gear from hydration belts to tech shirts. As my knowledge grew, so did my confidence. I began thinking of myself as a runner, even while barely running five minutes at a time. Sharing my limited experience kept the dangerously dull mood at bay. Growing up mostly alone with alcoholic parents, I'd developed sadness and negative thinking patterns early. I began drinking as a teen, measuring distances by beers consumed. Despite periodic attempts to quit after blackouts and accidents, I continued until my thirties when I finally sought help from a community of ex-problem drinkers who taught me to stay sober. My joy proved short-lived when my ankle swelled as I completed week four. For two weeks, Morgan and I took long walks, but missing the running fitness and fun broke my heart. The Penguin Forums just made me sad, and I considered a medication change. My psychiatrist and I remained vigilant about not letting darkness linger. In 1994, depression had stolen running from me completely. I'd put my shoes in the back of the closet and later contemplated suicide with my dogs. After hospitalization and leaving the legal profession permanently, I struggled with writing projects despite community support. After my ankle healed, I panicked seeing week five's requirements-especially the final day's twenty minutes of continuous jogging. When a fellow Penguin suggested just trying day one, I remembered how much better running made me feel. I broke week five into manageable pieces (5A, 5B, 5C), repeating each until mastered. With Morgan beside me, I tackled the first workout, huffing up the ravine hill as spring greenery emerged. During the final five-minute jog, I slowed but didn't quit, telling myself "Walking is not a failure." When I finished, I celebrated with a "Whoop! Whoop!" that startled the dog. I finally told my sister Amy about my running, though I qualified it by mentioning I couldn't yet run a full thirty minutes. When Amy sent me a link to the Steps for Sarcoma 5k fundraiser for research on the cancer that killed my niece, I initially declined, insisting running was "a private thing." But thoughts of my niece Jamey, who had been a runner before cancer took her leg and then her life, haunted me during my runs.

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5장

The Perfect Storm That Got Me Moving

The seeds of my running journey landed on ground made fertile by a perfect storm of life events over the previous five years. Weight issues, approaching fifty, and recurring dreams were just surface factors that finally got me off the sofa. My relationship with weight had been tumultuous. In my thirties, I'd been anorexic, living on one bagel and one apple daily. After my nervous breakdown, antidepressants transformed my obsession into overeating, pushing my weight to two hundred pounds. I'd tried going off medications to lose weight, but depression and anxiety always returned so viciously that I'd beg for prescriptions again, sacrificing nine months of well-being for twenty pounds. I knew from previous exercise experiences that "depression hates a moving target." Nia dance classes in 2004-2005 had left me feeling hypomanic-an improvement over depression. When our golden retriever Bodhi died, I couldn't dance anymore, taking long walks instead. Morgan, our new dog, became my walking companion and canine therapist. A month after adopting Morgan, my niece Jamey was admitted to Children's Hospital with osteosarcoma. The tumor in her thigh had broken her femur and spread to her lungs. I wrote "Here. Now." on her cast and told her, "When you get scared, remember there's only this moment and I'm with you." Though I felt pathetic applying mindfulness techniques to her situation, she smiled. While Jamey was sick in 2006, I enrolled in Goddard College's MFA program, which accommodated my mental health issues. Between residencies and hospital visits, I lived at my desk reading and writing, gaining weight and losing touch with exercise's benefits. In February 2007, Jamey died at twenty-four, plummeting me into despair and panic attacks. For the rest of 2007, grief blasted Ed and me as one friend died in July, his ninety-six-year-old father in August, my mother's boyfriend in September, Jamey's cat and father in October, and Mom's best friend in November. With each death, I thought, "This is it for a while," but 2007 wasn't finished with us yet. After my father died of lung cancer in 1996, I spent countless hours with my hypochondriac mother in medical waiting rooms. When she was hospitalized with a bowel obstruction in December 2007, I flew home immediately. After twenty-four days and two surgeries, she died peacefully in hospice on December 30, 2007. Feeling irrationally responsible, I spiraled into depression, eating, sleeping, and crying for nearly a year until Morgan and I began taking slow walks in November 2008.

6장

When Bodies Rebel and Minds Follow

Shortly after meeting Ed, I learned meditation from him, building up to long periods of sitting over two decades. After beginning running, I discovered ChiRunning, which used Tai Chi principles to reduce injury and improve performance. I took a four-hour class with instructor Doug Dapo, learning about midfoot landing, the hazards of over-striding, and using a metronome to increase foot turnover. I implemented a "form focus" for each run, similar to an "object of meditation." As I completed weeks five and six of interval training, my left ankle became stiff and swollen around the bone-the same ankle that had swelled in 2008 when I tried running in sandals. Despite having good shoes and weighing ten pounds less, the problem persisted. I rested, massaged, iced, and elevated it, but after each workout, it swelled again. During a trip to San Antonio, I overdid it on a treadmill, making the swelling worse. After resting a week, I restarted at week two of training, but my enthusiasm led me to run thirty minutes straight the next day, causing my ankle to balloon again. When my ankle continued swelling, I visited the doctor hoping my enthusiasm for running would impress her. Instead, she frowned at my tennis ball-sized ankle and ordered blood tests for autoimmune issues like rheumatoid arthritis, setting off alarm bells in my head. I thought about a college friend with RA-her swollen joints, pain, and low energy. The doctor suggested it might explain my tiredness and depression too. Despite this, I continued my interval training, cycling through running, swelling, sulking, icing, and walking again. Though I doubted running would permanently heal my depression, I craved the runner's high-that tingling afterglow when the dark heaviness lifted. Studies confirmed this was from endocannabinoids, the same neurotransmitters stimulated by marijuana. Each time I achieved a goal, I proved my tricky mind wrong. After much hesitation, I finally registered for the 5K race my sister kept asking about. The website was difficult to navigate, but after exchanging emails with the race director, I received confirmation and hugged Morgan in celebration. In August, I graduated from my kitchen timer to a Timex sports watch-another step in claiming my identity as a runner. A book club friend recommended "Born to Run," which became my obsession-I'd sit in my car in the garage just to finish sections. The book taught me about running form, the problems with heel-striking, and Caballo Blanco's mantra: "Think Easy, Light, Smooth, and Fast." It fueled my determination not to let my ankle stop me from running longer distances.

들리는 모든 단어를 눈으로 확인하세요

달리기라는 묘약의 각 단어가 오디오에 맞춰 실시간으로 강조되어 편하게 따라 읽을 수 있습니다.

7장

Stepping Out of My Comfort Zone

The night before my first race-the inaugural Steps for Sarcoma 5K-I carb-loaded at an Amish restaurant despite articles condemning this tradition for short races. On race morning, I dressed in my new running bra and Kelly-green tank top reading, "If found on ground, please drag across finish line," hoping I wasn't borrowing trouble. At the park, my anxiety turned to excitement seeing the race flags and inflatable arch. My family and friends joined me, including my sister whose daughter Jamey we were honoring. The race began and I forgot to run until Ed reminded me. Throughout the course, I battled negative thoughts but persevered, passing children, thanking volunteers, and finishing in 42:16. Though exhilarated, I experienced post-race depression, partly from grief over Jamey. The Penguins' solution? Sign up for another race! I chose the five-mile Columbus Turkey Trot despite doubts about doubling my distance in nine weeks. Terrified by the claustrophobic MRI machine, I barely managed the procedure despite assurances only my ankle would go in. The technician's brusque manner didn't help as she secured my ankle and rolled me into the tunnel, causing me to panic when my legs and knees entered too. With racing heart and sweaty palms, I endured the loud magnets and unwanted music until finally being released, feeling both grateful and foolish for my fear. Days later, my doctor's letter revealed "talocalcaneal coalition with osteoarthritis" and recommended seeing a foot and ankle surgeon. The surgeon, a large intimidating man who hated running, bluntly stated "humans aren't built to run long distances" and recommended fusion surgery, warning that continued running would ruin my ankles and knees. His dismissive attitude and refusal to return my records infuriated me. Devastated by his "fuse, fuse, fuse" verdict, I stopped running, which plunged me into depression. Walking didn't provide the same mood boost, and dark thoughts began clouding my mind as I researched my condition and found no encouraging solutions.

8장

Finding My Way Back to Movement

After my ankle surgeon advised against running, I fell into deep depression. The loss of running-my daily endocannabinoid boost-plunged me into bleakness. I slept more, took slow walks with Morgan, and contemplated checking into a psych ward. My weight loss plateaued, and I faced the harsh reality that running doesn't burn enough calories to justify extra food. My psychiatrist offered a lifeline, suggesting moderate running might be better than none at all. She compared running to antidepressants-both have risks, but the benefits outweigh them. "Find the best doctors, get a gait analysis, seek physical therapy. Don't give up." With renewed determination, Morgan and I returned to running. I vowed to only seek medical advice from professionals who honored running and to trust myself. Despite occasional swelling, I created a formula-no consecutive running days, proper form, and slowing my pace to protect my ankle. Some days I felt invincible; others, I wondered why I'd started running at all. Five days after defying the surgeon, Morgan and I completed our longest run of four miles through autumn's kaleidoscope of colors. I admired my dog's fluid stride and effortless serenity as he trotted beside me. I protected my ankle with compression hose and elevation after runs, documenting my progress in my online running log and sharing with the Penguins forum. Despite conflicting medical advice, I developed my own moderate approach-slowing my pace, focusing on form, and accepting that I'd never be fast. As the Turkey Trot approached, I pushed myself to run the full five miles without Morgan. The difference between 4.7 and 5 miles felt like the Grand Canyon-I feared having a heart attack or collapsing far from home with no phone to call for help. Despite my experience with meditation retreats, I feared boredom during longer runs. But I discovered that while the second mile was most difficult, by mile three an inner glow started, and by mile four my feet felt lighter. Finishing the five miles left me ecstatic, and I immediately signed up for the Columbus Turkey Trot.

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9장

The Discipline That Saved My Life

Despite being home in Ohio, dark winter days brought slippery black moods. Running provided temporary relief, but part of me still wished to disappear. The Hundred Days Challenge-moving thirty minutes daily for the first hundred days of 2011-offered the structure I desperately needed. Growing up on a farm, I'd never exercised consistently. My first love was music, not sports. In gym class, uncoordinated band geeks like me were sent to the outfield during softball. Dodgeball terrified me as boys and girls hurled the ball at me for an easy out, leaving me stinging with red marks and shame. I'd feign illness to avoid the humiliation of forced exercise. The Hundred Days Challenge let me choose my own movement, providing structure without the trauma. Depression, PTSD, and bipolar disorder suppressed my internal motivation. Overthinking turned decision-making into paralysis-even choosing socks or exercise clothes could overwhelm me. The printed running schedule and Challenge structure helped by removing decisions about distance, days, and routes. In January, I joined McConnell Heart Health Center, appreciating its quiet atmosphere, older clientele, and lack of "gym bunnies." I ran on the indoor track to avoid winter ice, though Morgan pouted when left behind. For accountability, I posted my daily activities online-everything from basketball (which I hadn't played since middle school) to water exercises in the warm pool with white-haired ladies twenty years my senior. I water-walked in the Olympic pool, danced to '80s music while my confused dog watched, and even walked up and down basement stairs when weather was bad. The Hundred Days Challenge chart with daily stickers helped the winter months pass more easily and boosted my self-esteem. Running outdoors made me feel like a badass, even with icicles on my eyelashes. Learning about proper winter gear was essential-after one miserable run in freezing cotton layers, the Penguins taught me to wear technical fabrics instead.

10장

Becoming an Endurance Athlete

Despite medical concerns about my ankle, I refused to have it fused and instead sought physical therapy from a runner. Andrew prescribed balance exercises and analyzed my stride, noting I was collapsing on my left side due to limited ankle mobility. Though my primary care physician and surgeon believed running would harm my ankle, my therapist, psychiatrist, and running friends all encouraged me to continue. When Andrew called me an "endurance athlete" during therapy, I floated out of the clinic with newfound confidence. While Ed attended a humanist conference in Des Moines, I mapped a six-mile training run for the upcoming Capital City Quarter Marathon. Without Morgan, I faced my bridge phobia alone when my route required crossing the Des Moines River. Remembering past panic attacks and knowing that avoiding fears only makes them worse, I forced myself across the first pedestrian bridge by focusing on a building on the opposite shore. Though I couldn't summon the courage to cross a second, longer railroad bridge, I proudly recrossed the first one on my return. After completing six miles, I tried my first ice bath-gradually acclimating to the cold water rather than shocking my system-another runner's rite of passage. By April, a year after resuming running, I celebrated the end of the Hundred Days Challenge with the Tin Man 5k, setting a personal record while Ed cheered me on. I was becoming an athlete. But the following week, I was devastated by a friend's death from heroin overdose and another friend's boss's suicide. These losses rattled me deeply. I told Ed I needed to "tie myself to the planet" to avoid spinning off. Unlike my steady husband, my moods rolled like a small boat at sea. Though I reassured him I didn't want to die, I understood how the unthinkable becomes possible when depression takes hold. Despite my terror of crossing the Hoover Reservoir dam, I signed up for the Hoover Hustle 10k. After nightmares of falling from the dam into icy water, I almost backed out. But remembering my friend's death made my fear seem trivial. With Ed's encouragement, I drove to the race, breathing into a paper bag to manage my panic. The actual dam proved far less terrifying than my imagination had built it to be-wide concrete rather than the razor's edge of my nightmares. I celebrated crossing it by trying my first energy gel, finishing the race radiant despite my grief. My friend was dead, but I would persevere.

들리는 모든 단어를 눈으로 확인하세요

달리기라는 묘약의 각 단어가 오디오에 맞춰 실시간으로 강조되어 편하게 따라 읽을 수 있습니다.

11장

From Quarter to Half: The Journey Continues

The night before the Capital City quarter marathon, Ed and I explored the race expo, browsing running gear and watching as Ed collected freebies. Though I was "only" running the quarter marathon (6.55 miles) while most participants tackled the half marathon, I reminded myself I belonged among these athletes. Race morning brought panic about parking and starting on time. Despite Leslee's reassurances about the corrals and staggered start, my anxiety peaked as we joined thousands of colorful-clad runners. When we finally crossed the start line, people sped past us on all sides. Initially feeling old and outpaced, I eventually found my rhythm by remembering my ChiRunning techniques-relaxing, tilting my pelvis, and maintaining quick, light footfalls. As my confidence grew, I realized Leslee was struggling to keep pace. After getting her blessing to continue alone, I increased my speed, buoyed by cheering spectators with humorous signs, live bands, high-fiving toddlers, and even a scruffy man on a bicycle blasting "Chariots of Fire." When the quarter marathon route split from the half, part of me felt relief while another part yearned to do the "whole" race someday. Near the finish, I was confused by speedier runners passing me before realizing they were the faster half-marathoners rejoining our route. Despite misjudging my final sprint distance, I crossed the finish line happy. A volunteer gave me water and a veteran hung a medal around my neck. Though our husbands missed our finish, having found a warm cafe to discuss politics, I proudly hung my first real medal in my office where I could see it every day. A year after resuming running, I attended a talk by Runner's World Chief Running Officer Bart Yasso. Afterward, I joined the Marathoner in Training (MIT) group's slowest pace for a run, finishing just ahead of the walkers. When I discovered how many people I knew had trained with MIT, I attended an information session with Jeff Henderson, MIT's head coach. Despite my introvert nature and anxiety about groups, I decided the structure would benefit me, especially since running primarily meant dealing with my own personality rather than group dynamics.

12장

The Final Frontier: Marathon Training

Turning fifty didn't frighten me as I'd transformed since forty-five-losing weight, becoming active, and finding peace with past losses. I credited running with this improvement, allowing me to reduce my medications from six to three low doses. Though I fantasized about quitting meds entirely, previous attempts had ended in disaster, with anxiety and depression returning like two sides of a coin. Despite my wonky ankle pain, running had brought contentment. I wasn't cured of depression or food obsession, but I found more peace. I bathed regularly, wrote on non-running days, and experienced improved self-esteem. Life had genuinely improved. My shoe obsession intensified as I sought footwear to prevent injury. I experimented with minimalist Merrell Pace Gloves, traditional Brooks Adrenalines, and the compromise Brooks Ravennas. When a Newton Shoes representative visited Fleet Feet, I purchased a pair with low heels but good cushioning-appropriate for an "Athena" (larger woman runner). I rotated between shoes, feeling like a "real runner" while trying to address my ankle clicking and swelling. As fall approached, our training miles increased. My first ten-mile run brought panic when I fell behind the group, but focusing on proper form-Egoscue technique and ChiRunning principles-helped me finish strong. My quest for ankle solutions continued with chiropractor visits and an osteopath, though the latter's aggressive manipulation left me in too much pain to continue treatment. Running was transforming me-I now chose running over napping when feeling unwell, and even placed fourth in my age group at the Second Annual Steps for Sarcoma 5k. However, as training intensified, new pains emerged in my knee and shin. During an eleven-mile run with Kelley, I struggled but finished, my mind oscillating between pride ("Badass!") and self-doubt ("Loser!"). What my running friends didn't know was how much I struggled with everyday life. Ed handled most household chores as I found even simple tasks overwhelming. Unlike my running friends with children, I could rest after runs rather than care for a family. I was grateful for excellent mental health care that allowed me to "show up" for running when I might otherwise be hospitalized. Running rapidly became part of my mental health toolkit, helping anxiety, depression and mania drop away. It gave me focus, calm, accomplishment and joy. Sometimes the only peace I found was in feeling my feet pound the pavement alongside Morgan and my running buddies. This courage transferred to my writing desk too.

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13장

The Triumph of Persistence

The Columbus Marathon was a festive experience despite my frequent porta potty stops. Kelley, Barb, and I crossed the starting line together after a herky-jerky approach to the arch. The race felt like an enormous party on foot, with bands or DJs every half-mile, their music sometimes overlapping with bagpipes, drum cadences, and pop songs. Seeing familiar faces during the race provided emotional boosts. Ed and our friend Linda cheered me on Broad Street, and I sprinted back to catch up with Kelley and Barb after a quick hug. News anchor Andrea Cambern waved from her Schiller Park home in German Village around mile ten. My friend Christy distracted us with a cowbell during the final miles as we faced the two-mile uphill slog to the finish on High Street. When we spotted the finish line, we sprinted. Photos show us looking as happy as I remember. At the MIT tent, Jeff congratulated us while dressed in a full Sasquatch costume. Though exhausted, I still had something in the tank and my dream of completing a full marathon remained. That night, MIT members gathered at a local grill to relive the race, with Ed proudly joining us. On Monday after the marathon, while caring for a sick Ed, I got a massage and recounted every race detail. At FrontRunner, I claimed my coveted 26.2 sticker, placing it opposite my 13.1 sticker on my car window-fulfilling a dream I'd shared with a young friend years ago. Tuesday brought post-race blues. Despite running being essential to my mental health kit, depression struck hard. I'd registered for the Columbus Turkey Trot, but still felt bereft. The race memories were fading, and instead of elation, I felt sad, tired and sore. I missed my deceased family members and couldn't embrace the accomplishment. I decided to take action. Wearing my medal and shirt, I visited places where people would celebrate with me-the coffee shop, grocery store, and my recovery group. I let their congratulations sink in, finally embracing that I was a marathoner! The marathon wasn't life-changing in itself-what changed me was the daily training, showing up consistently despite my mind telling me it was impossible. Looking at race photos, I cheered seeing I wasn't heel-striking-proof my form had improved. Post-marathon, I reflected on my journey from a woman who could barely leave her house to one who participated in enormous events with strangers. Running had become meditation, taught me to be social without feeling overwhelmed, and built my self-esteem. During my first post-race run with Morgan, I realized my true training had begun years earlier with that first sixty-second jog in cotton clothes. I'd drawn on decades of mental training through writing practice, meditation, and recovery meetings. While grateful for the running community and Ed's support, the naked truth was that most training had been just like this-ordinary neighborhood runs with just me, the dog, the watch, and the road-one foot in front of the other. Months after the marathon, the memory began to seem like a dream. Part of me wanted to train for a second full, while another part feared the first had been a fluke. On a humid August morning, Morgan and I trotted through the neighborhood contemplating another marathon. That night at dinner, Ed laughed at first but then encouraged me, saying "I know you can do it again." When Julie texted that the 2013 Columbus Marathon was selling out fast, I looked at Morgan, whose ears perked up with gleaming eyes. I went online and signed up.

★★★★★

달리기라는 묘약 완독을 축하합니다

100만 명 이상의 학습자가 사랑합니다

“23일째 매일 사용하고 있어요. 이제 제 일상의 한 부분이 되었습니다.”

jayallen

달리기라는 묘약의 핵심 주제

therapeutic running
exercise for depression
mental health memoir
midlife fitness transformation
coping with addiction

달리기라는 묘약의 명언

This might kill you.
Walking is not a failure.
I'm a private runner.
Don't be a runner. Be an interval trainer.

달리기라는 묘약의 등장인물

Nita SweeneyThe author and protagonist battling depression
EdNita's steadfastly supportive husband
MorganNita's rescued yellow Lab and running companion
KristaA friend who encourages Nita to enter races

저자 소개

니타 스위니(Nita Sweeney)는 정신 건강 옹호, 달리기, 마음챙김을 결합한 회고록인 *우울증은 움직이는 타겟을 싫어한다: 반려견과 함께 달리는 것이 어떻게 나를 절벽 끝에서 구했나(Depression Hates a Moving Target: How Running with My Dog Brought Me Back from the Brink)*의 저자이자 수상 경력이 있는 작가입니다.

전직 변호사에서 작가이자 코치로 변신한 스위니는 조울증과 불안증을 겪었던 자신의 생생한 경험을 바탕으로, 래브라도 리트리버와 함께한 마라톤 훈련이 어떻게 구멍줄이 되었는지를 기록합니다. 그녀는 잡지 저널리즘 학위를 소지하고 있으며, 글쓰기를 지속할 수 있도록 돕는 가이드북인 *당신은 글을 써야 합니다: 펜을 계속 움직이게 하는 영감과 지침의 저널(You Should Be Writing: A Journal of Inspiration and Instruction to Keep Your Pen Moving)*을 공동 집필했습니다.

그녀의 작품은 라이터스 저널(Writer’s Journal), 도그 월드(Dog World), 컨트리 리빙(Country Living) 등에 게재되었으며, 그녀는 범 글루(Bum Glue) 블로그와 라이트 나우 콜럼버스(Write Now Columbus) 뉴스레터를 운영하고 있습니다. 회복 탄력성과 창의성에 대한 스위니의 통찰력은 전국적인 미디어 매체, 팟캐스트 및 워크숍에서 소개되었습니다.

우울증은 움직이는 타겟을 싫어한다는 윌리엄 포크너 – 윌리엄 위즈덤 창의적 글쓰기 경연대회(William Faulkner – William Wisdom Creative Writing Competition Award) 최종 후보에 올랐으며, 종이책, 전자책, 오디오북 형식으로 만나볼 수 있습니다.

달리기라는 묘약 요약 다운로드

달리기라는 묘약 요약을 무료 PDF 또는 EPUB으로 받으세요. 인쇄하거나 오프라인에서 언제든 읽을 수 있습니다.

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지금 바로 학습 여정을 시작하세요

13장

달리기라는 묘약

개요달리기라는 묘약 개요

한 권의 책, 다양한 듣기 방식.

When Running Becomes a Lifeline: One Woman's Journey Through Depression

Off the Sofa and into the Ravine

들리는 모든 단어를 눈으로 확인하세요

The Reluctant Runner Emerges

Finding My Tribe in Unexpected Places

달리기라는 묘약에서 더 많은 것을 얻으세요

The Perfect Storm That Got Me Moving

When Bodies Rebel and Minds Follow

들리는 모든 단어를 눈으로 확인하세요

Stepping Out of My Comfort Zone

Finding My Way Back to Movement

달리기라는 묘약에서 더 많은 것을 얻으세요

The Discipline That Saved My Life

Becoming an Endurance Athlete

들리는 모든 단어를 눈으로 확인하세요

From Quarter to Half: The Journey Continues

The Final Frontier: Marathon Training

달리기라는 묘약에서 더 많은 것을 얻으세요

The Triumph of Persistence

달리기라는 묘약 완독을 축하합니다

달리기라는 묘약의 핵심 주제

달리기라는 묘약의 명언

달리기라는 묘약의 등장인물

저자 소개

달리기라는 묘약 요약 다운로드

다른 사용자들도 좋아한 책

이 책에 대한 FAQ

What is Depression Hates a Moving Target about?

Who should read Depression Hates a Moving Target?

Is Depression Hates a Moving Target worth reading?

How does running help combat depression, according to the book?

더 알아보기

1,000,000+ curious minds.

1,000,000+ curious minds.

한 권의 책, 다양한 듣기 방식.

When Running Becomes a Lifeline: One Woman's Journey Through Depression

Off the Sofa and into the Ravine

들리는 모든 단어를 눈으로 확인하세요

The Reluctant Runner Emerges

Finding My Tribe in Unexpected Places

달리기라는 묘약에서 더 많은 것을 얻으세요

The Perfect Storm That Got Me Moving

When Bodies Rebel and Minds Follow

들리는 모든 단어를 눈으로 확인하세요

Stepping Out of My Comfort Zone

Finding My Way Back to Movement

달리기라는 묘약에서 더 많은 것을 얻으세요

The Discipline That Saved My Life

Becoming an Endurance Athlete

들리는 모든 단어를 눈으로 확인하세요

From Quarter to Half: The Journey Continues

The Final Frontier: Marathon Training

달리기라는 묘약에서 더 많은 것을 얻으세요

The Triumph of Persistence

달리기라는 묘약 완독을 축하합니다

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달리기라는 묘약 개요