Barefoot in the Sunshine

Tokyo had a lot of nice weather recently. The sun was warm but not hot, the humidity of the rainy season hasn’t come yet. The warm weather recently indicates we are probably in for another very hot summer, one that will probably come with blackouts or power restrictions given the loss of power from the tsunami damage to the nuclear plants. But for now, it is just a nice day to be out.

I have been feeling a bit up and down recently, so I thought it might be good to get out and get a little more exercise. I went running a few times in the last week, but I am planning to enter a few races this year, including the Osaka marathon in October, so I need to get out and do more distance for that. More importantly, I know that when I run more I feel better. So I threw on my shoes and my iPod and was out the door.

Last week I bought my first CD in some time, The Sound of Sunshine, by Michael Franti and Spearhead. It is a lot lighter and more joyful than a lot of their previous stuff, and as I jogged around I listened to a mix of it and a few other Franti albums. I couldn’t have asked for better audio accompaniment for my run.

I ran at a fairly slow speed, not pushing myself, just wanting to do the 10k with some enjoyment and a lack of pain. I did so, and about two thirds of the way through the run I reached, not exactly runners high, but a stage where I feel better. Where the sun, the run, and the music had flushed out my mind and body of at least some of its depression and anxiety.

At the end I checked my watch, it had taken a little over an hour. I stretched a little, and enjoyed the moment. Then I took off my shoes and socks and walked back home. I’ve been doing a little barefoot walking recently, and it is pretty enjoyable. It reminds me of being a kid, my feet touching the ground without being imprisoned in stiff shoes, being able to feel the texture, the temperature of the ground. It is a simple pleasure, but it is really something.

You would expect that the ground is rough and dangerous, but actually it is not bad. In Tokyo, despite a near-total lack of rubbish bins there is little litter, and while the pavement and roads are not exactly made of rubber, they are perfectly fine to walk on. I haven’t been to the beach for a long time, but I think I’d like to try and get there at some stage in the near future. I’d like to feel the sand between my toes, feel the sunshine, see the waves coming in. That’s definitely on my to-do list now.

Running under the cherry blossoms

“I have the same commitment everyday when I wake up – today I’m going to try my best, today I’m going to give it my all.”
--Dean Karnazes, ultra marathon runner

It is Friday again, and I just came back from a run around a park near my house. My legs got sore so I didn’t run as long as I would have liked. Still, it was good to see the cherry blossoms (picture above), which are in full bloom. Many people are walking around admiring them, some groups are picnicking and drinking under the trees, as Japanese have done for generations. There seems to be less people doing so than usual, in deference to the recent disaster, but people are still out and about.

I don’t feel great, but I am trying to do some simple things to keep my head above water. This week I went running three times, and I did a major spring clean. I threw out a bunch of junk that had been cluttering up my place for some time, and reorganized things. I have more space now, and I think having an organized place helps my state of mind.

In the midst of the spring clean I also pulled out my guitar. I bought an acoustic guitar years ago, before I came to Japan, and have attempted to learn how to play it on several occasions. I seem to find simple things very difficult to learn and remember, and this includes how to play music. On Wednesday I pulled out the guitar for the first time in a year and practiced some very simple exercises from the Mel Bay Grade 1 book. I told someone that I seem to pull out the guitar every year and realize that I don’t have guitar skills. He made the simple point that if I practiced every day, maybe I would realize that I did have guitar skills. I am only three days in at this point, but time will tell. Usually I get ashamed of my own inability to improve and give up.

While I was out running I was listening to the Radio National Breakfast podcast, and today’s included an interview with Dean Karnazes, an American runner who is running across the US. At the time of the interview he was in Missouri, heading for New York. He talked about how he took up running seriously because he was bored and in his regular life everything came easily to him, but he found an almost spiritual experience in his extreme runs.

As I, an Australian running under Tokyo’s cherry blossoms listened to him, an American charging across a entire continent, I thought about how different the two of us were. Unlike what Karnazes said about his own life, nothing seems to come easy to me. Every day is a struggle.

I’m not running because life is too simple and easy, but because for me it is too much to deal with. And some exercise, like therapy, medication, and other things, can help to take the edge off a little bit. I am very much a creature of habit, and I hope that by establishing better habits I can manage my condition a little better. I know this depression, this anxiety will never go away. It is part of me. But I need to learn to tame it, control it better. I hope I am on the way to doing that, I really do.

I am not capable of running across a continent. But I, like Karnazes, am capable of giving every day my all. And that's what I'm going to do.

Narwhals!

This has been a pretty long week that has left me kind of drained, and I don't have a particular theme for tonight's blog, so like the goldfish that I am, I think I will write about the last thing that I saw. Narwhals!

CID imbedded the short music video of the Narwhal song in a recent post of his as an intermission between the doom and gloom. I think this was a great idea, and the song is also incredibly catchy. At times when I've been trying to think about and discuss serious things I can't help but think "Narwhals, Narwhals, swimming in the oceans, causing a commotion cause they are awesome.." If you haven't been blessed with the Narwhals, you can check them out here.

On the topic of music, I was happy that in a post about me In the Pink picked Cake's The Distance as my song. I remember that song from when I was at university, and I've been known to sing it at karaoke sometimes.

Speaking of going the distance, I have mostly recovered from the marathon last week. Monday was a write-off, I basically lay around and was in pain whenever I moved. Tuesday I felt better, although going up and down stairs was a bit rough. Wednesday I was better again, and I also went for a massage, which helped sort my legs out too. By Friday I was in my current condition, which is probably 80% or 90% recovered.

I haven't been out to run, but I hope to do so in the next day or so. It will probably be okay, I don't seem to have any major lasting pain. It is much better than 2007. And it is even better than after the half-marathon I did in November last year. That has to be a good sign. My body still has a lot of issues, but it does seem to be improving. I'll definitely sign up for next year's marathon, and I am even thinking about doing another one this year.

I hope this finds everyone well. It is now well after midnight, and I think sleep is calling. I hope you all have great weeks.

There Is No Finish Line

I had an attempt at a post on god, life, and the meaning of the universe, but it didn't come together very well. I think I need to bounce some ideas around in my head a little bit longer before they come together properly. So instead, I thought I might steal a title from Nike's admen and talk about running instead.

It is after midnight here in Tokyo. I just went out for a night run. It was cold and there was some light rain, but there wasn't any wind, so it wasn't too bad. I had to push myself a bit to do it, but I got my running gear on, my sneakers, running tights, t-shirt, hoodie, beanie and gloves. I put on my headphones, hit play on the iPod, and ran off into the night to the sound of AC/DC's Highway to Hell - that got me moving!

I probably ran for about 12 kilometers or so. I stopped and walked at some points, sometimes for a minute or two, sometimes for a song or two. Then I picked up the pace and started running again. Not pushing myself too much, but not slacking off too much either. A nice middle ground.

The 2011 Tokyo marathon is coming up in about a month, and I am not ready for it. I wasn't ready for it when I did it in 2007 either, but I managed to get through it, despite it being an agonizing experience. And despite not really being ready this year either, I am a little older and wiser than back in 2007.

My physical fitness is a bit better than it was in 2007, and my depression is not as bad either. Also, I have finally realized that I don't need to run like a kamikaze intent on obliterating myself, the way I used to in the past. It is okay to go slow. It is okay to walk for a time. The important thing is just to keep moving - and to do so sustainably.

I think when I do the marathon a month from now I will most likely do some version of running for ten minutes, walking for two. I have tried it out at shorter distances, and it really does seem to make the run easier. Back in November I did a half marathon where I stubbornly ran the whole distance, despite the fact that alternating walking and running would have probably made me a bit faster. This was pointed out to me while I was doing it. But I wasn't capable of not forcing myself to "run" at that race.

I had quite a lot of pain after that run, and that combined with a few conversations with other runners led me to finally become a bit more reasonable, a bit more flexible in my approach. I think I needed both the pain, plus the advice from others who had been down the same road before me, to help me realize that the way I was doing things were damaging me.

It took a long time, but I finally made the realization. Many things seem to be like this. But life is long. I have time to figure these things out. And I'm beginning to think that I will, one of these days.

If I Ever Leave This World Alive

Recently I heard the song "If I ever leave this world alive" by the punk-folk group Flogging Molly. I hadn't listened to it for a while, and it took me back to 2005, when I first heard it. I remember originally hearing it on an episode of The Shield, and being entranced by it. I remember going on a two day road trip with a couple of friends before leaving Australia, pestering one of them to download it for me so I could play it later on the iPod as we drove along the coast. And I remember annoyingly singing bits and pieces of the song throughout the long car trip. But mostly, I remember the friends.

Originally four of us were to go on the road trip; myself, an engineer and a musician (two old friends from high school), and a friend from Korea. Unfortunately the Korean friend wound up having to work on that weekend, so he only spent Friday night with us before we headed off on Saturday morning. But it was a good Friday night. The musician turned up on Saturday morning (having brought only the clothes on his back plus a pair of sunglasses), my Korean friend headed back to work, and the three of us headed out along the coast.

The engineer, had just come back from 18 months or so living in the UK, and was just settling back into Australian life. I was about to up stakes and fly off to Japan to an unknown future. The musician was already starting to get itchy feet and thinking about heading over to South America, which he later did. Australia is very far from the rest of the world and culturally confused, with a physical geography that places us near Asia, but a mental geography that places us somewhere between the US and the UK. This combination of distance and confusion, plus all the usual reasons people travel, has sent generations of young Australians have heading off overseas for a week, a year, or a lifetime.

Not too long after that trip I headed off to Japan. My Korean friend was called back home by his company, and while he often came to Japan on business, schedules rarely aligned. We caught up a couple of times, and climbed Mt Fuji together back in 2008. I had promised to visit him in Korea at some stage, but still haven't done so.

A few weeks ago he told me that he'd be in Tokyo this past Thursday, and we had a chance to catch up. It had been a while and we didn't have a lot of time, but it was great to see him again. We reminisced about the old days in Australia, brought each other up to date with recent events, and talked about what was going on in our lives, good and bad. It was nice. It made me think back over many things I'd forgotten, or not thought about for a long time.

At various times over my three trips around the merry-go-round of depression I've called on these friends, and each of them has helped me at different times, to the best of their abilities to do so. With them, and with others as well, I have sometimes been angry and frustrated that they did not or could not do more to help me. I thought angrily to myself on many occasions that people should see how much I need help, should be there for me more, should check in more often. Couldn't they see how much pain I was in?

For the most part, I have moved past those feelings now. I think that we are all as good as we are capable of being at any given point in time. I said the same thing in last week's blog post, but I think it is worth repeating. Dealing with someone who has depression or another mental illness is tough, and it requires an amount of energy and skill that most people simply don't have.
This is far from ideal. But this is the way the world is. And denying reality doesn't help anyone.

I am far from where I would like to be in terms of my situation in life. But I think I am learning and getting stronger. And harsh as it may seem, we ultimately be able to stand or fall from our own efforts. Others can help, and I owe a huge debt of gratitude to many people who have helped me get through particularly rough patches. But at the end of the day we must stand on our own two feet. And I think I'm getting closer to being able to do that.

Sushi Oasis

Life in Tokyo can be exhausting. The city is huge and sprawling, almost a world unto itself. It has been the center of power of Japan for 400 years, and in that time has grown to into one of the largest cities in the world. 13 million people live here, and sometimes it seems like we are all crammed into the same train.

Much of Tokyo is a wasteland of concrete, steel and glass, with very little in the way of nature. Garish neon lights blast into the sky, pachinko parlors with their incessant noise are everywhere, and black-suited salarymen are constantly rushing around. Death from overwork is common enough to have a word to describe it (karoshi, if you are curious), and the city can be incredibly isolating, for both Japanese and foreigners alike. In other words, sometimes, it all gets a bit too much.

There are many possible temporary escapes from the stresses of Tokyo life. Alcohol and karaoke are popular, usually in combination. All the retail therapy one can afford is easily available. If a more personal consolation is what is required, despite prostitution being technically illegal, Japan is filled with brothels of various types. There are also many “host” and “hostess” clubs where those interested can go to be plied with alcohol and entertained by the modern day descendants of the geisha.

As for me, I prefer to go to a sushi shop.

I eat sushi at least a few times a week. When I step into a sushi shop, it often feels like stepping back in time. The walls are usually wood-lined, and when customers enter they are greeted with a hearty “irrashaimase!” from the staff. The types of sushi on offer are typically written in Japanese on boards against the wall, sometimes in English as well as Japanese.

In a standing sushi bar, the sushi chef will lay a bamboo leaf on the counter. Green tea is free, as is the ginger used as a palate cleanser between different types of sushi. Customers order sushi two at a time, which the chef places on the leaf. Customers come in by themselves, or in groups. Sometimes there is banter between staff and customers, but usually it is quiet. There is music playing, which usually seems to be about 50 or 60 years old. It is relaxing.

I prefer the bar to be not too crowded, but not too empty. Sushi is good for you, and eating it has its own little ritual. Lifting it with chopsticks, a slight dip into the soy sauce, and then into the mouth. If it is good fish, it often melts in the mouth. With each piece of sushi I eat, each minute I spend in the sushi bar, I feel a little more relaxed. A few of the worries of the world fall away, or at least recede from view for now.

If I’m feeling good, I usually feel great after going there. If I’m feeling down or stressed out, I tend to feel a little better. The food is healthy, and the environment is enjoyable. I step out of the sushi oasis refreshed, and ready to do battle with Tokyo once again.

Bon Voyage

On Tuesday a friend and coworker will be leaving Japan and heading back home to Chicago. We’ve known each other for about three years, and had many discussions about matters large and small, eaten sushi many times, done crossword puzzles, been to karaoke more times than I can count, and climbed Mt Fuji.

There are many things that I will remember, not the least of which were his truly memorable karaoke performances. The highlights were definitely “Beat It”, “Baby Got Back”, and “Smells Like Teen Spirit”. The stage presence, air guitar, and passion he sings with are really something else.

But these are not the things that I will remember most about him. Back in 2008, I was doing okay. My depression was under control, I had a girlfriend, work was going well, and I was enjoying life somewhat. I had just turned 30 and was relatively content.

Another coworker, however, was not enjoying life at all. She had a variety of personal and relationship problems, and was most likely suffering from a mental illness. She was a bit difficult to deal with, and most people, myself included, tended to give her the cold shoulder.

At the time, I didn’t think much of it. To the extent that I did, I basically thought of her as a basket case and wrote her off, hoping to minimize my contact with her, which I did quite effectively.

My friend from Chicago, however, was different. He tried to help, tried to listen, even offered her a place to stay when it seemed like she might lose her accommodation unexpectedly. I thought all of this was a bad idea and advised him against it. In the end, our troubled coworker wound up leaving. I’m not sure what happened to her.

It was not until later, when my own troubles multiplied, that I appreciated what he had tried to do for her. Everyone wants to be a good person, but when it comes right down to it, we tend to look out for number one. I, and the vast majority of others ignored the woman who was in trouble, not wanting to get sucked into her problems. To use the biblical parable, we “walked by on the other side”.

There was only one good Samaritan around in 2008, and it definitely wasn’t me. I’ll never forget that. And I’ll never forget the man from Chicago who did his best to help a troubled soul. Bon voyage man. I wish you all the best for the future.

Singin’ seems to help a troubled soul

Johnny Cash sang that in “Daddy Sang Bass”, and truer words were never spoken. There is something profound in the act of singing, especially singing with others. In the past this was much more a part of popular culture – after all, there were no recordings, so if people wanted music, they had to sing. Whether the music was a folk song or a hymn, it brought people together in a way that few other things can.

In the West, the combined rise of technology and decline of organized religion have had many effects, but the effect on singing is one that must be lamented. Increasingly it seems that music is something that is manufactured, rather than played, songs are things that professionals record, rather than being sung by everyday people. Music is something that we now passively consume, rather than actively create or perform.

But technology has not been all bad. Courtesy of Japan, it has bought us karaoke.

Karaoke often gets a bad rap, but it is one of the joys of my life. I grew up long after the time when families routinely gathered to sing together, and I was never a big fan of singing hymns when I attended church as a child. But with karaoke, I found a way to help my troubled soul.

I have gradually worked out which songs I can handle and which I can’t. My voice is rather deep, and not too melodious, so a mixture of punk, rap, rock, and country is what I can handle best. As I sing a song more often, it gradually improves, and I enjoy it more and more. One of the songs I began singing recently is the old House of Pain hit Jump Around. I get a real kick out of singing it (and jumping around!) as do the friends I have been to karaoke with.

Apart from singing songs I like, one of the reasons I like karaoke so much is listening to the songs others have mastered and made their own. Many Japanese are good singers due to hours of practice, and more than a few foreigners can impress on the mic too. The guy from Chicago who sings an impassioned version of Beat It, complete with funky dance moves. The guy from Portland who sings everything from The Crash Test Dummies to Duran Duran, and I will never forget our combined version of Pretty Vacant. The English girl from Birmingham who performs Japanese ballads so beautifully it seems she was born to sing them. And the girl from San Diego who can sing in English, Spanish, and increasingly well in Japanese.

Singing doesn’t fix depression. But it certainly helps to alleviate it. Back in the 70s the famous music critic Lester Bangs wrote that rock music was “time off from the world.” I think that goes for music in general. The worries will still be there when the music is over. But for a few brief moments we are taken out of ourselves and elevated to something more. I am not religious, but there is something spiritual there. That is what music can do. And that is why I will always love karaoke.