Glasgow

Shortly after my last newsletter was published, I had my regular psych appointment and we had a potentially overdue discussion: it turns out there’s a line where self-deprecation turns into behaviour that reinforces internal negative ideas about myself and I may have finally crossed it.

Um, I’m sorry, am I not an artist? Is this not stifling my art?

We discussed how talking badly about myself permits other people to do the same. I was reminded of my first couple years of uni. I found that making jokes about being Asian was an easy way to get laughs. Then one of my white male friends joked about how he’d never let me borrow his car because I was “Asian AND a woman”. That was that. I stopped such jokes for good.

If you keep telling everyone you’re a depressed loser, even as a joke, they’re going to start to believe you. It’s going to be impossible for me to completely change how I speak, act, and feel (sharp rock to the head perhaps?), but I think I’ve identified a loophole so I can continue being a troll. Basically instead of being normal about all this, I will cultivate my god complex.

Fake it till you make it. If the path to depression is paved with ironic detachment, then the path to self-love is paved with delusions of grandeur. I do usually enjoy alternating between extreme ironic self-humiliation and self-promotion, and find both equally silly. My bio has always said “olympian/genius”. I simply need to tip the scales towards the narcissistic. Who knew the solution had been under my nose this whole time.

I’m a genius. I’m an imp. God has given me a gift and She wants me to run. Am I joking or being sincere? Like with all my favourite comedy and art, reality is somewhere in the middle.

I know what you’re thinking: what would my psychologist say about all this? Well, here’s an example of how this strategy has worked in the past. I used to think I was fugly as hell to the point I had an eating disorder for a decade. But around the time I shaved my head, I started doing bits about how unbelievably hot I was. “It’s embarrassing how obsessed everyone is with me!” I don’t know when it happened, and it definitely wasn’t the irony alone, but I started to genuinely believe what I was saying and now I think I’m gorgeous.

At this rate, with the number of groundbreaking psychological theories I’m churning out, I’ll be putting the DSM out of business!

On a serious note, it’s very nice to have people in my life who care about my wellbeing. I appreciate everyone who holds me accountable for my words, because they have an impact not just on me but on the people who follow my career. I’m going to do better.

I forgot to take photos of the Glasgow track last weekend because I was running a race and it was also my birthday. The race was fine (2:02.40) and I’m obviously not thrilled by where my performances are right now but I won’t say anything negative about it because my body is mysterious and I must respect her work.

Anyway, here’s a track from the archives!

In 2024, when I was at an altitude training camp in St Moritz (an alpine resort town in Switzerland), we would travel an hour or so down the windy mountain road to run at sea level on this track in Italy. I can’t drive manual so Luke, my very patient training partner, drove our rental car everywhere through the tight and snowy roads.

This part of the world is one of the most gorgeous places I’ve ever visited and I have great memories of this trip. Luke and I would try and visit every mountain chair lift in the afternoons after training. We’d be the only people who would get to the top and just sit there for twenty minutes before riding back down while everyone else went off on their hikes.

The track is surrounded by mountains, farmland, medium-density residential buildings, and a river. The surrealism is particularly strong here with the blue carpet-like track butting up against grazing sheep and hay bales.

I don’t have a whole lot more to say about this track. I’ll let these photos speak for themselves.

Trina xx