Category Archives: New Year’s

Autoimmunity, New Year's, Reflection, Uncategorized

Taking a Break

I noticed the email around 8p. I opened it and clicked the link, knowing what I would find. I had blood work drawn the week before in anticipation of a doctor’s appointment on the 23rd. After feeling really good for several months, I felt not great. Again. A familiar fatigue returned, and with it the anxiety and rage and wonder if this cycle would ever end. After thinking we found THE solution this summer with the discovery of a severe wheat intolerance, this recent setback reveals that while gluten was in fact a significant part of the problem, it wasn’t the full story.

I open the email and quickly scan the results. As I expected, the inflammation was back, more than double what it was in September. I know what this means: no more running, more sleeping, more supplements, and more dietary changes. While I’m relieved for confirmation that the fatigue and malaise wasn’t in my head, I’m so frustrated to be back here again. I thought I was done with this.

This fall was busy, busier than I’d been in a while. My coach training, which started in October, is rigorous and much more work than I expected. Not only am I learning the skills to be an effective coach myself, but in practicing with my fellow students I’m experiencing the tools we’re learning from the perspective of a client. Which means that I’m doing a considerable amount of internal work while learning and developing a host of new skills. It is turning me inside out in a way that no other program has before and I love it. I love what we’re learning. I love how actionable and effective the whole of it is. I am still deeply uncomfortable with the “life coach” label, even as I am three months into an intense training program, with seven months still to go. A program that was developed by a Harvard-trained sociologist. A program that is deeply grounded in research. And even as I learn how transformative this work is as I serve as a practice client for my colleagues. I still shudder at this term, hesitating to attach myself to it.

About the time I started my coach training, I began running again. I started conservatively, hoping that the cooler weather would allow me to gain the traction that eluded me in the summer. I took a break from running in late June, when it became apparent that the summer heat, something I’ve always struggled with, was going to be more of an issue than normal. For the first time, running felt inflammatory in a way I couldn’t well articulate. This seemed to be confirmed when I switched my workouts to strength training and HIIT, supplemented with regular walks around the neighborhood, and immediately lost a few pounds. I only resumed running once the heat broke, easing back into training cautiously. In early November, I started training with my friend Mike, one of my Boston Marathon friends. It was my first time I having running coach since Mr. Bahr in high school. I loved having someone tell me what to do. He also kept me from increasing my mileage too fast, something I repeatedly do to myself when left to my own devices. I savored heading out the door every morning, even as the mornings became colder and darker.

And then, seemingly just like that, it all came crashing down. Here I sit in late December, not running at all, on holiday break from coach training, trying to recharge my batteries as much as I can before we pick back up next week. As I look back over the last few months, I wonder where I went wrong, how it fell apart again so quickly. I’ll never have the definitive answers I crave, but I think it boils down to a lack of resilience. My recovery is fragile, tentative, and uncertain. It is hard to accept this. Before these last few years, I could plow through life, burning the candle at both ends. I’ve been very stubborn in letting go of this approach, even as it is obvious it no longer serves me. Our culture worships the hustle, prioritizes productivity. Even as I was forced to let go of my attachment to those since getting sick several years ago, it’s fascinating how quickly it creeps back the minute I start feeling good again.

As I’ve read the work of women writing about sobriety the last few months, one recurring theme is how the absence of alcohol created space for other things such as more restful sleep and more meaningful connections. There’s conversation about how many people turn to alcohol to numb out or distract. As I’ve thought about this, it’s nudged me to consider the other ways in which I numb or distract myself. Social media is a big one, something I engage with far more frequently than alcohol. It’s been interesting to observe myself the last few weeks, noticing when and why I reach for my phone. Similar to experimenting with sobriety, it has me considering what my life would look like without this distraction.

I don’t want to leave social media, as I deeply value the connections I have with very real people there. I met a large group of friends on a Runner’s World forum over ten years ago, and we used to call each other imaginary friends. But there is nothing imaginary about most of the people who fill my social media feeds. They are full of real people that I treasure and to whom I want to remain connected. And yet. I want to develop a healthier relationship with this tool. As the often quoted line from The Social Dilemma goes “if you’re not paying for the product, you are the product”. Our attention is a commodity. These platforms are made to capture our attention and keep us scrolling for as long as possible. I know it has affected my attention span, reduced how long and how deeply I can focus. I wonder what the consequences are of being able to so readily distract myself. I want to know what I would think about, how I would use my time without this thing that has become central to our existence.

So similar to my experiment with sobriety, I am going to take a break from these platforms, well Facebook and Instagram anyway. I use Twitter primarily for news and cultivated a feed that I do not find stressful. Nor am I tempted to check it or scroll mindlessly as I am the other two. January will serve as a reset, a detox of sorts. I’ve taken several days at a time away from these sites over the years, but this will be the longest break I’ve taken since joining them all those years ago. I’m embarrassed to say that I’m nervous.

With the pandemic, all of our worlds have become quite small and mine is no exception. With a husband who is gone for a week at a time, every other week for his work, I spend a lot of time by myself. This was true before the pandemic. I don’t know how that time alone will feel when I can’t meet friends for dinner because of covid and don’t have the option of checking in online. I text with my family, email with friends, but not having Facebook and Instagram as one more avenue for connection and distraction will be an interesting experience. Through my coach training, I’m gaining the confidence to hold discomfort lightly and with curiosity. I am not afraid of what might come up. I plan to write a few posts throughout the experiment here on the blog, mostly for my own benefit, but feel free to follow along if you’re curious (since I won’t be posting to FB or IG, subscribing to the blog is the easiest way to do this).

I’m also taking a break from running, likely until I have blood work drawn again nine weeks from now. I am grateful for a wonderful setup in the basement, so getting in a good workout will not be difficult. Fortunately, January and February are two of the worst weather months in my corner of the midwest, so I am not that sorry to be inside for a few months. Hopefully this will let my doc further isolate what may or may not be the problem and finally put an end to these seemingly relentless setbacks. What I want most is to be healthy, to feel good, to live my life without this mess hanging over every decision. I believe there’s a sweet spot of diet, exercise, sleep, and life that will allow my health to rest quietly in the background. We just need to find it. We’re getting closer.

These last four years have been difficult for many of us. This last year especially so. My wish for all of you is ease and comfort as we go into 2021. May your new year be filled with joy and peace.

New Year's, Reflection, Transformation, Uncategorized

Reflections

I’ve never been one for New Year’s Resolutions. I’m of the mind that if there are changes to be made, one shouldn’t wait for a particular date on the calendar to make them. However, I do love the metaphorical clean-slate the new year provides. Even though Sunday is no different from Saturday, something about turning the page on another year can feel like opportunity.

While I’ll not spend the last few days of the year making lists of things to change about my life, the last few years, I’ve been more intentional about taking a look back. About taking stock of the year that’s closing, remembering the good, honoring the bad. It’s a habit that started with my running logs, I think. I love adding up mileage totals for the year, looking back over race results, considering the effectiveness of my training, comparing the totals and results. Since I’ve been unwell the past three years, that exercise hasn’t been as fruitful. I’ve been running and racing much less, and the results of the races I do run are expectedly mediocre. So, I’ve found my mind wandering and expanding the exercise to a more holistic inventory. I value acknowledging the light and the dark, as it is the contrast of experiences that sharpen the focus.

Compared to 2015, which I’ve come to refer to as a forest fire, 2016 was pretty solid. A bit of context…for me, a forest fire represents a year when everything goes wrong, to the point where every narrative you’d written for yourself gets burned to the ground. To complete and total ashes. We all experience forest fires at some time or another. Enough things come undone to the point where the path you’d envisioned for yourself is so clearly not where you’re meant to be, or not even possible anymore. Like an actual fire in the forest, this tearing down creates space for a rebirth and makes room for experiences that wouldn’t have happened without a major reorientation. Growth of a different kind. My fire was personal-illness of a family member and continued major challenges with my autoimmune condition- and professional. But, without 2015, there is no 2016. And if 2015 was a forest fire, 2016 was sunshine on blackened trees, delicate flowers poking up through scarred earth.

Highs

In January, I found a new physician. By the end of 2015, I was as sick as I’d ever been with my Hashi’s and starting to feel like there was no way out. But I took a chance on a physician based in Chicago, a functional medicine M.D. who, according to her profile, specialized in holistic approaches to managing autoimmune conditions. My expectations were low, but I was getting nowhere with western medicine and had nothing to lose. Twelve months later, I’m thisclose to remission. I have a doc who not only has deep knowledge of my condition and how to treat it, but who lives with it too. She’s a true partner in healing.

With my not-one-minute-too-soon recovery, we took several trips. Nothing makes me happier than wandering around in the wilderness with my most-favorite person. We visited Breck in February, Zion National Park and St. George in May, and made two trips with my family to our favorite beach this summer (Cape San Blas, FL).  Also, I met some of my running friends in New Hampshire for a relay in September. Thanks to what I suspect was food poisoning, my running was crap (literally), but the weekend spectacular. Side note – Zion stole my heart. If you haven’t been there, put it at the top of your list, you won’t regret it.

Professionally, fall brought a new, unexpected job opportunity and I begin working for the local health department in early November. I love my work, have wonderful colleagues and get to make good use of the knowledge gained during the challenging two years at my job in Fort Collins. The stress from that job is what triggered the flare of the autoimmune condition, but it’s also a wonderful kind of alchemy, because without that work, I wouldn’t be at the health department. Funny how that works.

Lows

With much gratitude for all that was good in 2016, I leave this year missing a piece of my heart. In early August, we said good-bye to our sweet Sadey, our trusty companion of 15 years. We knew her time was short this summer, but losing her left a void that will never be filled. I miss her velvety ears, her begging for butt scratches, the pacing on the hardwood to get our attention. We’d only been married three years when we brought her home, and in her sweet, quiet way she taught us how to be better humans. I’m so grateful she was ours.

I closed out the year with a freak accident, breaking a bone in my foot on a trail run with my sister. I spent several weeks on crutches followed by several more in a boot. I broke my foot 10 days before starting my new job. BAD TIMING. Once I was finally liberated from the boot, I came down with a lingering head cold, from which I recovered only to get the stomach flu. Other than a few random workouts squeezed in between bouts of illness, I’ve been sedentary for two months. I’m a great candidate for a Couch to 5k program. 🙂

2017

As I mentioned, I’m not one for resolutions, but I do have some intentions for the coming year:

  • Continue towards remission with the autoimmune condition. I need to make the dietary changes my doc recommended a year ago, which will go a long way towards getting me over this last hurdle. My procrastination on this is unexplainable, but typical.
  • Reclaim my identity as a runner. I haven’t run regularly since the end of October and it’s making me a bit crazy in the head. I hope to run lots and lots of miles in 2017.
  • More adventures. A few are already scheduled…we’re going to Breck in a few weeks where we’ll be taking a snowmobiling tour for the first time (in addition to skiing and snowshoeing), and I’m attending the Wilder running and writing retreat in Oregon in May. (Still totally geeking out about the retreat!!)
  • Take chances. The last few years have unintentionally been about getting really uncomfortable. Good stuff has come from it and I want to be mindful about continuing to take risks. Growth and transformation is hard, but so completely worth the discomfort.
  • Be present. As an introvert who lives in her head, it’s really easy for me to go about my days totally distracted. I’ve been working to be more present in whatever I’m doing, whether that’s talking with a friend, cooking food for the week, working on a puzzle, or sitting in a meeting. It’s REALLY hard. But important, I think. Put down the phone, turn off the TV. There’s so much I don’t want to miss.

Whatever your approach for the new year, may you spend it with the people you love the most. Wishing you health and happiness in 2017!