Tag: demons

Consistent, Careful Mileage

I’d like every day to feel like this morning, or to feel like the thrill of new friendships budding. Those are moments I feel like I’ve discovered something about existence.

I knew there was a reason I bought a Koala Clip with Shalane Flanagan’s iconic quote—my first response to Nick after today’s workout was “what the fuck!!!”

In the unreasonable heat, I told myself to just give it a go today. I ended up cruising in a 3 x 8 minutes workout: 7:35, 7:33, 7:24 with 3 minutes easy running between each. I did walk a bit of each recovery rep to bring my heart rate down in the heat, but still. A year ago I was only allowed to walk. Seeing how consistent, careful mileage building pays off has been a real joy.

I struggled to run these paces in good weather before the Cambridge half. I should say something about that half marathon, shouldn’t I? I raced a half marathon in May. About two months ago at this point. I PRed, unofficially by 3 minutes, officially by 2 minutes. The course was .15 miles long for everyone I talked to—unofficial or official, I ran a strong race at a 7:59 per mile pace. Consistent splits and positive self talk are two things I am so pleased I maintained during the race.

However, I do not recommend crying while racing. Around mile 8, I started thinking about where I was a year ago. Desperate for another surgery. Struggling to sleep because of all-encompassing pain. Bleeding through at least 40 tampons a menstrual cycle (I recently learned 8 tampons is “normal”). Always planning an escape plan for unplanned bleeding or pain. Yet here I was, flying through a half marathon. I hyperventilated for a bit, but there were still 40 minutes of running to go. Taylor Swift’s “22” started playing and I pulled it together. Show me someone that doesn’t smile when that bouncy chord opening starts.

More than the time, I am SO HAPPY to have experienced the social aspect of a race again. The chats before, commiserating during, the exhausted but thrilled recaps together after. Saying to each other things like “looking strong” or “we got this” or “I’ve been pacing you”. Overall, the race was a delight. I even threw myself into a group that was from Baltimore and chatted for a bit after the race. It took everything to not say “could we be best friends?” after the year without races.

As Jessica Pan wrote in her book, Sorry I’m Late, I Didn’t Want to Come, “Why can’t confidence and optimism come with a lifetime guarantee?” I would pay for that that. She recommends walking into a room like a tall American man. Are men ever rattled? I’d like every day to feel like this morning, or to feel like the thrill of new friendships budding. Those are moments I feel like I’ve discovered something about existence.

I took more of Pan’s energy into the Baltimore 10-Miler. Dare I say I enjoyed the 900 feet of elevation more than the flat race? What’s this? The scenery changed, no—the scenery rolled in Baltimore County country. Seeing the landscape helped me understand the area a bit more. The greens and blues crackled in the morning light. As the second race of the year, I also felt less emotionally overwhelmed. I’ll probably hop in a few more races throughout the summer while preparing for the Wineglass Half Marathon.

Books I’m thinking about/recently read:

  • Sorry I’m Late, I Didn’t Want to Come: An Introvert’s Year of Living Dangerously by Jessica Pan
  • Chesapeake Requiem by Earl Swift
  • Detransition, Baby by Torrey Peters

Stay sweaty and glittery. Black Lives Matter.

Pre-Race Small Joys

This weekend, I will run my first half marathon since 2018. The last half marathon was 6 days before my first endometriosis surgery. While visiting friends to run the St. Luke’s Half, I spent as much of the day before the half marathon as I could curled up on the air mattress, in agony. I wasn’t sure if I would even be able to finish the race. I did, and the last few miles were full of scream-whispering “f***” and taking a beer from a spectator at mile 11, then immediately regretting it. Will I ever take a beer from a stranger again post-2020?!

A year ago I was prepping to virtually interview Ellen Bass after getting news that I would be able to have a surgery I desperately needed with 5 business days to prepare. I do not recommend such a short amount of time to prepare to be out of work for 4 weeks in a short span of time. Why was I having surgery last minute? The scheduled surgery was cancelled due to COVID-19. So many of us in the chronic illness community lost access to care and procedures during the pandemic. So many of us lost more than the ability to travel.

Here we are in 2021, in a  different place. The race is very small, and I filled out the symptom questionnaire earlier today. I have A, B, and C goals for Sunday. No matter what, because as Nick reminded me, conditions always play a factor—I’ve come a long way from the pre-hysterectomy-and-second-excision-surgery crippling pain. I finished up mile repeats in my last big workout, cruising within 30 seconds of a mile time trial in December. As the greats say, LFG.

In honor of all the physical and emotional work I’ve done to live with endometriosis, here are some things I’m proud of in this training cycle:

  • I adjusted training runs as needed. I haven’t had pelvic pain since the excision and hysterectomy in May 2020, but I still follow my hormonal cues and adjust my intensity depending on if I am in my menstrual, follicular, ovulation, or luteal phase. Alissa Vitti and Dr. Stacey Sims can teach you a ton about exercise and your hormonal cycle. My acupuncturist, pelvic floor physical therapist, and orthopedic physical therapist have all been yelling at me about this for years.
  • I was able to note small joys in most workouts: the park blooming! Daffodil season! Feeling stronger in the recovery reps during speed workouts! So many doggos! There were definitely still runs with an “ughhhhhh”, so I put on Kesha/Lil Nas X/K Flay/etc. and just did it. Getting in some long runs with my friend Maura helped too.
  • Caring much less about how much faster other people are in easy paces. I generally run at the “high” end of my easy pace. Honestly, I still have concerns about fatigue and my hormonal balance, so I’ve accepted that I’m not going to crush my paces every time, especially on easy runs. The easy runs exist to build muscular endurance. I enjoyed them!

Books I’m thinking about/recently read:

  • One Life by Megan Rapinoe
  • Black Widow: A Sad-Funny Journey Through Grief for People Who Normally Avoid Books with Words Like “Journey” in the Title by Leslie Gray Streeter

Stay sweaty and glittery. Black Lives Matter.

Demons In Your Foot

With an acute injury or illness, there isn’t the this is your fault judgement that comes with chronic illness. No one says there are demons in your foot if it’s broken. No one says you deserve this. No one says that maybe if you did more yoga, ate kale, or got pregnant, you’d be cured of a broken bone. Rather, the healthcare team sets out with the goal: how do we fix this?

Having a chronic illness is the difference between walking into a doctor’s office and showing that something is visibly broken, versus walking into a doctor’s office with a list of symptoms that are deemed invisible. I’d say the effects of brain fog and pain aren’t invisible, but what do I know, I just live with them.

I’ve talked with quite a few people over the last month about their own endometriosis diagnoses. We’ve talked about what it means, and what they can do, where to find resources. Knowing that I put my story out there for people as a resource, receiving those messages still brings a wave of emotions. I know because I did (do) this to other people in the community too. You reach out to people when the healthcare system fails to give you answers. We’re speaking up at the doctor and being dismissed, so we go to each other.

I had so little information about returning to running after a hysterectomy. If you believe Google, your spine shrinks, you can literally do nothing fun ever again, and you become extremely unattractive overnight. This kind of information is on gynecological websites!! Luckily, I have a knowledgeable pelvic floor physical therapist. She kept me in check—that it would be a long recovery road, but there is no reason I wouldn’t be able to come back stronger.

February running was rough. I was also getting into contortion training, and because I never know my limits, I ended up freaking out my psoas muscles on both sides from overstretching. Every step hurt for most of the month. Every. Single. Step. I was terrified at first, then after figuring out more of what I did to myself (woops) with my orthopedic physical therapist, I accepted that I overdid it and needed to rest. I ran a bit over 60 miles the month of February, going out for short runs to keep moving as I healed. I was told that as long as I felt better after running, this was okay to continue.

March looked much better. Taking it easy worked. I’m so used to never-ending chronic conditions, with little hope. I told a friend in February that I didn’t even know how to address acute injuries anymore after thinking I broke my toe by dropping a glass candle on it (I went to urgent care and it was just badly bruised). The snowiest days overlapped with the worst of the psoas and toe pain, and for a bit I felt like I would have this pain FOREVER. Thank goodness for time. Honestly, I was shocked that rest WORKED.

I felt well enough to time trial the Shamrock 5k on March 13. I had some strong workouts in the bank from January, and 10 months after surgery, I was itching to test myself. I see it as a big moment of personal growth to go out to “race,” knowing it wasn’t going to be a personal record. My run coach, Nick, and I met to warmup, then he paced me. My goal was to go out strong, then keep descending. I managed to do just that on a breezy day on the Carroll Park 800, splitting 7:22, 7:15, 6:57, and 7:11 for the last 0.1. The first 2 miles felt quite controlled, and I fought in the last mile. Having an extremely fast pacer does help, but I had to stay focused on the surprising windy loop without the adrenaline of a race situation.

The in-person Shamrock 5k is notoriously fast. In my age group, the top 3 are all usually under 20 minutes—a virtual prize was not on my mind. Monday after the time trial, I received an email from a colleague that also runs, congratulating me. In a virtual year, I finished third in my age group. I immediately stared minimizing it, saying things like “well this will be the only year I do well at the Shamrock!” Then I stepped back. We are in multiple pandemics. I had major surgery 10 months ago. No matter what, this is an achievement to celebrate during an extremely difficult year. Anyway—as long as I can, I’m working toward faster and consistent running.

Now I’m in the final month of preparing for a half marathon. Again, I am excited and terrified to see what happens, even though I’m thinking of this as a confidence booster before a fall buildup. As I can consistently train because I’m not losing buckets of blood and overcome with full body pain, I keep seeing small improvements every day in pace and recovery. My mindset has changed, therapy is working!

The timing of my last read was perfect too—Meb Keflezighi’s 26 Marathons. He focuses on the training, the process, and running a smart race for the conditions you are in. The joy he feels in running shines throughout the book, and he reminds the reader every page that what matters in running is what you learn about yourself. As races restart and I chase down new goals, I keep thinking about his words: “I learned that giving your best even when you’re not at your best can provide insight into what’s possible when you’re on top of your game.”

Books I’m thinking about/recently read:

  • 26 Marathons by Meb Keflezighi
  • The Vanishing Half by Brit Bennett

Stay sweaty and glittery. Black Lives Matter.