Tag: pain

Feeling Athletic & Chronically Ill: Not Polarized Feelings

Setting the scene: I’m propped up on the chaise section of the couch with a heating pad on my back, a cat snuggled on my shins, while I think about the Baltimore Running Festival 5k. I set a personal record by 30 seconds yesterday, running the 5k in 21:23. This post will recap the race, then I’ll explain what I did to prepare while managing endometriosis. I share my endometriosis journey not so you feel sympathy, but to share information and break down the isolation that comes with the alienating condition. I run for the endowarriors that can’t because their kidneys or diaphragm are compromised from the disease, or because a doctor has not referred them to excision surgery.

First, the easy part: the race recap. The weather was PERFECT. The course was mostly shaded by buildings in the 7:30am morning sun while the temperature was around 50 degrees. I wore a Team Baltimore Flowtank top and shorts because I know I overheat. 

Mile 1: 6:49 pace

The first mile felt easy. I started close to a 6 minute mile, so I pulled back. My virtual coach from Charm City Run sent positive affirmations throughout training to help me feel confident in controlling the first mile. I also saw Frugal Nutrition a bunch of times on her bike. Seeing her brought me so much joy!

Mile 2: 6:58 pace

            I worked on staying controlled and strong, repeating lines from “Polarize” in my head. It’s deciding where to die and deciding where to fight, deny, deny, denial. I find those lines comforting, anyway. The course layout also helped with staying strong. The turn-around was at the halfway point, which helped me chunk each half mile as a small goal to reach. 

Mile 3: 7:00 pace

            The race is billed as “completely flat”—not true!! Maybe compared to the traumatic hills in the half marathon and marathon, but NO. Most of the race is like running at a 1-3 elevation on the treadmill. The course is a common route for my training runs, so I paid careful attention to these changes in order to mentally prepare, and you know, not have unrealistic expectations. The stretch of Key Highway next to Rash Field tends to mess with me. To push through these soft elevation changes, I thought about all my 6:30-6:40 paced repeats in sprint runs workouts.

Last .1: 6:15 pace

            I turned the corner of Charles and Pratt to face my partner and his family screaming, seeing them gave me strength to push it with everything I had left. I had more speed than I expected. I feel more confident that mile 2 can be more aggressive, setting me up to also push harder on mile 3. My heart rate never crested 150. After multiple 5k bonks with a final mile slower than 8 minutes, I can finally see I’m capable of a consistent race pace. My coach planned quite a few runs at tempo pace for 30-40 minutes. They are physically and mentally challenging, but that made the 5k speed seem less daunting.

Will I ever have cute race photos?

I was in my ovulation phase the week before the race, which brings escalating pelvic pain and fatigue as I get closer to my menstrual cycle (yes, despite having excision surgery 16 months ago). I acknowledged my fear that it would be detrimental on race day, then did my best to let the feeling go. Wouldn’t it be great to one day run a race on the most energetic day of my cycle! Rest, despite three evening events at work, was a priority all week. Also: water, gentle stretching, and easy work at physical therapy for an unhappy hamstring. My partner and I partially prepped dinner to remove the dinner decision making after long work days.

How did I prepare in general? In addition to working with a virtual running coach, I have an incredible care team that includes pelvic floor physical therapy, acupuncture, and a gynecologist. I also take extra care to preserve my health by reading about the latest endometriosis research and hormonal cycles in training. If you are looking for a start in your endometriosis journey, join Nancy’s Nook on Facebook. The group has the latest research resources and doctor recommendations. The admins work tirelessly to remove misinformation.

An awful truth: most of my care is not covered by insurance. On top of endometriosis having a 7-10 year diagnostic window, most of the best care is still difficult to access. There are multiple reasons: dismissal of women’s pain (just read this essay by Tressie MacMillan Cottom), inadequate diagnostic procedures, or insurance companies deeming excision surgery medically unnecessary. When your body is experiencing pain for such a long time, it takes extra care after diagnosis to get close to a baseline of “normal,” which I like to think of as pain-free. I’m still not there. Working to balance my hormones and energy levels with everything listed above has been a start. I cycle syncto nourish my body, including easy activities at certain times, even when I’m working towards big running goals. 

More than the pain, I’m at a point where I can barely control my anger about inadequate care and access to resources. Writing to break the silence is my main advocacy now, though that will change as I meet more people working to create change.

Some books I was thinking about while writing this:

  • The Body Paper, Grace Talusan
  • Music for Wartime, Rebecca Makkai
  • Thick, Tressie MacMillan Cottom

Now, to take a week off from running to stretch, practice yoga, and learn new hamstring strengthening tools at physical therapy. Stay sweaty and glittery.

Curious Potential

Beating Endo: How to Reclaim Your Life from Endometriosis and ROAR: How to Match Your Food and Fitness to Your Unique Female Physiology for Optimum Performance, Great Health, and a Strong, Lean Body for Life arrived earlier this month. As I continue to work toward a sub-20 minute 5k, I’m also working on taking to heart the advice from my acupuncturist and pelvic floor physical therapist: running easy (or not at all) while I have my cycle. I’ll write more about my experience with those books and a virtual running coach after the Baltimore Running Festival 5k. I’m so curious about potential.

Why is not running so hard? I spent a decade being told my pain was normal. I was treated as if I was lying, weak, or hysterical. I needed to take the pill or suck it up. The message was that it was my fault I couldn’t stomach the pain. I was already practicing this kind of self-talk anyway–I swam on a team where the coach said that you’re recovering while sitting in class in between morning practice and evening practice. Unlearning those beliefs will take time. I’ve been repeating the phrase that Sonya Renee Taylor created an organization around: the body is not an apology.

I’m curious to see how radical self-love and athletics interact as I face the unknown. I’d like to think they’re not mutually exclusive if the movement is about exploring the unknown and internalized expectations. Taylor recounts an encounter with a free-diver as description of the journey of radical self-love: “learning the difference between fear and danger.”

As I read Taylor, my thoughts wander to Leslie Heywood and Shari Dworkin’s Built to Win: The Female Athlete as Cultural Icon: “Serious athletic training paradoxically produces a profound (and only partially mistaken) sense of the self-authorship of one’s body. This sense is one of the benefits of sport—you get beyond a culturally mediated sense of your body…And you feel that, through your labor, you’ve made yourself.” Have I used athletics to make myself? As much as I want to PR at 31, I run for the endo warriors who can’t. The ones whose kidneys and diaphragms are compromised by the disease, the ones whose healthcare won’t cover excision surgery. I see your fight and this is where I am in mine.

I’ve run with two Baltimore running groups this month: Faster Bastards and Riot Squad Running. Both groups are open and supportive and use positive self-talk when talking about new races. I love this, and plan to continue running with them while remembering that ultra-marathons may not be for me, though I have the joy of spending a Saturday morning running around the waterfront for 10 miles. It’s not lazy that I prefer 5k and 10k races. As my health changes, I’m going to continue to explore potential. 

Some books I was thinking about while writing this:

  • The Body Is Not an Apology: The Power of Radical Self-Love, Sonya Renee Taylor
  • Built to Win: The Female Athlete as Cultural Icon byLeslie Heywood and Shari Dworkin

A Playlist For Every Pain

Legitimate endometriosis specialists and advocates will be on The Today Show next week. It feels like a change in awareness is coming. The air is less salty, even the ground has a spring. 

I am thrilled, especially because earlier this month an endometriosis specialist in the area was on the morning news, sharing outdated knowledge. One of those statements was that it’s common for folks with endometriosis to have another surgery in two years. With true expert excision surgery, that’s incorrect. Let’s consider the monetary cost, without even mentioning the physical and emotion cost of surgery: the doctor expects someone to accept that every two years the patient will 1. take significant time off work and 2. pay for invasive $20,000 surgery? How is this acceptable care for something that has barely been researched?

I want to follow the light today. I don’t want to think about the doctor that told me I don’t look sick, when I went to her for help with a list of symptoms. Or the anxiety that comes with each ovulation. Or the depression that comes with a lack of change under a new treatment. I want to talk about music that keeps me going. The Warped-Tour-mixtape-generation has stuck with me through changes in media. I have all sorts of playlists, from running fast as an emo kid to getting to work and writing. Here are some highlights from my chronic pain playlist:

Ace of Base – The Sign
I know what you’re thinking. Ace of Base? Life is demanding without understanding. This is Swedish pop, right? I’m trying to write these without major research, more with gut reaction. The sticky-pop has existential lyrics, like the period of time right before diagnosis.

Janelle Monáe – Tightrope [feat. Big Boi] 
I first heard this song in a spin class with “Crazy Eddie.” I associate this song with sweat on the floor, triumph in my heart. Joy in the face of pain. Belief in my body. I keep on blaming the machine.The fine balance Monáe sings about is just PERFECT. Don’t @ me, I love this song.

Amanda Palmer – Runs In The Family
A friend gave me a collection of Amanda Palmer/Dresden Dolls songs in 2014 and my mind exploded. They blend performance, art, and theatrics beautifully. Runs In The Family captures the anxiety and rage that come with invisible chronic illness, and considers the question of intergenerational trauma. If wellness is this what in hell’s name is sickness. Want to say that I don’t look sick again? 

Migraine – twenty one pilots
I’ve agonized a bit over which twenty one pilots song to include. I was a late adaptor—coming to the band when Stressed Out was released. But of course, they were first signed to one of my favorite pop punk labels, Fueled By Ramen. I mean, they expemplifiy the dancy-pop-punk full of angst that I still can’t get enough of. I think I just like how sad and hopeful this song specifically is.

Panic! At The Disco – Nails For Breakfast, Tacks For Snacks 
Speaking of Fueled By Ramen, I have to be honest and include Panic at the Disco (no exclamation point right now, right?). A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out was inspired by Chuck Palahniuk’s books. Though I’m not Team Chuck since finding feminism, I can’t deny the sad-Vegas-pop-punk fusion I spent time with in high school. This song, and many of the early Panic songs, feel like when you’re trying to assert that you are in pain and deserve to be heard.

That’s an excerpt. The playlist will be constantly changing, like my levels of hope. Listen here.

Stay sweaty and glittery.

On Spontaneity

Unfun confession: I am not spontaneous.

I never was—as a kid, the next swim practice was always on my mind. Lists were necessary for everything: swim-meets, vacations, reading, goals, my future house. I was creating vision boards before they were trendy. Every Sunday, I’d cut out my favorite furniture from weekly newspaper circulars for my future house. Could it have been the naming? Or was it having something to look at in the uncertain fog of childhood? Endometriosis has been part of my vocabulary, my identity, for over a year. I have a name for the cloud, but what can I do with it?

I’m still a list-maker and planner. It’s also all about tracking workouts, moods (I am always a mood), self-care, physical therapy, and sleep. Why? I have still been experiencing significant chronic pain and fatigue after excision surgery. Tracking symptoms is a way to see patterns and identify triggers. The scientific collection of statistics is a ritualistic calming. 

As I write this, I still think I should be more spontaneous. Instead, I plan my life around pain. My period is usually regular, so I plan everything—rest, social time, dates, workouts, events—around how I may be feeling. Otherwise, what if I’m caught in public without an arsenal of tampons? What if I’m stuck in a crowded event, in pain and unable to get to a seat? What if I have to cancel on someone because I didn’t anticipate how ghostly my body would feel? What if I’m so overwhelmed by symptoms I’m being a neglectful partner? Some days, I think a cane for high pain days would be a good investment. Yesterday, I barely made it up a flight of stairs before ceding to the elevator the rest of the day. This may be surprising when you look through my Instagram feed. That’s curation. I prefer to celebrate what feeds my soul online, especially when I need something positive to get through the hard days. I’m the master of the lean with the hip-cock. 

I have been turning the phrase by Rio Cortez in my head for what feels like years: “I have learned to define a field as a space between mountains.” Time and space have a different meaning when you’re racing your limits. Energy is collected in an attempt to maintain inertia. That’s not what her incredible chapbook is about, but the title has taken on a meditative role in my life. I will repeat from my Goodreads review: “if we can communicate how history has made us, there may be space to move forward.”

Tracking, naming, and identifying will probably always be part of the process. I’m an amateur adventurer in all of this. At least until there is some sort of cure for endometriosis.

Some books I was thinking about while writing this:

  • Laurel, Tyler Mendelsohn
  • I have learned to define a field as a space between mountains, Rio Cortez

Stay sweaty and glittery.

An Element of Control

In the spirit of crampedstyleblog’s #selfcarefebruary on Instagram, I’ve been looking closely at what I’m doing when my body starts to shut down. Last month, so many things were missing from daily routine: multiple rest days, dedicated stretching time to keep (my) hips open, allocated time to indulge in pleasurable reading. My body starts to rebel with pain and sour moods when I try to consistently crest 25 miles in a week, at least from what I’ve gathered through tracking my runs over the past couple of years. To try and do better, I’ve added a “self-care” column to my training log.

See! It’s real. I add text or glyphs to spice it up, like executing my glute and core physical therapy exercises are MONEY. Workouts I haven’t done yet are in pink. An aside—can we have a moment for the improvement in technology, from the inaccurate Nike running chips in vogue a decade ago to the relatively accurate Garmin technology of today?

Mileage and workouts might not seem important to everyone, but testing the limits of my body has been a lifelong habit. Swimming for hours a week, sucking in chlorinated air hoping that millions of strokes will lead to some sort of momentary glory. Racking the weight at incrementally higher amounts on the squat rack, knowing that my secret weapon was kicking underwater like a dolphin for fifteen meters at a speed faster than most of my peers. Tenacity is a piece of identity I’m not willing to forgo. Chronic illness changes this perception of invincibility.

I think of this quote from Sick when the attempts to feel alive, to feel healthy, seem out of reach:

“If you know a part of you is always dying, taking charge of that dying has a feeling of empowerment.”

There is something in pushing the limits, in feeling a rush, however it is found. There is an element of control, a belief that there is a choice.

I see overlapping threads in recovery memoir, illness accounts, and athletic feminist theory, like Leslie Heywood. My curiosity piques when the author pushes against the perfect story, the perfect feminist character, the story of what is supposed to be best for your health. These accounts, these protagonists, these people are not perfect plaintiffs. I’m looking at the complex stories broadly to identify threads, like The Recovering by Leslie Jamison, Pretty Good for a Girl by Leslie Heywood, Sick by Porochista Khakpour, Don’t Let Me Be Lonely by Claudia Rankine, and Annie’s Ghosts by Steve Luxenberg. There are more, but I think that brief list gives a smattering of the different approaches–in form and content.

I’m looking to expand my list, so please comment with recommendations. A few books I’ve been meaning to read: The Amputees Guide to Sex by Jillian Weise, The Carrying by Ada Limón, The Collected Schizophrenias by Esmé Weijun Wang, and Crumb-Sized by Marlena Chertock.

Thanks for reading. Stay sweaty and glittery.

Welcome

Welcome to #poetsthatsweat.

On this blog, I’m bringing together my two loves: language and movement. I started using the hashtag, #poetsthatsweat, facetiously a few years ago to get over my embarrassment of being a jock and artist. I’m no longer concerned about being embarrassed.

I’ve also spent a long time pretending to be fine. Since officially diagnosed with stage IV endometriosis in April 2018 (after over a decade of pain, more in a later post), I’ve been looking for ways to express joy. Casual clothes, hard work, and coffee fuel me, but I’ve had to be more strategic if I’m being honest about the chronic fatigue that comes with endometriosis. I’m always thinking about how I will feel in the coming days, trying to ration my energy while still participating in things I love.

On this blog you’ll find my thoughts on running, circus arts (find a solo of me losing myself in a Kesha song here), writing, and reading in the context of health. All things that lead to joy in some way. Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, right?

Most recent reading pleasure: I finished Station Eleven yesterday morning. What an intricate, masterfully written book. Emily St. John Mandel weaves multiple lives together in a society nearly decimated by the Georgia Flu. As you read, you find out how Station Eleven has touched each character. The world is so big, yet so small in the energies of lives that bind us. This line stuck with me:

“If nothing else, it’s pleasant to consider the possibility.”

I want possibilities to look better for future generations of women, womyn. Treatment in the healthcare system is a piece of equal opportunity. Endometriosis hasn’t been studied on a broad scale, only recently receiving major funding.  Medicine’s history is full of patriarchal treatment. I can look back at the rage in my poetry and say “I see why you feel that way.” I am not the first to say this either. Read Dora Malech’s The Kenyon Review blog post CLIFTON, PAIN, AND POETRY. There is finally federal funding to research endometriosis, which will hopefully mean something.

For now, here are some quick resources that have helped me:

Thanks for reading. Stay sweaty and glittery.