Running through Middle-earth
Miles from Hobbiton: 22.55
Miles to Rivendell: 435.45
I seem to be inspiring other people to run. Go me!
I figured I'd wrap up this week's training with a post about my decision to start running. I mentioned before that when I was a kid I did track for a year. I wasn't very good at it, and I'm not entirely sure I enjoyed it, but it was nearly twenty years ago so I can't remember the details. Except that I did a relay at a track meet and we did ok. Maybe?
In any case, my adult life for the past twelve years has been fraught with many negative factors. Since before I was a teenager, I've struggled with depression, and undiagnosed anxiety. When I hit my teenage years, especially when I was about 19 and going into my twenties, I started getting very, very sick. Nothing that really alarmed us at first (the 'very' wasn't known until later). Just stomachaches and other things that started small and grew and grew, but slowly enough that I didn't realize how much pain I was living in or that I started to subconsciously steer away from certain foods. It got worse until I couldn't ignore it anymore. After a couple years of back and forth, a colonoscopy, a very expensive blood test, a small bowel series, and finally culminating in me swallowing a pill-sized camera to take photos of my digestive system, I was diagnosed with Crohn's disease around Thanksgiving 2008.
It wasn't a surprise by that point; my mother and aunt both have the disease, and I'd had the symptoms for so long that the diagnosis came as a relief. I could finally start getting treatment. I wanted to be healthy.
Treatment didn't really work. It sort of did, for awhile. I was still sick a lot. I was still limited. Not by too much, as I went to Hong Kong in the summer of 2010 and didn't have any Crohn's issues there, thank goodness. But the next year? I consider 2011 the worst year of my life, and considering some of the bad crap that's happened, that's saying something. In any case, it started earlier in the year, with strange arthritis pain, and then continuing on with an abscess that burst in late summer. And then a round of visiting doctors and surgeons before I finally went in to a consultation with a surgeon specialist a week after my 25th birthday. I left that day after undergoing a surprise surgery. The rest of the year was still pretty pitiful, as recovery wasn't easy.
I did okay for awhile. I just did my thing for the next few years, including going on an epic trip to Australia and New Zealand (that included a 20 km hike over an active volcano), and I was put on Humira because my Crohn's was still acting up. Finally, I thought! A medication that actually WORKS. Sure, I had to inject myself twice a month, but it was worth it.
Until it wasn't worth it anymore.
Last year I started getting arthritis again. Ask anyone I hung out with for any length of time last summer and into fall. I could barely move without pain. Sleeping hurt! I don't know how I managed to work so much. My hair started falling out, I'd have weekly migraines, my appetite was so low I barely ate and lost 10 pounds. I finally went to my doctor, who referred me to a rheumatologist. After undergoing upwards of 25 blood tests, it was confirmed. I had drug induced lupus. From the Humira. Good news? It goes away when you stop the medication. Bad news? It takes FOREVER for a major biologic like Humira to work itself out of your system.
But by Christmas, I was nearly back to normal again. Still some stiffness in my hands when I woke up, and by Easter that was completely gone.
Three weeks ago, I looked at my life. I was still getting my strength back from my vicious arthritis. I'd already started eating much healthier long ago since I started cooking more and I'd learned to love vegetables. I realized that I'd tried so many times to get fit and failed because I was afraid of getting sick. I mean, I hated exercise too, but I know a large part of my reluctance was because I was just waiting for the other shoe to drop. I was going to get sick again, full stop. Crohn's has no cure.
But last September, I got some of the best news of my life. Humira gave me lupus, but it also forced my Crohn's into remission. It can and probably will come back, but I've felt the healthiest I have since I was a teenager. Since before then, I think. I'm getting treatment for my depression and anxiety, so my head is getting healthy. My body isn't attacking itself and I can eat whatever I want without being scared I'm going to be ill.
It was time. And I think it really was. I mentioned before how I'd fail every time I'd try to run. This time, I'm doing better each day. I'm sure I'll have setbacks; every athlete does. But I'm looking forward to running. I'm looking forward to my first 5K on May 22nd. I'm looking forward to hitting the pavement with my headphones and my silly zombie app.
I want to hit my 30th birthday as a healthy, happy athlete. I think I've got a good start. I have friends and family who are supporting me, even if it's just a like on my progress statuses on Facebook. I have a good job, sweet pets, and my own little house. I'm doing good. I'm doing real good. I've fought my way here, through literal blood, sweat, and tears.
Every time I go for a run I can tell myself that I made it this far. I may have a chronic disease. I may have depression and Generalized Anxiety Disorder, and they may attack me in the future. But right now? Right now I'm doing what I want to do, and I'm loving every minute of it.
