"are you a long distance runner?"

Recently, as I was getting ready to go for a run, someone I had only recently met asked if I was a long distance runner. Innocent question, but for me it was questioning my identity. I stopped for a second--how do I answer this? Is it a yes? No? It's been three years since I did any long distances. "Once an ultra runner, always an ultra runner...?" Maybe? Do I mention why I'm not doing long distances these days? Why do I feel the need to justify myself? So I just said, "I used to be," and left it at that. But that answer left me sad and dissatisfied. Am I (still) a long distance runner?

I keep telling myself I will get back to it, and I keep finding myself unable to do it. Every run is a struggle still, a battle between my low energy level, lack of fitness, lack of time, too much stress, etc.

Then asking myself: am I just making excuses? How much is legitimately because of my illness, meds and the situation, and how much do I just need to push through the hard part and make it happen?

And deep inside the ultra runner's heart is that pulse: just keep going. You'll get there.


Grieving Mindfully
A few weeks ago when I was really struggling I picked up a book called "Grieving Mindfully", by Sameet M. Kumar. I feel as though I have lost so much since this illness started. Running isn't just a hobby. It's my primary source of health, fun, stress-relief, and social activity. My running friends have always been my primary community, and without that I have felt isolated and left out; I see their photos and activities on facebook and I'm not with them and I feel alone (and sometimes even resentful). They're off doing what I wish I was doing, and I want to be doing it with them. And now the illness has taken away my business too, which I have loved and nurtured for the past five years (more about that in a minute). What's left, and where do I go from here? So I picked up this book because it was the only one in the store that talked about grief more broadly than just losing a loved one--it includes other kinds of grief and loss too--and because I started crying in the bookstore as I was reading the introduction. Regarding the "who am I?" question, I found this piece to be particularly potent:

We grieve whenever an anchor in our understanding of our identity is lost. Picture your identity as a necklace of precious stones that comes undone and needs to be restrung. If some stones are lost, new ones must be added to replace the old ones. Grief can be understood as the process of picking up the pieces of your identity (the stones) without the help of someone you had assumed would always be there, or without a relationship that was a crucial part of your life (the string). Grief is the process of finding out who you are in a world that is barely recognizable because of the tremendous change that has taken place. You may not be able to answer the question, 'Who am I?' for a long time after your loss.

I do recommend the book for anyone who is going through any kind of grief or loss...


And some news...

Now on to my biggest news. I mentioned above that my illness is taking away my business. The truth is that my business has been struggling ever since I got sick because I have not been able to give it the time and energy that it needs, especially given the bad timing of everything--which of course I could not have changed or controlled. So after long deliberation I have come to the difficult conclusion that I need to stop struggling and stressing over it, and I need to put my health first. So I am selling my practice. This is difficult because I love what I do and I love my clients, and yes, it is a loss and I am grieving that too. But it is the right thing.

And as ever, I'm so incredibly grateful for the people in my life who have walked with me through this. Most specifically in this case, Joanne, a beautiful example of someone from my running community who knows me and my business well enough to reassure me that it is the right thing to do. But also when I said that giving up my business felt like a DNF, she told me that "It's ok to choose a DNF when there is something greater at stake; even the pros do that." Thank you Jo-Jo!

The good news is that this is going to allow me to take some much-needed TIME OFF! Actual, real time off. No work for awhile. My plan for the summer is to read, run, hike, nap, and take some sailing lessons! :) And hopefully during that time get a new neurologist...