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.