Renaming it “Bloody M.E.”

I’m aware that I’ve not posted for some time.

Have I stopped thinking you ask? Fat chance, I laugh.

So what’s going on?

Busy. Ugh.

Busy, busy, busy. Ugh.

So much going on that I’d either be on here full time trying to write about it or not on here at all, getting immersed in the experience, enjoying the good, the lovely, stomping my feet at the bad and trying to be compassionate to myself through the hard.

Mostly though, I think I’ve just been trying to take too much on.

I ran the Race for Life and was all fired up and enthusiastic about the fact that I ran it.

I signed up for the Cardiff Half Marathon and decided to take part in the Taff Trail Challenge again this year.

That is, after running 3 miles successfully, I decided that my body and I were ready to start training for a 13.5 mile run and a 50 mile bike ride.

Yup, even I question my sanity.

Person with M.E. makes it back to work, manages a 3 mile run, doesn’t need to spend a week in bed and decides then that that’s a good enough reason to assume capability to train like a demon.

But I was like – I’ve got 19 weeks – that’s forever, I can take it slow with the training etc, blah blah blah.

I didn’t account for being hijacked by my body (AGAIN!) and I’ve had my first bad week in like ages, and I’m feeling sad.

But I’m also feeling lonely, because it’s hard when you’re trying to keep up with your friends and no one really gets how you can just be sabotaged without a moment’s notice and have to cancel everything whilst you wait for your throat glands to go down, the tiredness to abate a little and the aching to stop.

No one really gets the headache that won’t bloody go away, or the ensuing crankiness that’s bound to set in due to the fact that you’re mentally stomping your feet and shouting, “NO, NO, NO. Fuck off M.E. and LET ME HAVE MY LIFE!”

I know that my life will return to me in due course, because I don’t and I won’t give up whilst I find a way around or through this.

But the figuring it out is hard to do. No bones about that. It. Is. Hard.

I find myself scared of being tired.

Paranoid about the glands under my jaw – “please don’t be up, please don’t be up, please don’t be up” I chant.

Acutely aware of muscle stiffness or aches and particularly pernickety about stretching.

More than a little pissed off and confused because I’d rather not deal with this at all thank you.

Don’t let me get started on the training.

Actually that’s not so bad. Just lonely too.

I’d like to have someone to ride my bike with, who isn’t loads fitter than me but still loves the same kind of bike riding that I do too. Mountain biking that is, not road riding (bleuh).

Even though running is a special type of meditation and some much needed alone time for me, I’d still like someone who was at least interested in my progress and there to encourage me along.

You know, as opposed to telling me I’m insane and that they hate running.

Perhaps I need to write a few personal ads, Havi Stylie. One for a riding partner, one for a running buddy and one for my ideal next job when this project ends.

Speaking of which, Christine Kane’s blog, Hell Maybe proved to be invaluable to me this week when I went for an interview. It was in my mind as I went in and on my mind as I came out of the interview. It meant that I was able to walk away saying, “Hell NO!” instead of dithering about for ages.

So that’s been my busy, busy, busy; lots of work, lots of friends, lots of training, interviews and the like. Followed by a little moan about Bloody M.E.

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One Response

  1. I’m so sorry you’ve been hijacked by your body again. That’s the perfect way to describe it, and it totally sucks.

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