By HPRS Staff Columnist Holly Rapp
Six months ago, I wrote my first piece for HPRS about how grateful I was for the ability to run again after a long injury- and illness-induced hiatus. I planned to follow up with several race reports chronicling my first ultras. At this time of the year, I thought I would be working on a recap of the Indian Creek Fifties. I instead find myself writing a much different essay, one that acknowledges the fact that for the last few months, I have once again been unable to run.
So how did I end up back here?
Around the time I ran my first ultra in April 2018, I felt like something might be wrong. I was quite sick during and after the race, but figured maybe this was part of the expected experience. With each week that passed, however, I felt progressively worse.
Being a somewhat stubborn runner, I figured I just needed to work harder. My runs, however, quickly became shorter and slower until they devolved into run/walk sessions dominated almost fully by the latter. I was confused when walking started to take as much effort as running. I started spending an inordinate amount of time laying by the side of the trail mid-run in what I called “trail naps,” a term I made up in a futile attempt to hide my fear about the growing frequency and necessity of these stops.
As my running declined steadily, I experienced a series of increasingly alarming symptoms. After innumerable doctors visits and tests, I was recently diagnosed with multiple autoimmune conditions that can be managed but not cured. Many of the problems these diseases cause – including extreme GI issues, severe anemia, and muscle weakness, to name a few – make running seem nearly impossible. I understand I shouldn’t expect to feel better or to run well anytime soon. It has been extremely disorienting to go from running for hours happily through the mountains to sometimes needing help getting out of bed. I don’t know if I have fully accepted any of these facts.
But whether or not I want to accept it, this is the reality I am living. Where, then, do I go from here?
The only real option I see is to make the best I can of what I have. I can’t control whether or not I am sick, but I can determine my attitude and how I approach this situation. Though it isn’talways easy, I still try to look at every day with gratitude for everything possible.
As often as I can, I try to go outside and run or walk. On the best days, I cover a few miles on my favorite trails with small spurts of something approaching actual running mixed in. On the hard days, trying to maintain 20-minute per mile pace might bring me to my knees, literally. But I am so grateful for the days I can still get out and enjoy the trails, which I know is more than some are able to do.
Though I am disappointed to miss the races I had planned for this year, not running them has given me an incredible chance to volunteer and crew at these events. (Click here to learn more about race and trail work volunteer opportunities with HPRS). I can say honestly that helping other runners achieve their goals feels even better than doing a race myself. It’s also nice to feellike I am still part of the running community. The opportunity to write for HPRS has been another wonderful way to stay connected to running. I am grateful I have so many opportunities to keep running in my life.
Throughout all this, my saint of a running partner, for reasons I do not understand, has not dropped me. He has stayed patiently by my side through “runs” at walking paces so slow that time moves backwards. I can’t even begin to explain how grateful I am for his friendship, especially during this difficult period.
Most of all, I feel incredible gratitude that so many important things have gone well for me. I have insurance, access to health care, and a supportive spouse and family. I am in a privileged enough position that I can spend energy worrying about not running, a luxury some may not have. When I step back and look at everything through the right lens, I see there is so much tobe grateful for that it’s hard to justify feeling bad about not being able to run.
At the same time, I want to be able to run so badly it hurts, a feeling only other runners will understand. I don’t want to give the false impression that I am always positive, as I certainly am not. I have dark days and moments when I feel like everything is falling apart, and sometimes I am afraid I will never be a whole runner again. I still haven’t come to terms with the notion of chronic illness and the fact that I will deal with these issues for the rest of my life.
But I hold close the knowledge that these challenges will only make my runs and races all the more spectacular when I am able to do them. I still cannot wait to take on my first hundred miler. I’ve been dreaming about Silverheels, which I had planned as my first hundred in 2018. You can bet I will do everything possible to be at that starting line someday, and I will be unspeakably grateful for the opportunity to be there.
When you head out for your next run, I hope you feel the same gratitude I do for the chance to be out there. And if you are at a point in your life where running isn’t possible, know you are not alone.
See you on the trails soon, I hope.
