Why me?
It’s an understandable question; one that I took a few
minutes to ponder while sitting in an all too familiar waiting room. The lab request
form in my hand and my sleeve rolled up, waiting for the all too familiar
battery of tests. Nearly two decades later, two
decades, and the feelings of frustration, fear and anger seem to surface
pretty easily.
I was beginning to think that finally my body, the organism
that had been attacking me for a majority of my life, had finally given up its
struggle and allowed me to declare victory. I run for fun, I roll through mud
for fun, granted it’s under barbed wire with people yelling at me to go faster,
I scale walls for fun. I’m a four time marathon finisher, five time half
marathon finisher. I’m a Spartan!
December 30, 2013 found me sitting in an all too familiar
waiting room, of an all too familiar lab. The décor may have changed but not
really. It’s still sterile. Cold. Uncomfortable. The following day found me
ringing in the New Year with a new diagnosis.
Hypothyroidism.
Seriously?! I’m a marathoner and a Spartan! Who currently is
not allowed to marathon or Spartan.
My lab results revealed levels that were out of range by over 400%. A figure that didn't get there overnight, but the symptoms, looking back, that started about a year ago always had a logical reason; they seemed to fall in line with my training schedule. I merely
chalked the fatigue up to training harder for my races combined with the
fatigue that has plagued me since my bout of hyperthyroidism as a teen. While I was "thrilled" (so to speak) to finally have a
diagnosis and a name to put on what had becoming overwhelming fatigue (a phrase that doesn't properly explain the depth of my exhaustion), along
with a host of other symptoms….I was disheartened when I realized that for the
time being I am unable to train.
For the last few weeks I have been silently, longingly,
looking at my social media feeds, watching everyone’s gym stories, their below
freezing runs and their various accomplishments scroll by me. I don’t begrudge
my fellow Spartans and other racers their gym time, I just wish I was able to
take part.
It’s hard. It’s frustrating.
Why me? A question that has been rambling around for awhile.
Until I get a response, somewhere deep in the back of my brain.
Why not me?
I am after all a marathoning Spartan. It’s not as if I haven’t
been there, done this before. The symptoms and name might be different but the
impact is the same. Besides, a quick Google search of athletes and
hypothyroidism yields a list of Olympic athletes that I feel honored to be
among. Perhaps this just means I have become such a beast at the gym that my
body can’t handle ME.
I will admit that it’s not all sunshine and sprinkles’
raining down on a herd of unicorns, but it’s something that I can do. Do I want
to do it, not especially. But I will.
Why me?
Because. I am a marathoner. I am a Spartan. I can do
anything. And I will…..after I take a nap and my pill. Until then, I will
continue to stare longingly at my friends who are training and preparing for
races and competitions and remind myself, that I can do this, again.
