It’s going to be so fun when I wake up one morning and get to write all about how “the Steroids have fully kicked in and my mysterious Crohn’s/colitis/Anthrax/SARS/bubonic plague/cholera is all cured up and I’m back to sleeping great and running strong!”
Sadly, today is not that day.
Today is the day I tell you that I am still Crohnsing quite a bit, and the Prednisone is taking its sweet time to work its way through my screwed up system.
I felt OK during the day at work yesterday. It’s not super comfortable being in a busy office when my stomach is in overdrive-mode, but it’s doable and I’m sick of whining about it and taking sick days out of the office.
At the end of the day, I felt OK enough to try a class at the gym. I thought about doing spinning, but talked myself out of it and opted for a 30-minute TRX class. Way less intensity, and 15 minutes shorter. Deal.
I felt fine throughout the class. Not great and not my strongest, which isn’t surprising since my body isn’t retaining many nutrients. But I was glad I went and worked up a bit of a sweat.
Then I got home and boom. Things were not pretty.
I ate what I thought would be a smart, stomach-friendly dinner: fish, broccoli and spinach, but it didn’t sit well with me. I spent the night tossing and turning and couldn’t get into a position that didn’t hurt or make my stomach feel all twisted and fidgety.
I’m sure Brian is thrilled to be dating me right now. I’m really bringing a lot to the table these days.
I take that back. I bring a lot to the table in the form of sailor dresses. Very crucial.
I woke up at Brian’s this morning and sensed that it was raining. (It was, in fact, pouring.) I was tired, but I wasn’t really sleeping anyway, so I figured I’d run.
Because that’s what I do when I don’t know what else to do.
I’m taking the medicine my doctor told me to take, and it’s probably working, but slowly.
I’m eating foods that millions of websites say are “Crohn’s-friendly,” but they’re causing little wars in my body.
I’m getting enough sleep (OK, fine, but I’m trying) and I’m not obsessing over my endless To Do lists. I know that stress will not help my case.
And still, this silly flare-up continues.
So my run this morning was nothing impressive. I ran 4.5 miles in total downpours. I didn’t run with music and the world was dark and quiet while I ran.
By “dark and quiet” I mean “at one point I veered onto the wrong path in Central Park because it wasn’t lit well and I convinced myself that was it for me.” Really, I envisioned a death-by-stranger-jumping-out-of-the-bushes-and-killing-me. Lovely morning thoughts, I know!
I got completely soaked and I hardly saw any other runners while I was out. I stopped once to use the bathroom, and I jumped directly into pretty much every puddle that washed out the Reservoir.
I was a mess when I got back home.
But I felt better.
Not physically, but mentally. My head was cleared. My worries were temporarily eased, and my new Sweat shirt is now officially broken in.
I have a lot to look forward to right now — trips, races, holidays that revolve around food — so I’m refusing to let this little setback bring me down very far. If I’ve learned one important lesson over the past two weeks, it’s that I really need to get over my constant need to control everything.
I can’t control everything. I would love it if I could, but, as my non-sugar-coating boyfriend so eloquently informed me, “If I try to please everyone and do everything, I will fail.”
So for now, I’ll do my best to take care of myself. I’ll sleep, I’ll eat what I can, and I’ll continue to run.
And yes, if you want to give me a puppy, I will walk it and play with it. Fine.