Adjusting to the rollercoaster

 I'm back to feeling pessimistic about my health and the prospect of ever regaining my former level of fitness. Perhaps I've been spending too much time on thyroid forums. I found one devoted to Graves Disease and the community has been helpful — I post my labs and others legitimize my complaints. "Your T3 is too high; that often causes shortness of breath." I read through their experiences, identify with their symptoms and take heart in their successes. I feel gratified, like I've found my people. And then I realize this is a forum for sick people. I miss the days of spending my time on the MTBR forums, asking questions about wheel size.

One woman has pushed the idea of looking for "environmental triggers" that increase autoimmune response — allergens, smoke, chemicals, certain foods. It haven't found studies on this, and it's difficult to convince myself this is a real problem. She's adverse to cleaning products and can only use the most gentle natural substances without triggering thyroid symptoms. I definitely thought "that can't be a thing" ... until yesterday, when I was using a bleach-based spray to scrub the pinkish mineral deposits from shower tiles. I made the mistake of spraying down a large area, then kneeling right down into it. After a minute my eyes began to burn and I erupted into a violent coughing fit. By the time I rushed into the next room for fresh air, my airways were tightening. I pounded up the stairs, wracked with painfully suppressed coughs, eyes clamped shut, snot streaming from my nose, gasping for air. I came close to calling 911 — the phone was in my hand — but gradually the coughs subsided and I could breathe again. It was awful. I've never had a reaction like that to anything.

After everything calmed down, I figured I was overreacting. Still, my eyes and throat burned, and I felt somewhat sick to my stomach for the rest of the day. Interestingly, I also seemed to experience a spike in "hyper" symptoms. My heart rate shot up to 105 and stayed there. I had hand tremors and jitteriness hours later. It seemed likely this was just leftover stress from my morning scare, so I still opted to head out on my bike to meet Beat as planned. That was a mistake. I felt short of breath during the long descent, and somewhat dizzy by the time I arrived in town. By then I was committed and had no choice but to ride the long climb home. Beat offered to ride ahead, get the car, and pick me up at a trailhead halfway up the hill. It took me nearly that long to muddle through half of the miles that Beat covered. As I sat on a rock waiting for him, I ruminated about what a feeble person I'm becoming. A few whiffs of bleach and my day is ruined.


Ugh. I've actually felt hyperthyroid for most of the month, and my June 12 labs confirmed that my T3 was (is?) too high. Starting the Bryce 100 was probably a mistake, but I can't take it back. The main reason I've been haunting online forums for tips and reassurance is because my endocrinologist wants me to stick with the status quo for now. The forum people tell me the rollercoaster is common. Treatment is specific to the individual, and it takes time to find the right balance. But after four months of treatment, my optimism is beginning to wear off. I know four months isn't a long period of time. It's still long enough to imagine what life will be like if things are always this way. It's going to have to be different. I won't be able to run an ultramarathon on a whim anymore. Possibly I won't be able to run an ultramarathon at all. So the reluctant struggle toward acceptance begins anew.


As long as I can keep hiking, I'll be okay. Beat and I went to James Peak on Sunday. My breathing was bad, and worsened as we climbed to 13,000 feet. Because of that, I felt rundown and frustrated. Mostly I felt frustrated. Frustration is an ego-based emotion, so I worked on adjusting my outlook as I plodded upward through the stunning landscape.

 It was as beautiful as a summer day can be — pleasantly warm, nearly windless, with bluebird skies above a cloud layer that hung over the plains.

 Beat on James Peak. As usual, he bounced back from Bryce 100 like it was a conventional weekend stroll. I admit I hear about others' training efforts and feel envy for their confidence and seemingly dependable bodies. For more than ten years now, I've looking to adventure planning and goals as a way to keep momentum going — physically, socially, and creatively. It has been and will continue to be difficult to adjust my outlook, and not just let nihilism take over.

Beat challenged me to consider where I'll be ten years from now. He likes to think big — finally vanquishing my demons on the Tour Divide, writing a best-selling book, moving to a cottage in Switzerland. I find myself thinking, "Alive. Alive would be nice." Somewhere in there is a happy medium where I hope to spend the next decade. I could start by siphoning my creative energy away from adventure, building it from other sources, and directing it toward a wider range of projects.

Until then, I can still draw a lot of peace and satisfaction from even these more-difficult-than-they-should-be outings. Although I have ambitions for next year's Iditarod, I'm trying to remove the internalized pressure. And there will definitely be no racing before then. In the meantime, I'll continue to work on stabilizing this rollercoaster and directing whatever energy's left to more productive and satisfying projects. If I'm healthy enough to hike in the mountains, I'm healthy enough.