History Lesson

This is the Facebook post that got the blogging ball rolling. Friends have been telling me for years that I should start writing, but it was not until this post from 3 July 2020 that the idea really became rooted in my mind. Before you read on, let me give a little history lesson about me and running: I initially hated it. I was a slightly overweight teen with a bit of an unhealthy diet (exercise? I thought you said extra fries!). I hated PE. So much so that I opted to play soccer for a season (a sport that I had never played before and knew nothing about) the Fall of my sophomore year rather than suffer through nine months of PE. I had fantasies, for lack of better wording, about being a track star and athletic but I was neither of those. On the contrary, I was a library-loving band geek. It wasn’t until my junior year of high school that I picked up the sport, a long with strength training, as part of my physical therapy for a knee injury (I’ll save that story for another day).

Amazingly, after the grueling intro period, I found that I liked exercise and I loved to run! I had been going for occasional bike rides before this point (as I had realized I needed to change something about my lifestyle) but in running I found new freedom. I was not fast and I did not go great distances but I did not care, the only thing that mattered to me was that I was running. Throughout my seven years at Washington State University running was what kept me sane by allowing an outlet for the stress. It became as much a part of me as my arms and legs, a part of my day along with eating and brushing my teeth. A few years ago I began to sense something was off–the activity I so loved was getting to be a grueling chore more than a source of relief. My body was telling me something was not right. It was not until the mid 2019 that I found out that my gut instinct was correct and something was very wrong with my body: I had autoimmune (AKA rheumatoid) arthritis. Join me now along the winding roads that encircle Loon Lake as I recall this portion of my journey…

A peaceful, idyllic country road. That’s where I’ve historically done a lot of my thinking and praying, both whilst running. Usually it’s a gravel road sliced between wheat fields like the lines on a tic-tax-toe board. This one is at Loon Lake and is a favorite of mine when I visit my in-law’s house. It was on this road a year ago today that I mulled over news from my PCP that recent lab work was consistent with autoimmune arthritis. While running, of course. While providing answers to a lot of questions that had plagued me for a few years it still hit me like a bomb. The last year has been much like traveling a mountain road…full of ups, downs, twists and turns. I had to give up running for many months. Not just because of the joint pain caused by my nemesis Rheumatoid Arthritis but also because of the fatigue that accompanies your body doing battle with itself. Not just “I’m tired from a day at work” type fatigue but full on “I can’t function more than to lay in the recliner” type fatigue. For this “always on the move, go getter” person this has been unfamiliar territory…admitting I’m human, that I’m sick, and that my body was screaming for a break. Screaming in pain from my neck to my toes, screaming in exhaustion from simple tasks. Running, while my solace, was not my friend.

I strengthened other “friendships” in the form of horseback riding extended distances, finding out along the way that my horse likes going fast and long distances as much as I do. I found my peace in new places. This journey has helped me find renewed strength in friendships and has helped strengthen my marriage. It’s helped me build empathy for my patients and their owners. It’s helped me realize what really is important in life. This morning I administered my fourth in what may likely be a lifelong series of injections to treat this disease. My 20 year old self never would have seen this on the radar. A year, multiple doctors visits, and several medications later we’re still searching for my “sweet spot.” I’m cautiously optimistic though as for the first time in a long time I feel like running again. My soul yearns to hit the road like it did several years ago, before this insidious disease started creeping in. Will this new combo of Enbrel and methotrexate be the one? Only time will tell. I’ve heard of patients searching for years for their “sweet spot” so I will continue to be cautiously optimistic. Life is much like this country road….you never know what lies around the next bend. The last year has shown me that though I may not know what is waiting for me I do know that there are lessons to learn, lives to influence, hope to be shared no matter how low I may feel. Even in my deepest pit of despair Hope was always there. Hope that the Lord would use my seemingly crummy situation to help others. And that has happened. My experiences, my pain, has provided me insight to help others through their own journeys. To give them the hope I searched for a year ago. So if you’ve read this far let me leave you with this thought: no matter how broken you or the world may seem, keep hope alive in your heart. There is someone out there somewhere who needs your hope to make it out of their valley.

“I have told you all this so that you may have peace in me. Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I have overcome the world.”

~‭‭John‬ ‭16:33‬ ‭NLT‬‬~