360 Days

A full circle is 360 degrees, but a full year is 365 days. Saturday marks the 1 year anniversary of my EP Study and Ablation. Part of me feels like it was a lifetime ago I was wheeled into the room and woke to my heart feeling as if it really will beat right out of my chest. A year of so many changes. Things I’m still adjusting to as the happen, things I can’t even predict. My life changed forever that day and I still struggle with the mental and emotional repercussions.


It still floors me when I sprint (by foot, by bike, whatever) and I don’t end with the feeling I will choke. It amazes me I can drink coffee and pop without getting dizzy. It scares me when I feel a “hiccup” and have to remind myself, it is normal and now thanks to the procedure it is only one hiccup, instead of many many many leading to feeling dizzy and needing a nap.

Truth be told, I feel guilty for my body still being a stranger to me. I don’t understand my cardiovascular system anymore. I don’t understand my stomach as I adjust to strange dietary allergies. So few people can relate or understand what I am going through…and I feel guilty for talking about it. I feel boring for talking about it. I know everyone would rather hear all the glitter and rainbows, but things aren’t always what people want. I’m not depressed, I just feel like there are things going on I can’t talk to anyone about. I don’t want to hear “I understand confusion” I don’t want to hear “You’ll be OK”. I want someone who has the EXACT same situation…or someone who will say “I really enjoy you sharing these things with me”. And not someone I pay to listen. Haha.

The biggest change has been my view of life and love. For so many months leading up to it, and in the months following all I knew were numbers and figures on papers. What percentage this what percentage that and everything in between. I grew so tired of my life in numbers. What good did it do me to have such “great stats” when I wasn’t allowed to actually run or jump or skip or play? What good did a finish time do me when I tore my leg? How important where the miles, when I would have given anything to take my dog out on her leash again?

I still look forward to my events, and I still want to take care of myself…but I hate trying to manipulate the numbers and comparing myself to others. I find no joy in it anymore and I certainly am not motivated by it all. Maybe it’s a good thing my only partnership this year is with Zensah. I am free to do as I please and move about the cabin. Fun run 5k? I’m there. Zumba class? I’m there. Hiking with friends or a casual bike ride? I’m there. Medals and flashy crowds are great, but I keep losing the message some where in the mix. I spent the previous 360 days trying to “get back to normal”, never asking myself what that was or how I would know it when I arrived.

Everyone needs goals, and I know in the past I cherished my goal races. When I was out last season though, it wasn’t the medals or the shirts or the PRs I missed. It was the stories and the friends. I want to fall down in the mud, I want to tell impossible jokes in the middle of the night, I want to see someone’s toe nail fall off. OK I don’t want the last one. I do want to smile in pictures and play “name that trail”. I just want to feel at home again. Maybe my competitive nature will return. Maybe it won’t? After all…

It’s about an active lifestyle…not an elite performance

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