I have been recoiling lately. Pulling away from sharing myself and my journey, as I have throughout my long career. I’ve seen a shift recently in the way that my openness and vulnerability has been received and its been extremely trying for me.
The past year has been especially hard since my diagnosis. 2023 has been rocky. The last 2.5 months have been agonizingly painful for me. I wanted to tell the story and reality of what it is like to have multiple autoimmune diseases and having PMDD and going through perimenopause, all while trying to compete at the highest level of the sport. But I’ve felt shut down more and more by the:
*toxic positivity
*toxic gratitude
*lack of empathy or real offers of support
*lectures on how I am doing it wrong or not trying hard enough
*gaslighting dismissals of how I feel
*the occasional person who just tells me flat out to stop complaining because I have nothing to complain about.
The more I have sought connection, the more deeply I have felt the chasm grow. I have felt alienated and disconnected from the community I use to feel so thoroughly a part of. In response, I have pulled back on posting what I really think and feel in any meaningful way on social media. I deleted my SubStack (though obviously can’t stay away from writing because here I am). I discontinued my podcast, deleting its existence completely. And no one noticed, or has said, “hey, are you ok?”. Because the answer would be “no”. And I have always felt like people relied on me to be OK no matter what I am going through. I have extreme self-reliance and hyper-independence when it comes to trying to take care of myself emotionally because I was forced to through repeated early traumas. I literally have been deliberately and extensively abandoned during the hardest times in my life. And so I learned to show emotions to people when I already had them figured out. I am known as a highly emotional person, but what people actually see is such a small sliver of who I am. Other than my therapist and my husband, very few people see an unedited version of my emotions. I have been gaslighted so many times that my feelings aren’t real or had my feelings diminished or dismissed completely that I internalized that people cannot handle my emotions and don’t want to hear it. I have also internalized the practice of gaslighting myself that my emotions aren’t real because that is what I was taught as a child.
Over the past year, I have been put on and taken off some of the most powerful medications in the world. Over the past year, I have dealt with such debilitating PMDD/perimenopause symptoms that routinely exacerbate all of my autoimmune symptoms, that I essentially lose function for an entire week leading up to my period, which has also become more frequent. Over the past year, I have tried to navigate what it means to be a chronically ill person and a competitive runner. Over the past few months, I have missed multiple races because of weather cancellations. I have missed other races because of travel debacles. And I’ve missed races because they have coincided with when my PMDD, and therefore Lupus symptoms, are at their worst thus rendering me unable to feel good while running. In the last two months, I missed two races that I have been waiting YEARS to return to because of contracting Covid and getting rebound Covid. In that time, I had some major medical events, my horse tried to die and almost everyone I know forgot my birthday. In all this time, I have tried to grit my teeth and bear it, push forward to the next thing. Even though I was suffering, even though I was heartbroken at missing events I truly cared about.
It was 3 days after I finally tested negative for rebound Covid, that I nearly lost my shit on someone who blithely asked, “are you even going to race this year?”. As if I hadn’t been trying, as if I hadn’t been doing literally everything in my power to be on startlines. I pushed onwards to Silver Rush, even though I did not feel motivated to race coming out of Covid. I felt the urge to wipe the slate clean, to rest, to listen to my own deep knowing, to be patient and wait for my answers to come. I raced and I felt terrible. When I reflected this in a post on Instagram, somebody who should know me better said, “you always say that”. There were many triggering things about this beyond the obvious gaslighting. First off, in the 130+ races I have done, I have only said, “that’s the worst I’ve ever felt” like 5 times. Secondly, if I have said it more frequently in the past year, it is because my body is doing battle with major autoimmune conditions and PMDD, and I have actually felt more like shit in the past year than in my entire life. It completely invalidated my experience and pushed me further to feel that the community really is not listening to each other anymore. I have seen such a huge push to do more, be more, run the most ridiculous challenges, never utter a negative word, celebrate only the most epic, show no weakness and ALWAYS ALWAYS BE FUCKING POSITIVE. When the reality is, I know behind close doors, so many other athletes are struggling with their mental health because almost everyone actually feels like they are failing.
I came away from Silver Rush deeply shaken. For most of the race, I did not want to be there and I had to dig deep into my resilience to turn it around and win. I came away hesitant to run Leadville 100 which I had earned entry into via my win. But I accepted the spot. I did what I habitually do and I pressed forward because I need to do more, be more, prove myself once again. That is the message I am getting from the ultra community. 17 years of consistency at the top of the sport and I still get the “what have you done lately?” comments and attitude. I’ve raced 4 times this year and it feels like that’s not enough (despite the fact that it would be 7 races had I not had 3 weather cancellations, it would be 9 if i hadn’t gotten Covid). I overrode the overwhelming despair that was growing inside me. I trying to snuff out the feelings of disengagement and burnout. I pressed forward. I waited, I watched, I numbed. I continued to train and hope that I would be excited again. That I would feel like a race, any race, would feel like a hell yeah to me. But the feeling never came. I was going to run White River a few weeks ago as a tune-up for Leadville but in the days before the race I became so symptomatic with PMDD, that when my coach asked me, upon answering the phone, “how are you?” I just sobbed and couldn’t answer. I spent 5 days debilitated and didn’t race. I kept waiting and waiting to have clarity on whether I should run Leadville and in a moment of temporary inspiration, I committed. The deferral date passed and the Airbnb became non-cancellable.
And the symptoms returned as bad as before White River and now I am 36hrs away from starting a race that I am not sure I should race. If I do post this or share this, I know people will tell me I will be fine and of course that is possible, I cannot predict the future. But last year feeling this way, I was not fine. I had one DNF feeling this way. And I had one agonizingly awful day at High Lonesome with these symptoms. Yes, I know I can push myself through these symptoms but why? I have suffered enough in my life. My pain cave is infinitely more cavernous than most. I have been places most others have not. Every day in my life of trying to overcome huge amount of trauma and the psychological impacts and habits from such, is hard. Being chronically ill, is hard. I do not run ultras because I want to suffer. When I am running at my best, I do not suffer- I am actually my best self, easily utilizing the tools I have to navigate the ups and downs of a race. Let me be very clear: at this point in my career, I am running to compete, to be my best, to see how good I can be, to push my limits. Yes, not every day is going to be my best day, but I DO NOT need to suffer for sufferings sake. Lining up when I feel extremely compromised because of things I cannot control, like perimenopause symptoms wrecking havoc on my body, is something that I do not want to do.
And yet, here I am in Leadville. I am going to give myself a chance to feel better. But I am also not going to force myself to take on 100 miles if things do not shift and recover. I think the greatest thing I am trying to embody right now is doing the right thing for myself for the right reasons, even when I think that people will judge me or misunderstand me. I have spent my whole life trying to over-explain myself so that people would understand me and it hasn’t worked. People will decide what they want to. I need to let myself be misunderstood. I need to start doing what I want to. I need to take care of myself. I need to find a way back to living a life that lights me up and feels good. I need to say loud and proud, “No that doesn’t serve me”.
Hi Devon. I know this post is from many months ago. But I just found your substack via Sarah Lavender Smiths Substack. I just wanted to say hello and say I am very happy to have found your substack and look forward to reading more. I appreciate how candid you are in about your experiences. I can't imagine how challenging it must be to naviagate chronic illness and compete at the top of the sport. I am a mid packer in my 40s that disengaged from the community for several years. (still trying to unpack why I felt the need to do this). I started running again in the fall of 2023 and found your podcast and really enjoyed listening to it on my runs and I am grateful to found your substack and look forward to reading more. Take care and huge congrats on your 6 day race!
hey Devon, I'm glad to find your new Substack (I found it because you recommended mine, thanks)-- I was wondering what happened to Devon's Dispatch and assumed you were taking a break from it -- but I'm super sad to hear you deleted the Women of Distance podcast, because I enjoyed those archived episodes periodically. I really feel for you, especially with the severe PMS (PMDD, which I also had in my 40s). I recall how horrible it was the week or two leading up to my period, so almost half of every month I felt desperately moody and depressed—objectively knowing my anger and anxiety were inflated, but being powerless to moderate those feelings—and my body ached and felt sensitive in abnormal ways (even plucking my eyebrows hurt ridiculously when I was PMSing!). I'm impressed you started Leadville and then pulled out due to hurting rather than forcing yourself to go on. I hope writing here is cathartic & that you find ways to heal. Mostly, I'm sorry you feel disconnected from the ultra scene & its support -- people do care about you! Even virtually or remotely as I'm expressing now. Take care and keep writing.