Since I’ve been on hiatus for quite a while, I figured I might as well come back with a bang. There’s been something rolling around in my head that I’ve been trying to find words to explain. Something that comes along with blogging, with being open, gosh, with just being human.
Writing this blog, and reading other blogs, has done some amazing things for me. I have developed some wonderful friendships and gotten some incredible experiences. It also led to self-discovery and some feelings of inadequacy. Some I never even expected.
Comparing myself to other runners is something I dealt with when I began my running journey. Look, I’m not fast. I’m probably never going to be fast. At this point, I’m okay with that. I’m slow, but I’ve also covered 26.2 miles on foot. Multiple times. Yeah! I love running. I love my fastest runs and I love my slowest runs.
Even still, sometimes I’d get a little pang of jealousy as I watched my favorite blogger friends shave minutes off their mile times. I have to remind myself that they are also putting in work that I don’t really care to do, and that their running journey can be different than mine. That’s okay.
The weirdest thing that came from blogging, is that for a while I felt incredibly guilty for not being sick enough.
Ask me about my Crohn’s. But it’s not as bad as her Crohn’s, or his ulcerative colitis, or…
Weird, right? If you’ve never dealt with chronic illness you probably think I’m crazy. But as I read blog post after blog post and article after article about people who have really suffered because of their IBD, I began to feel like my experience didn’t matter in comparison. I felt like maybe my stories didn’t matter because I’ve never had surgery and my disease is kept in remission with some pretty basic medication most of the time.