Last post I had just started training regularly again. I'm now three weeks in so the good news is that I've been able to keep going. It's proving really tough though and I've had to accept that for now at least, I have to do less than I want.
I'm more sore and tired than I remember being in the past, and recovery is slower. In theory I should be finding things easier because of all the disruption from bank holidays and strikes, but those days haven't been particularly restful. Planning and organising trade union members and picket lines is hard work and requires a big emotional investment too, although I don't begrudge any of my time and efforts for that cause.
Since covid, my appetite has been weird and I'm often struggling to eat enough. I was used to eating three meals and one or two snacks but at the moment meals are tricky as I seldom feel hungry enough, but going for the little and often approach makes it hard to eat the right things for health and recovery. I know if I don't get enough calories then I won't be able to rebuild muscle and see the benefits of my training. Hopefully once I feel more settled with training this will kickstart my desire to eat properly again.
In terms of possible Long Covid, nothing can happen until 3 months post-infection. I don't even know if that is what's underneath it all. Compared to many others, what I'm experiencing is very mild- after all I'm able to run a bit and lift a bit. But my brain isn't working properly and most days I'm in bed very early because I just don't have the energy to keep going. I think that a large factor is also all the stuff going on in my head. That amount of emotional hurt and turmoil and all the various things going on in my life are going to take their toll physically and mentally; many of the symptoms I'm dealing with could easily be a physical manifestation of the stuff in my head. Or maybe I'm just wearing out and getting old- maybe my body just can't take all the crap any more.
On top of this, my mum's health has taken another big dip and so the long drives to my parents have resumed as my dad needs some respite. I'm not sure how we're going to manage things as the days and weeks go on- I have so many responsibilities pulling me in too many different directions but doing only what I feel like isn't an option. Something interesting that I noticed on my last visit is that despite the hilly terrain, when I run there it feels good. It feels easy, almost effortless. Is it the clean air? Is it the fact that there are no memories in those lanes and fields? The hedgerows are filled only with beauty- there are no ghosts or whispers of past conversations.
Grief comes in waves and sometimes the waters are relatively calm. Other days the storms mean I can't keep my head above water. But at last I've properly owned up to that- said it out loud to someone who matters to me and that has helped. They understand even if it's not easy for them. It's this chink of light that is keeping me going. The little glimmer that someone cares enough to stand with me, that there is still a life to be lived.
