For those of us with chronic illness, the unprecedented outbreak of the coronavirus presents a challenge with an extra layer of fear and concern. My white blood cell count is already low. I’ve been in relative social isolation for two months, way before I knew anything about COVID-19 (coronavirus). Having something new to fear is ramping up both my anxiety and my fear. Neither of those are good for general wellbeing, especially in someone who’s already chronically ill.
Strategies for Sanity for People with Chronic Illness During the Coronavirus Outbreak
I’ve come up with a short list of things that are essential for me during this time of uncertainty and fear. The spread of the coronavirus and the panic that comes along with it is making life difficult for everyone. I hope this list helps you have a better day.
Go outside, especially when you feel extra anxious. Fresh air (away from other people) is a game-changer.
Breathe deeply. This is obvious, but it’s something I forget almost constantly. When I fear extremely worried, I tend to take shallow breaths. Stopping to focus on taking a few deep, slow breaths really does make a positive difference.
Read. Find books that are totally unrelated to current events and news. I read too much news, but at night, I only allow myself to read non-news items. I’m currently reading the entire 1930s Nancy Drew series.
Document your symptoms and include a few sentences about why you think certain things are better or worse. Documentation is valuable for you as a patient and for any caregiver who may need to know what’s going on with you. Medication, food, hydration, and/or supplements can then be adjusted accordingly to help you live a better life.
Drop any social media that’s causing you to feel bad or inflame existing negativity. I don’t get much good from Facebook nowadays, but Instagram is inspirational and socially connective.
Full disclosure: I’m a member of the 2020 Altra Red Team and purchased these shoes using a team discount.
I can’t overstate how excited I was to see the impending release of the Altra Viho. As a longtime Altra Intuition devotee, the Viho looked like it would perfectly fit the hole in my heart left by the demise of the Intuition (ok, maybe an exaggeration, but I really loved the Intuition).
I ordered the Viho as soon as it went live on Altra’s website. I chose Ice Flow Blue but would’ve been happy with any of the colors. The other options were Deep Teal and Purple. I haven’t had light-colored running shoes in a while, so I opted for change. My new Vihos arrived yesterday, and as soon as I opened the box, I was happy with my choice.
I prefer to focus on fit and function when I talk about how shoes fit me, but specs are important, so here you go. Altra posted these details about the Viho: stack height, 26 mm; midsole, InnerFlex™; outsole, Rubber FootPod™; weight, 7.4 ounces; and upper, Multi-Directional Mesh. And, of course, they’re on Altra’s hallmark zero-drop, balanced-cushioning platform, meaning the heel and forefoot remain level within the shoe. They’re listed at $100, making them more affordable than most quality running shoes.
Sizing and Fit
I’m consistently a size 9 in women’s Altra shoes, with a few random exceptions over the years. One pair of Superiors fit me in 9.5 several years ago, and the latest Torin was best in 8.5. Otherwise, I’ve always been a 9. The Viho fits me best in a size 9. I pulled the insole out of my old Intuitions and compared it to the Viho insole and the size 9s are almost identical in width and length.
The upper is stiffer than the last (final) version of the Intuition, and it felt a little too snug at first. However, after walking through my house for a few minutes, the upper began to feel more forgiving and comfortable. I have a pair of miserable tailor’s bunions from a lifetime of stuffing my feet into soccer cleats, so I’m very sensitive to shoes if the forefoot is narrow. I was concerned about the Viho at first, but after my short stroll around the house, the upper felt like it softened up and made room for my bones.
As with all Altras, the overall footprint of the shoe matches much more closely to an actual foot than most shoes do. The toebox allows my feet to function more naturally than they can in tapered, pointed-toe shoes. I stand most of the day at work in a chiropractic/PT clinic. Not only do I feel the positive effects of foot-shaped shoes on my own feet, but I see the ramifications of ill-fitting shoes in my patients. No shoe or brand is right for every foot, but I’m a big believer in Altra. The Viho is definitely one of my new favorites. And, yes, it seems quite similar to an updated version of my beloved Intuition.
The Altra Viho on the Road
The storms finally stopped the day after my new Vihos arrived, so I took them for a jaunt around the park near my house. It was almost 70 degrees in the morning (ugh, in freakin’ February), and the upper on the Viho allowed my feet to breathe as much as feet can in heat plus 100% humidity. They provided a springy but not mushy feel underfoot. The rubber outsole felt secure on damp roads and damp grass.
As with any new pair of shoes, it took me a few minutes to get used to them, but once I did, I was in love. The laces are tubular shaped and stayed tied (I always double-knot for safety). The heel is padded but not overly structured, and the tongue is fairly thickly padded. I adjusted the laces a few times during my first outing, as I do with all new shoes. Once I got the fit just right, I didn’t want to take off the Viho.
I can’t speak to durability since I just got the Viho, but the rubber outsole looks substantial and the upper seems solidly made. I could imagine the heel breaking down a bit if you get into the habit of cramming your foot in without thoroughly unlacing, so if you’re prone to that, maybe budget an extra couple seconds to loosen the laces and slide your foot instead of shoving it. (If you’re a shover, I know you– I, too, used to break down the heels of shoes by convincing myself I was saving time by not really loosening my shoes enough. Stop. I promise it’s worth it, and it’s better for your feet, anyway.)
I get a lot more miles out of my running shoes than most runners, in part because I run mostly on grass and dirt instead of concrete and asphalt. I’ll update this review after I get substantial mileage on the Viho.
The Viho is a win for Altra in my book. It’s not overly cushioned and also not minimal, and will likely appeal to people who like neutral, versatile running shoes. Even though it’s a completely different shoe, I view it as a solid replacement for the Intuition. If the snugness of the upper is an issue for some women, it’d be worth trying on the men’s Viho to see if it provides a little extra room. As for me, I’m sticking with the women’s and I’m very happy with my new shoes.
Lyme disease sucks. One of the most frustrating things about Lyme disease in general, and perhaps more so for runners, is the conflicting advice offered by everyone from MDs to herbalists to bloggers. If you’re running with Lyme disease, get ready for an onslaught of “STOP IT RIGHT NOW” from the peanut gallery, combined with other, softer voices that tell you to continue to do what you love. I’ve only been diagnosed with Lyme disease for a couple months, and I’ve already heard more advice (welcome and unwelcome) than I can manage.
All I can speak of is my personal experience. One of my worst, strongest symptoms of Lyme disease is cognitive deficiency. On days when I was able (as in, not exhausted or in too much pain), running literally saved my life. Running became my only outlet for relief. The increased circulation, the endorphins, the outdoor air– I’m sure all these things and more contributed to my improved ability to think on the days I ran. Unfortunately, like many people running with Lyme disease, I hit a point where my physical symptoms became too severe to allow me to run. Reduced mileage wasn’t enough.
Taking a Break from Running
I’m currently in the midst of a break from running. It sucks. A lot. But the muscle spasms in my legs– and I mean every damn muscle from ankle to hip– became so severe that I would wake up in the middle of the night unable to stand up. The pain was incredible. Because the lateral thigh muscles spasmed the hardest, my kneecaps began to track laterally and grind against my femurs. I’m not exaggerating when I say the leg pain became some of the worst, possibly the worst pain I’ve ever felt in my life. There was no way I could run anymore when I couldn’t even walk.
As my legs got worse, I increased my chiropractic treatment frequency, my foam-rolling time, and my stretching routine. Nothing helped. Not magnesium supplements, not a super-clean diet, not topical creams, not ice, not heat. You name it, I tried it. My coworker is a highly experienced massage therapist and referred me to an acupuncturist. I was doubtful, not of acupuncture in general, but of anything helping me. Lyme disease also dishes out a hearty dose of depression and anxiety along with cognitive disfunction, so my cynicism was at an all-time high. I made an acupuncture appointment with little hope for anything more than another pile of confusing advice.
During the initial evaluation, the acupuncturist told me she wasn’t going to target Lyme disease, but rather would target other problems to help with overall health. Her approach made sense to me, and she immediately noted a major deficit in my circulation. I had no doubt she was right, since I’d been spasming so much and my hands and feet are always ice-cold. She told me that, at least for a while, running with Lyme disease should not be on my agenda. I’m not a crier, but I came close to sobbing in front of her. Running was my last grasp on sanity, or at least it felt that way at the time.
I made a deal with her to stop running for a week (not that hard, in some ways, since my leg spasms were so severe). She wanted more time, but I only agreed to stop for a week. She explained that acupuncture, like most natural medicine that works with the body, takes time. I was essentially undoing her work if I kept depleting myself by running while in such poor health. I protested a bit more but eventually agreed to work with her twice per week. There was nothing to lose besides a little time and a lot of money. (The money is for a different post, but as anyone with chronic pain or chronic disease knows, it ain’t cheap to survive, let alone thrive.)
Fast forward to three acupuncture treatments later, and I’m doing better. It’s not just acupuncture– I take more supplements than most people will in a lifetime, wear compression garments, and use epsom salts– but I really feel a difference. It’s not fast, definitely not immediate, but something good is happening. My hands aren’t so cold, and my feet are a little less cold. My spasms decreased to the point that last night, for the first time in weeks, I didn’t wake up in agony or use compression garments in the middle of the night.
Of course my goals are to get extremely healthy, feel great, and beat Lyme disease. At this point, though, I want to get back to running. The reality is, I have to stop for a while so I can start again one day soon. I was well enough yesterday to slowly hike for a couple hours at the national seashore near my house, and that’s a major victory. I want so badly to run again, but I’ve had so many setbacks over the past decade that I’m trying to look at this as just one more temporary speed bump.
My next appointment with the acupuncturist is tomorrow and I actually look forward to it. It’s working, and that’s what matters. Anyway, if you’d like more info on herbal aids for the fight with Lyme, I’ve gotten a ton of help from Stephen Buhner’s book, and his website is archived at this link: Buhner Healing Lyme.
I’m sure I’ll run again, and probably sooner than later. Lyme disease is rarely completely curable unless caught immediately, so “running with Lyme disease” is pretty much my new reality. Running with herniated discs, running with dystonia, and running with fibromyalgia have all been my reality, so here’s another one for the list. I’ll get back out there, just not tomorrow. In the meantime, I’m going to walk, hike, and do as much as I can to stay strong and relatively healthy. It’s pretty cool to say I have a good acupuncturist on my side now. I’m cautiously hopeful and wildly dreaming of running again.
I write about serious health stuff a lot, but I also love to talk about lighthearted and upbeat topics. Life’s about balance, right? So, along with my very serious Lyme disease post, I’m also finishing 2019 by writing a quick highlight of three of my favorite pieces of running gear that I acquired this year.
I was ridiculously devastated when Altra decided to discontinue their Intuition, but their new Kayenta helped dry my tears. They’re different from any shoes I’ve ever worn, but once I got over the novelty, I fell in love. They’re lightweight, flexible, (zero-drop like all Altras), and shaped like my feet. I like the colors, too.
I spent 2019 as a first-year ambassador for Team Headsweats, and it was such a cool experience. Not only did I get to connect with other outdoors-loving athletes, but I also got some really awesome gear from Headsweats. It’s hard to pick my favorite, but their Bigfoot collection wins in my book. I usually run in their high-visibility race hats and hike in the Bigfoot trucker. All of them are comfortable, have a black underside to the brim, and help keep sweat and sun out of my eyes.
AfterShokz Titanium Mini
Many years ago, I ran with a tiny iPod shuffle and conventional headphones. After almost getting hit by a car– like, really almost getting hit– I never wore headphones outdoors again. I ran the wire up my abdomen and stuck the earbuds in my bra. Turning the volume all the way up basically turned them into tiny, horrible-quality speakers, and I sometimes got little raw circles on my chest from where the headphones rubbed. And then (cue the movie music for the big reveal) I read about AfterShokz, a company that produces open-ear, bone-conduction headphones for athletes. They’re life-changing. This photo is of them in action, not bouncing, rubbing, or making me deaf while I run across an intersection. The sound quality is excellent, although I refuse to admit to some of the bizarre and embarrassing stuff that’s on my playlist.
Did you get any new favorite running gear this year? If so, I’d love to hear about it. And here’s to the new year!
I don’t think there’s such a thing as a 100% bad year, but 2019 came pretty close. Even as I type that, it doesn’t feel true. There were some absolutely awesome moments, from traveling for book tour events to hiking in gorgeous places to running past a bear in a tree. But overall, my health was terrible this year. Scary terrible. I finally got a definitive diagnosis, and it wasn’t good news: chronic Lyme disease.
In the past, the various diagnoses– cervical dystonia, fibromyalgia, relapsing-remitting multiple sclerosis, and the list goes on– ate away at my body and my mental health. Until this year, nothing attacked my cognition, and I can easily say that losing my ability to think clearly– to reason, to comprehend, to remember simple things– is the most terrifying problem I’ve ever had. The week of Thanksgiving, I finally got some clarity in the form of a doctor who spent nearly two hours with me, one-on-one, without interruption. From passing out in the hall in the middle of the night to getting lost in my own neighborhood to crushing headaches to constant exhaustion and a million other awful symptoms, the answer, for him, was simple. Lyme disease. Chronic Lyme disease, to be exact.
I was too sick for a while to fully comprehend anything, let alone a breakthrough diagnosis. I spent my days trying to make it through work at a job that I’ve done for almost nine years with previous relative ease. I spent my weeks wondering when bloodwork would come back (so. much. bloodwork.), and I spent my nights exhausted but unable to sleep. A depression that I can only describe as a feeling of being possessed took over. Migraine-like headaches left me even more exhausted.
Mast Cell Dysfunction
The first problem the doctor began to work on, almost immediately after our initial few minutes of discussion, was what he said is secondary mast cell dysfunction. I’d never heard of that before, and had no idea it could go hand-in-hand with chronic Lyme disease. I hadn’t even made much of a big deal about the symptoms, since they seemed so inconsequential compared to the other debilitating problems that I had. But when I described sneezing, coughing, gasping, and getting congested after every meal, the doctor paid close attention.
I showed him two videos (chronic pain patients know we need proof because practitioners often doubt what they can’t see) of me literally ingesting nothing but water and going into a massive sneezing fit. He diagnosed mast cell dysfunction and told me to immediately start taking Zyrtec every morning. I’m not a fan of Western medicine unless it’s absolutely necessary. I’ve been burned by side effects many times, but I reluctantly bought some store-brand Zyrtec and popped one before breakfast the next morning. No coughing, no sneezing, and barely a sniffle after I ate. It was just short of miraculous.
The Lyme disease diagnosis was not so simple to handle. I’m learning more than I ever thought there was to know about Lyme disease, especially chronic Lyme disease. There’s a big chunk of practitioners who, for various reasons, fight about it, but I’d rather not go into that much. People will always have big opinions and big mouths, but I prefer to only listen to and respect the ones who deserve it. Dr. Richard Horowitz does a great job of explaining all this, if you’re interested. Look up his book called Why Can’t I Get Better for details. The main thing I know is, I’ve been very, very sick for a long time and now I finally know why.
I’m scared. I’m scared for my present and for my future. I wonder if I’ll ever get full cognitive function back, and the idea that I won’t is haunting. I have a binder dedicated to symptom tracking and Lyme disease information, and I’m beginning to solely focus (as much as possible) on majorly reducing my symptoms. There isn’t a cure, and I’m so NOT ok with that that I’m considering going back to school to become a researcher who works for a cure. In the meantime, I’m starting an herbal regimen (Stephen Buhner’s chronic Lyme disease protocol) and managing minute-to-minute fluctuations in energy, mood, and cognition.
After about a week on some high-quality, Lyme disease-targeting herbs, my energy level increased and I was able to start running again. That was a godsend. Running has long been my sanity-keeper, and the fresh air and trees are the best medicine for everything. I’m already a medical marijuana patient, so I have access to MMJ for sleep, but I also added CBD oil to my regimen. Lyme disease, once it spreads and becomes chronic, can cause an awful condition called Lyme arthritis, so I’m also starting on powdered gelatin. I made Golden Milk for the first time yesterday and am tightening up my diet more than ever. If you haven’t tried Golden Milk, I highly recommend Googling a recipe for it. It’s a warm concoction of anti-inflammatory foods, and while the turmeric can be a little potent for some people, I thought it tasted pretty good.
I started out reading everything and anything I could about chronic Lyme disease. I read studies that showed things like oregano oil and stevia work well to fight the bacteria, and other studies that showed garlic can be helpful. I read and read until knowledge-gathering become too much of an obsession, so now I’m alternating reading Lyme disease-related stuff with fun magazines and running books. Knowledge is power, but it can be oppressive, too.
I go back to the doctor in a few days and we’ll make a plan on how to go forward from here. I don’t know if he’ll want me to start strong, long-term antibiotics or not, and I’m not sure how I feel about that. I’ve talked to so many people who’ve had poor results from antibiotics and/or who had only very short-term success. But I’m sure they work great for some Lyme disease cases, and ultimately I have to decide what’s best for me, not for others.
I’m still spinning from the diagnosis and the fallout– I lived for YEARS with relapsing-remitting MS, except now I know that wasn’t true, and it’s freakin’ bizarre. I have a lot, lot more to say about chronic Lyme disease and how it’s affecting my life, my running, my work, but the brain fog is awful and it makes gathering thoughts quite challenging. For now, I’ll leave you with two of my favorite (so far) resources for chronic Lyme disease patients.
Lyme Disease Books
Stephen Buhner, an herbalist, has done extensive research on Lyme disease. You can buy his books on Amazon and learn a lot from his website. I bought Healing Lyme, and it’s a wonderfully informative, well-researched book. I would LOVE to meet Stephen but I recognize that this is a pipe dream of epic proportions.
Richard Horowitz is a doctor who’s worked extensively with Lyme disease patients. I bought his book Why Can’t I Get Better, and it’s a solid resource for a mixture of Western medicine, anecdotal evidence, real-life examples, and Eastern practices. He seems like the type of compassionate, thorough doctor that most of us would hope and pray would treat us.
It’s not quite Thursday yet, but here’s my TBT to some awesome hiking and trail running this summer. I can’t wait until my iron deficiency clears up and I can hit the trails again! My new Altra Lone Peaks were barely broken in before my ferritin level dropped so low that I couldn’t run, and every time I see them in the closet, they look sad and ready to go. I can definitely relate!
It’s finally cooling down a little here in FL, which means prime trail running weather is almost here. The Florida Trail, which essentially runs from Pensacola Beach to the Everglades, is a great, diverse trail system. My favorite sections to run are through Blackwater State Forest and through the Gulf Islands National Seashore/Ft. Pickens property. I hope I’m well enough to run before November, but if I have to wait, so be it. My Lone Peaks and I will grit our teeth and wait. I’ve been through a lot this year, but I’ve never lost sight of my goals, hopes, and dreams. Onward, friends.
I felt bad for months without answers and had no idea that low ferritin could be the culprit. The first sign or symptom, I think, was when my feet suddenly hurt so bad that I couldn’t walk. I went from comfortably running 12+ miles at a time to being unable to take a single step. The pain in my feet was incredible. A five-week saga involved complete rest, new shoes, custom arch supports, and tons of medical treatments that didn’t work. Then a young chiropractor finally got to what seemed to be the root of the problem.
Near the knee, the sciatic nerve splits into two and becomes the common peroneal nerve and the tibial nerve. Extremely tight calf muscles were compressing the nerves, which in turn sent agony to my feet. The chiropractor used e-stim, heat, and RockBlades on my calves, then adjusted the bones in my ankles. The difference was immediate and shocking and wonderful. I went from no life to an almost normal one, or so it seemed.
But as time passed, my calves stayed tight no matter what, so my feet still hurt almost all day and night. I drank extra water, used a foam roller, a stick roller, and had my colleagues RockBlade my legs, but the pain and tightness always came back quickly. I knew something still wasn’t right, but I was so damn tired of going to doctors and spending time and money that I just decided I might have to manage my calf issues indefinitely without a real answer.
Decreased Exercise Tolerance
That was late spring. As I made my comeback to running and strength training, I never felt right. I was sweating profusely after even short, early-morning runs, my endurance stopped progressing, and I began to feel dead tired after any exercise at all. After so many years of chronic health problems, I wondered if what was happening was a natural progression of the disease process. I also started noticing that I had increasing trouble concentrating, felt exhausted most days, and my usual insomnia was worse than ever.
Things really took a turn for the worse when I drove through eight states to get to Baltimore for a few days of work. What should’ve been a fun, exciting solo trip that involved camping, a super nice hotel, old friends, new friends, and tons of adventure was downright terrifying. The four nights I was in the hotel in Baltimore, I honestly thought I was going to die. I couldn’t sleep at all despite being beyond exhausted. The mental fog was incredible and like nothing I’d ever felt. When I laid down at night, I was so tired and sick that I would tremble hard enough to lift my body off the mattress. I began living on extra coffee and energy drinks and strained to keep up professionally and socially. I had no idea what was happening but was very afraid.
Urgent Care and Primary Doc
I thought I’d start feeling better after I got home, although the justification for that thought was pretty weak and didn’t pan out to be true at all. I continued to get worse and despite HATING going to medical facilities, I went to urgent care one night when I was so lightheaded and wracked with tremors that I thought I might be dying.
My blood pressure was 82/58, then suddenly shot up to 140/92. An EKG showed that my heart was in atrial fibrillation (AFib), and I almost passed out a few times in the exam room. The urgent care doctor wanted me to go to the emergency room, but I refused. After years of dealing with our medical/industrial complex, the last place I want to go is a hospital. I went home and made an appointment with my primary care doctor and crossed my fingers that I’d live long enough to get to the appointment.
I developed all kinds of theories about what was going on, from reactions to supplements to simply, “I’m dying.” My doctor ordered a huge battery of blood tests and said he suspected iron deficiency. He told me to start taking iron pills just in case, and that if the bloodwork results showed I wasn’t anemic, it wouldn’t be a big deal to have been on the pills for a week. I hadn’t eaten red meat in a long, long time and had unpredictable, heavy periods, so his theory seemed plausible. I agreed to the blood draw— my first bloodwork in more than two years (I wasn’t kidding when I say I hate going to medical facilities).
I began taking iron pills every morning and begrudgingly ate beef. I didn’t feel better at all and was too exhausted to run more than a couple miles at a slow pace and with frequent breaks. Eventually, I couldn’t run and could barely even function during day-to-day tasks. My thinking, concentration, and mood got so bad that I felt like I’d had part of my brain removed. Since the doctor ordered such a massive volume of tests, the bloodwork took more than a week to come back. When it finally did, several truths were revealed. I had extremely high testosterone, which could partially account for my months of extreme sweating. My progesterone was rock-bottom, which further signaled major trouble with hormones. My white blood cell count was low as though I were fighting a bad virus, which was unexpected and never fully understood.
And, perhaps most telling for my symptoms, my ferritin level was in the basement. (For those who aren’t sure what a ferritin level is, here’s what Mayo Clinic says about it: “Ferritin is a blood cell protein that contains iron. A ferritin test helps your doctor understand how much iron your body is storing. If a ferritin test reveals that your blood ferritin level is lower than normal, it indicates your body’s iron stores are low and you have iron deficiency.”) So, my doctor’s suspicion about iron-deficiency was well-founded, but there were also other issues to address.
My next doctor’s appointment was a few days after the bloodwork came back, but I saw the results online in my patient portal before the appointment. I understood pretty well what was happening but still had tons of questions. I spent a solid hour making a list (yes, an hour for a list, which is indicative of how bad my cognition got) of questions to ask him during the appointment. Every aspect of my life was affected. I was depressed beyond measure, stupid beyond reason, and exhausted to the point of near death. I hesitate to say I’ve never felt worse, but I think it’s true.
Treatment Plan for Low Ferritin
Based on the bloodwork, my doctor quadrupled my iron pills, added liquid vitamin B to my supplement regimen, and sent me to a compounding pharmacy for a custom concoction of progesterone cream. He also prescribed Tamiflu to knock back any viral infection I might have, and ordered me to stay out of the heat and to not overexert myself at all. His reasons for why my ferritin level was so low were speculative but seemed reasonable— heavy/frequent periods, heavy sweating, long-distance running, and lack of dietary meat. He said heme-iron, the kind that comes from animal products, is the most readily absorbed by the human body, and that at least for a while, I’d need to eat meat again.
We discussed an intravenous iron infusion to raise my low ferritin level. He didn’t want to risk me going to the hospital for the infusion with my health history and low white cell count. I struggled to take a deep breath, struggled to walk to my truck, struggled to concentrate. I knew there could be nasty side effects to taking four iron pills per day, but I also knew I couldn’t keep going on a fake-it-til-you-make-it mentality. The way I felt was affecting every aspect of my life. I’d called in sick a few days at work for the first time in years. I don’t have benefits, so calling in sick means losing significant money, which is pretty much the last thing a person needs when caught up in our broken, profit-mongering medical system.
I asked for a timeline for improvement. My doctor said he hoped I’d start to feel better at the two-week mark, but that the 4x daily iron pills might still take six months to restore me to a healthy ferritin level. Six freakin’ months? I tried to focus on his two weeks comment. Two weeks is a long damn time, but six months sounded like something I couldn’t handle. Running and hiking are my major stress relievers. To not be able to do those things during such a hard time was even more crushing. But I’d gotten to the point of feeling so out of it— totally disconnected from life— that I almost didn’t care.
I’m now on day fourteen of taking iron four times a day. I have no way of knowing if my low ferritin level is rising a little, rising a lot, or staying the same, but I feel different. My next blood draw won’t be for another month unless I get worse. I hope it shows a huge rise by that time. I hope I feel so good by then that I’ll almost forget what I’m fighting. At this point, I do NOT feel good and haven’t noticed nearly as much progress as I thought would happen by now.
The side effects of big doses of iron aren’t hitting me super hard, but my period came early and heavy and it’s possibly undoing a lot of the progress that I’d started to make. Heavy blood loss is one of the worst things for iron deficiency. My coworkers, patients, and family say I look better, and that there’s more color in my face than there had been for months. I’m not quite as stupid or exhausted as I was. The hot flashes are coming a little less often. I’m able to do light strength-training indoors with the AC blasting.
I still have zero heat tolerance, am foggy-brained, and very tired, but everything is a little better. One of the biggest changes is the pain in my feet and legs– it’s almost gone! But do I feel good yet? Definitely not. It’s amazing how long this process takes. Hopefully in a couple days, when my period is gone and I’m at the two-week mark on iron pills, I’ll really start to notice a difference. I miss running and hiking. I miss thinking clearly and I miss being sort of smart, but at least I finally see a tiny pinhole of light at the end of the tunnel. Y’all, don’t be like me. Get your routine bloodwork done and don’t try to hide how bad you feel. It can really suck to get caught up in the medical system, but avoiding it when something’s wrong is dumb. Don’t be me. Don’t be dumb.
This summer has been insanely hot, and the heatwave started way too soon. By the middle of May, most of us in the deep south were avoiding the outdoors after 10 a.m. if we could, not showing our faces outside until nearly sunset. It’s gotten worse, with “real feel” temps around 106 for our new normal. That’s not particularly healthy for anyone, but especially for those of us with underlying health conditions, excessive heat can be dangerous.
I first tried Greater Than Cool on a boiling-hot day in my parents’ backyard. Even in their pool, I couldn’t get comfortable and felt constantly fatigued. I love being outdoors (I should move out of Florida!) and didn’t want to go back inside while everyone else was outside. It seemed like a great opportunity to try Greater Than Cool.
Filling the Wrap with Ice
My parents have an icemaker, and after extracting a few perfectly uniform cubes—which excites me since we don’t have an icemaker and our cubes are randomly sized—I folded them into ice pockets in the Greater Than Cool wrap. The experience was vaguely reminiscent of making a burrito and was quite easy and user-friendly. My left hand was around 50% numb that day thanks to scoliosis and bad cervical spine discs, but I got the wrap full of ice and around my neck without much issue, which tells you it’s reasonably simple even for someone with less than ideal dexterity.
My neck is extremely sensitive to everything. Ever since I royally jacked it up while working in the back of an ambulance when I was an EMT, I’ve dealt with everything from cervical dystonia to herniated discs to hand numbness and, of course, chronic pain. I was a bit concerned about wearing the Greater Than Cool wrap around my neck, but the weight of it, even when full of ice, wasn’t symptom-provoking at all. My neck got damp when I put the ice straight in the wrap, but I didn’t care. I was already sweating anyway, and it’s not like the melting ice poured down or even dripped. It just made me a little damp. If you don’t like that, try using the small plastic bags to house the ice within the wrap.
The fastener is Velcro, so it’s easy to handle and adjust. According to the manufacturer, “the proprietary cotton polyester multi-layered material is engineered to absorb and distribute cool moisture evenly throughout the neck wrap.” The Greater Than Cool wrap is navy blue, so it looks nice enough with just about any outfit (although I’m looking forward to them considering a unicorn design, hint hint y’all!). You can put the ice directly in the wrap or in small plastic bags, or I guess if you wanted to, you could buy and use re-freezable packs. As of this post, the wrap costs $22.99 on Amazon, which isn’t a ton to pay if it allows you to live a more comfortable, full life outdoors.
Does It Work?
Yes! There’s science behind “central cooling,” which was a term I learned when training at a firehouse in the Florida summer. Since so many of us had overheating issues, our chief drilled the basics of central cooling into us. Essentially, he told us, putting icepacks over arteries is a great way to cool the human body. Greater Than Cool circles around the neck and comes into contact with a couple of major arteries, and I could really feel a difference in my whole-body comfort while wearing it.
The wrap is unlikely to help with major heat illness like heatstroke, but it might help you avoid getting that sick. I was able to stay in the backyard with my dogs and family while wearing the wrap, when otherwise I’d have been forced to go back inside. As my ice melted—which didn’t happen as quick as I thought it would—I simply went back inside for a minute and got new cubes. The wrap could work even if you’re not home, as long as you have access to a few ice cubes, like from a restaurant or a hotel or a convenience store. I filled up all the ice pockets, but if you just want to cool down a little, you can add less.
If you spend time in the heat and need a little help staying cool, definitely give Greater Than Cool a try. They’re a small, family-owned business born from the need to help loved ones participate more fully in life without overheating. They’ll unveil new options soon, like color choices and multiple sizes, but their basic product (blue, one size fits most) is great! Click here to check them out on Amazon.
Disclaimer: I received a Greater Than Cool wrap in exchange for an honest review. I’d tell you if it sucks, but it doesn’t! It’s a solid product and a good choice if you deal with heat intolerance.
My second Headsweats ambassador box arrived yesterday and I was super excited to find it on my front porch. Along with some other great gear, I got my first-ever Headsweats visor. I’ve worn Headsweats hats for years and loved them, but never bought a visor because I wasn’t sure if that style would work for me. I’ve had visors in the past that didn’t fit right no matter what I tried. They were usually too tight to the point of giving me a headache or so loose that they slipped down and folded my ears outward. I love the Bigfoot line of products that Headsweats produces. After cyber-stalking the full moon Bigfoot visor for a few months, I decided to give it a try.
Unboxing the Visor
The first thing I noticed about the visor was the awesome graphic on the front. It’s printed well and clearly and looks like something an artist created. No pixelated junk! Sometimes online photos don’t represent reality, but the Bigfoot visor looks even better in person than it does in pictures. The next thing I noticed was the lack of adjustability of the headband. I wasn’t sure if that would be ok or create headache city, so I wore the visor around the house before taking it for a test run. I couldn’t believe how comfortable it felt! It was secure and snug but not at all tight. The elastic band is very thin, wide, and flat, and pretty much becomes unnoticeable once it’s on my head. No headache, no slippage, no ear-bending. My ears are small and sit very close to my head, so the ear-bending struggle is real with a lot of hats and visors and even headphones.
Wearing the Visor
We’re already in the mid 80s in the first week of May and the sun has seemed brighter than ever this spring. I decided to put the visor through a nearly literal trial by fire on its maiden voyage. It was already 82 degrees when I left the house in the morning. The humidity was between 85% and 99%, depending on which app I looked at. Hot as hell and wet as a swamp. The sun was intense and beginning to rise high enough above the trees that shade would soon become scarce. I started to sweat within five minutes out the door, but the visor stayed exactly where it was mean to be. No slippage at all.
I didn’t wear sunglasses, so the all-black underside of the visor was especially helpful. If you’ve ever worn a hat or visor with a light-colored underside, you probably know how ineffective they are at blocking glare. I had a hat once with a light gray underside and I swear it reflected more sun into my face than if I hadn’t worn it at all. All Headsweats hats and visors have a black underside to minimize glare, and I really appreciated that feature this morning.
I’m rehabbing from a major health setback, so I only ran 2.75 miles, but I kept the visor on for a metcon workout in the sun and a 1.5-mile walk home from the park. Running, jumping, pullups, pushups—nothing made the visor slip, shift, or otherwise do something unpleasant. I even banged the brim on a pullup bar by accident and it held firm on my head and only needed a minor adjustment. By the time I walked home, I was in love with my new Bigfoot visor.
As an athlete in Florida, sweat in the eyes is a major problem. It burns pretty bad on its own, but add sunscreen to the mix and it can be temporarily blinding and very uncomfortable. Never once did I even get one drop in my eyes today. The soft, wicking headband underneath the Bigfoot design did its job perfectly. Having the top of my head open to the breeze (unlike with a hat) helped cool me down. I went into Headsweats visor ownership feeling a little unsure, but now I’m hooked. If you’re not a fan of Bigfoot (or if you are), they have a ton of designs, from neutral to loud. I definitely recommend getting one and will probably get another visor for myself soon. Let me know if you have questions and I’ll do my best to answer.
I’m an ambassador for Headsweats, which means I get some of their gear at no charge. This review is my honest opinion, but I did not pay for the visor. If you want to get one for yourself, you can use VICTORIASTOPP25 at checkout for a 25% discount. Click here to see the collection.
My feet are still not functional after a month of rest. I do, however, finally have more precise answers. The second specialist I saw diagnosed me with severe capsulitis, especially in the second metatarsophalangeal joint. Theories abound about how it happened. The main thing now is getting it fixed so I can first walk, then hike, then run again.
The pain of capsulitis is like nothing I’ve ever felt. Through all the years of spinal issues, chronic pain, and other health problems, nothing compares to capsulitis. My right foot is now the worst, although it started out opposite. Luckily, the pain is starting to localize a bit and is primarily focused on the joint capsule of the second metatarsophalangeal joint.
Through many sleep-deprived nights (I’m an insomniac anyway, but the nighttime pain in my feet has been unbearable), I’ve done a ton of research on capsulitis. There are a ton of theories out there, and as is often true with health-related information, a lot of the theories directly contradict each other. One example is in footwear. Many podiatric and orthopedic websites (and doctors) swear by a rocker sole for a shoe, while some decry traditional shoes as part of the problem. As with all things, it’s best for me if I gather information and opinions and then form my own plan.
Shoes for Capsulitis
Since I already run in zero-drop, wide-toebox shoes, I’m definitely a believer in natural foot motion and foot strength. I think it’s possible that my capsulitis developed from walking in more traditional footwear: i.e., the kind with toe spring and a major heel-toe height differential. For those who’re clueless like I was, “toe spring” is the amount of upward turn in the toe are of the shoe. If you think about it, that really is an unnatural, weird position for the human foot, which is meant to be flat on the ground when standing.
Debilitation of Foot Pain
The pain, swelling, and dysfunction in my feet go so bad that capsulitis landed me in a wheelchair. It was almost surreal to be pushed around the park in a wheelchair because of foot pain. The fresh air and change of scenery was great, but it was unbelievably frustrating to be in a chair for what seems like a ridiculous reason. The capsules that’re causing this misery are tiny, but holy crap are they sensitive.
Solutions for Capsulitis
One of my coworkers helped me tape custom-cut (courtesy of a wonderful podiatrist), firm felt metatarsal pads into the metatarsal arch area. By elevating and supporting the metatarsals, plus wearing flat, zero-drop shoes, some of the pressure is taken off the capsulitis. I’m able to hobble-walk with a borrowed rollator, which isn’t awesome, but it’s a hell of a lot better than being in a wheelchair due to foot pain.
I’ve been good about doing upper body and core workouts throughout this nightmare, but it’s demoralizing and depressing to be unable to walk, run, or hike. A major trip was postponed and I began to reach a scary level of depression and hopelessness. Throwing everything at capsulitis—ice baths, epsom salt baths, CBD oil, ibuprofen—and getting no results was crushing. My auto-immune specialist called in a prescription for a Medrol dose pack. Steroids aren’t necessarily standard treatment for capsulitis, but I was desperate and he was quite worried about the raging, long-lasting inflammation. I’m on day three of the steroids. They’ve made me a bit more emotional, they’re slowly helping clear up the agony of capsulitis.
One thing I’ve become conscious of is my toe position. It seems that for some time, I’ve been walking with my toes bundled together. I think I’ve been running that way, too, but I’m not sure. I have no idea why that’s happening, other than weak intrinsic foot muscles and tight extensors in my feet. I found a website with a wealth of information about all things feet, and I highly recommend checking it out if you’re suffering from capsulitis or any other foot malady. There are a ton of informative videos available for free, especially on common complaints such as plantar fasciitis. Click here to get to the the video library of all things foot-related.
The next phase of the plan to heal my capsulitis is more of the same for several more days—rest, elevation, gentle stretching of the extensors, and gentle foot mobility exercises. I’ve never been this sedentary in my whole life, but it’s necessary for now. The core and upper body exercises are keeping me a little bit sane. In a few days, I go back to my auto-immune specialist, and then back to the podiatrist. I’ll be done with steroids by then and really, really hope to feel good enough to declare capsulitis a thing of the past. For now, I’d be over the freakin’ moon if I could just take a few normal, pain-free steps. Capsulitis sucks big time and I never want to go through anything like this again.
It’s a long, long story, but my problem turned out to be coming from entrapped nerves in the calf musculature. After intense sessions with Graston technique (Rock Blades, scraping, and other names, all pretty much the same thing), my foot pain was drastically diminished. I now keep it away by obsessively rolling my calves with a foam roller, stretching my calves, and wearing calf compression sleeves. It seems it wasn’t ever a foot problem at all, despite multiple doctors saying it was. If you’re having issues with capsulitis or other foot maladies, it’s probably worth getting a good, deep calf massage and seeing if you get results!