On Running

In the months after my MS diagnosis, riddled with the WebMD-derived fear of a wholly dependent, disabled future, I ran. A lot. I embarked on the occasional treadmill jog while in college, but the happenstance act became habit during the year prior when working in Northern California. Good weather and low altitude made for much more conducive jogging conditions than the bitter wind present at Laramie, Wyoming’s 7, 220’ elevation. Upon returning home, I casually continued the practice for 6 months prior to my inaugural MRI scan, highlighting multiple brain and spinal cord lesions in all of their flaring aggression. But once the internet doctors of the world wide web alerted me to the possible loss of mobility as a result of the disease, I laced up my sneakers regularly in a defiant show of denial. 

Later that spring, during the local Walk MS awareness fundraiser, I opted to run the 5k rather than walking with my supportive team of family and friends. I had something to prove. MS was not going to get the best of me. MS was not going to take my life from me. In all actuality, the narrative I was willing myself to believe was that MS was not happening to me at all. Reality delivered a harsh awakening a number of weeks later when, during a musical performance of an intensive song and dance number, I realized that I could no longer feel my feet. After four and a half blissful months of normal sensation, the neurologic inflammation returned and forced me to accept the truth of the matter.

The next five months were rough. Within that time frame, I incurred more than a handful of compounding relapses, each increasing in severity, and each combated with mounting intensity and hospitalization. Altered physical sensations escalated to loss of strength, of cognitive function, and, ultimately, of mobility. Each relapse ruthlessly chipped away at my capabilities. In between hospital stays, I visited physical and occupational therapists, learning first how to write with my left hand, then reminding my right leg how to walk and my left arm how to move, then inverting the process to retrain the functioning of the left leg and right arm. By the end of the year, I was fully bedridden, all four limbs weak and unresponsive. Forget about running, I couldn’t even stand without medical supervision.

It took nearly eleven months to find the right treatment that would adequately manage my disease activity. As the relapses abated and my physical therapy sessions carried on sans relapse-derived interruptions and regression, I graduated from bedrest to wheelchair to walker to cane, until I finally was ambulatory and independent once again. Hope snuck its way into the periphery of my thoughts and I decided to implement a training program that would get me back into the practice of running. The first time I ran a full mile after that debilitating medical trauma, I experienced much more than the oft-lauded “runner’s high” - this was empowerment. It was agency. I never wanted it to leave me again.

Unfortunately, that’s not quite how Multiple Sclerosis works - although it would take numerous years until the fateful day that delivered another relapse. Until then, I relished in my regular outings on the riverside recreational path, the miles stretching as my pacing improved. One mile became three, then five, then seven, ten, thirteen. I began to daydream about participating in marathons. The Covid-19 pandemic struck and I no longer socialized in person with anyone aside from my family, but I kept up the practice of running outdoors until the winter of 2021 when a long-forgotten weakness returned, replete with lagging foot drop and hiccuped gait.

My neurologist swept into action and the relapse abated, but it took the 26-mile aspirations with it. I was able to return to a semi-regular practice of 5Ks, but a 7K was a rare occurrence, and I only managed one or two half-marathons after that 2021 flare up. Later that autumn, I contracted Covid-19 for the first time. Then again three months after that. And once more six months after that. My compromised immune system struggled to take to the vaccine and monoclonal antibodies, so each bout of coronavirus knocked me down a peg (or ten). By 2022, my stamina for running was significantly diminished. By 2023, I was hardly running at all. Then, about a year ago, another relapse hit, once again stifling my endurance.

I no longer run. Just walking a handful of blocks has the ability to drain my battery for the rest of the day (and, often, the following day as well). I know that fitness is important for brain health, that - counter to former misconceptions about the disease - exercise is actually helpful in fighting MS activity. I know that the brain is a magnificent organ, that it holds great capacity for neuroplasticity. I even know that adding in only three ten-minute walks per day will yield positive results. I just need to do it. There is a chance that I may never run again, but that is no reason to count myself out of the race.