green_the_fish
01-15-2007, 01:28 PM
Well, I've been going to the gym for a year now. I usually made it once a week, although there were a few times where I was busy or had other plans, so I would probably average out my time there to three times a month. Doesn't sound like a lot, but it has definetely made a difference. Yesterday, I ran my 15 minutes on the treadmill, then did my regular workout routine, and then went back to the treadmill. I realized that I wasn't tired at all, so I decided to see if I could run 25 minutes on the treadmill. And, to my surprise, I did it!
See, about a year ago, when my mom and I started going to the gym, we got tired really easily. I remember our first time, we did 10 minutes of brisk walking, a 30 hour workout, and then 10 more minutes of brisk walking. Let me tell you, we were exhausted! My bladder hurt, but I knew that I had to work through it if I wanted to get into better shape. So, very gradually, things started to get easier. I moved my time up to 15 minutes, and started increasing my speed. It left me pretty tired, but I wanted to get better. Me and my mom always went together. The gym we go to has a daycare, and my six year old sister loves it there, so it was convinient for us.
I guess I didn't really notice we were making progress until yesterday, though. If you would have told me two years ago that I would have been able to run 25 minutes straight, I would have thought you were on crack. I was in so much pain then that even going to school daily was a struggle. My boyfriend (at the time) and I went to Homecoming in a limo with our friends that year, all ready to have a good time. But halfway through the dance, I curled up by the wall and cried. Dancing hurt way too much.
Gym class was the hardest part of my day then. I remember that one time I was trying to run a lap when my bladder started to hurt a lot. I clenched it with my hand and practically limped over the gym teacher, asking to please be allowed to sit out. I was given a break that day, but I was already so embarrased that I cried. My uro could have written a note explaining that my interstitial cystitis makes it hard to do the things we were expected to do, but he wouldn't even tell me I had IC back then, much less put it on paper for all to witness.
I remember there was a girl in my class who had a broken arm. When she couldn't do something that we were doing in class, everyone was super nice about it. When I couldn't do something, it was because I was lazy. When it was really obvious that I was in pain, I would be allowed to sit out. Generally, though, my gym teacher hadn't heard of IC, and didn't really see what my bladder would have to do with me not being able to run or do active sports. Of course, there was no need to try to help me or make me feel more included, because I had a broken bladder and not a broken arm. I guess people assumed I was some little princess who thought she was too good to run around and get sweaty with the rest of them. I did have some friends in there, but many people just didn't seem to believe that I had a disability. They couldn't see it, so it was probably an excuse. When I didn't get picked for a team, and the teacher ended up assigning me to one, girls would cross their arms and sigh. No one would have done this if I had leg braces, but I didn't, so it was acceptable.
After a while, I just stopped trying. I did the bare minimum so I could get one year's credit. Trying hard wasn't worth it. There were times when I couldn't even manage that, though. The first few days I was on Elavil, I could barely drag my feet from class to class. I guess I looked as bad as I felt, because the teacher gave me a break and let me sit on the bleachers.The rest of the time, I just did what I had to do.
So, you can see how it was back then. I was in constant, severe pain, and physical activity made it even worse. I didn't think it would ever get better, but very slowly, over a span of many months, it did. I was still scared to work out, though. The pain was just starting to decrease, and I sure didn't want it to come back. It wasn't until a full year later that I agreed to start going to gym with my mom... and only because she insisted. I was afraid, but I think another part of me wanted to prove everyone wrong. At this point, my symptoms were usually low-level, so I didn't mind the temporary increase in pain that came with exertion.
I kept at it, not expecting much. And then, yesterday... I did it! I ran for 25 minutes straight! It was an emotional moment for me. There you have it; I'm not lazy. And, you know what? I overcame a lot to get to where I am. I know other people can still run faster and jump higher, but I had to fight to get to where I am, so I'm proud of myself.
See, about a year ago, when my mom and I started going to the gym, we got tired really easily. I remember our first time, we did 10 minutes of brisk walking, a 30 hour workout, and then 10 more minutes of brisk walking. Let me tell you, we were exhausted! My bladder hurt, but I knew that I had to work through it if I wanted to get into better shape. So, very gradually, things started to get easier. I moved my time up to 15 minutes, and started increasing my speed. It left me pretty tired, but I wanted to get better. Me and my mom always went together. The gym we go to has a daycare, and my six year old sister loves it there, so it was convinient for us.
I guess I didn't really notice we were making progress until yesterday, though. If you would have told me two years ago that I would have been able to run 25 minutes straight, I would have thought you were on crack. I was in so much pain then that even going to school daily was a struggle. My boyfriend (at the time) and I went to Homecoming in a limo with our friends that year, all ready to have a good time. But halfway through the dance, I curled up by the wall and cried. Dancing hurt way too much.
Gym class was the hardest part of my day then. I remember that one time I was trying to run a lap when my bladder started to hurt a lot. I clenched it with my hand and practically limped over the gym teacher, asking to please be allowed to sit out. I was given a break that day, but I was already so embarrased that I cried. My uro could have written a note explaining that my interstitial cystitis makes it hard to do the things we were expected to do, but he wouldn't even tell me I had IC back then, much less put it on paper for all to witness.
I remember there was a girl in my class who had a broken arm. When she couldn't do something that we were doing in class, everyone was super nice about it. When I couldn't do something, it was because I was lazy. When it was really obvious that I was in pain, I would be allowed to sit out. Generally, though, my gym teacher hadn't heard of IC, and didn't really see what my bladder would have to do with me not being able to run or do active sports. Of course, there was no need to try to help me or make me feel more included, because I had a broken bladder and not a broken arm. I guess people assumed I was some little princess who thought she was too good to run around and get sweaty with the rest of them. I did have some friends in there, but many people just didn't seem to believe that I had a disability. They couldn't see it, so it was probably an excuse. When I didn't get picked for a team, and the teacher ended up assigning me to one, girls would cross their arms and sigh. No one would have done this if I had leg braces, but I didn't, so it was acceptable.
After a while, I just stopped trying. I did the bare minimum so I could get one year's credit. Trying hard wasn't worth it. There were times when I couldn't even manage that, though. The first few days I was on Elavil, I could barely drag my feet from class to class. I guess I looked as bad as I felt, because the teacher gave me a break and let me sit on the bleachers.The rest of the time, I just did what I had to do.
So, you can see how it was back then. I was in constant, severe pain, and physical activity made it even worse. I didn't think it would ever get better, but very slowly, over a span of many months, it did. I was still scared to work out, though. The pain was just starting to decrease, and I sure didn't want it to come back. It wasn't until a full year later that I agreed to start going to gym with my mom... and only because she insisted. I was afraid, but I think another part of me wanted to prove everyone wrong. At this point, my symptoms were usually low-level, so I didn't mind the temporary increase in pain that came with exertion.
I kept at it, not expecting much. And then, yesterday... I did it! I ran for 25 minutes straight! It was an emotional moment for me. There you have it; I'm not lazy. And, you know what? I overcame a lot to get to where I am. I know other people can still run faster and jump higher, but I had to fight to get to where I am, so I'm proud of myself.