This week one of my Timehop brought up something I posted 4 years ago;
"Loads of luck to Kerstin Pepper who is running the (London) marathon today. She is, frankly, fab!"
I can remember writing that, in awe that a "real" person could be involved in such an event. When you watch it on TV there's always the emphasis on the elites and celebrities, but even the rest of the people you watch with an assumption that they must be mega fit. It seems like worlds apart, like an entirely new universe where all the runners must surely spend every minute of their days running. But seeing a friend conquer those 26.2 miles was inspiring. Suddenly the playing field seemed more open and accessible to the rest of us. And here I am, almost about to start that race myself, and I'm still just me. I don't feel any different, I'm just who I always was.
Yet looking back these past months I can see differences, even if they aren't immediately obvious. This week I made myself porridge. Ok so that's not a major deal for most people, but it was the first time I made something to fuel myself and then ate it during this whole process. Normally I'd only have it if Larry was around to make it, because eating it was one thing, but to have to make it then eat it? No way. Obviously my running has improved a lot too, but the thing people have noticed about me is my self-confidence. Someone at the gym yesterday commented on how I move with more confidence, how much more comfortable I am with my ability. When I do classes I find them a lot easier than I ever used to, and whereas before I'd hold back because I felt sick or dizzy (usually a result of not fuelling beforehand), now I only hold back if I deem the movement potentially injury-inducing. And then there's body confidence. With the exception of this past week where tapering has left me feeling bloated and fat, I can bear to look at my whole body in the mirror now, I can accept looking strong over looking thin (more or less). I will get there.
On Tuesday I received the amazing news that I had a conditional offer to study medicine again. People who know me well know how much I went through when I was last a medical student, how much it crucified me to give it up, how many tears I have shed over my lost career. But as my running shows, I'm nothing if not tenacious and determined, or downright stubborn if you like. Last year I studied hard, in September I sat a notoriously difficult and insanely long exam, and passing that enabled me to get a position at interview. On Tuesday I discovered I had passed that, scoring in the top 20% of candidates, and only have the occupational health review to satisfy now. Except now it looks as though my therapist, always an ally in the past, will not be supporting my application as she thinks I am not well enough. She still considers my running as a form of self-harm, and my running VLM as a form of self-torture. My running has made me the person I am today; it has given me wings and set my mind free. I have achieved things I never dreamed possible. She cannot understand that I run because I like running, I love the friends I have made through running, and I love being part of a world where you're never alone. Luckily my GP is, as ever, supportive, and genuinely wants the best for me. I do understand that certain aspects of my illness with anorexia will hold me up to scrutiny, and yet again I will have to defend myself. But I hope that the OH doctor will be able to see that I am not the person I was then, and enable me to embark on my career so I can do the job I was made to do.
When I was at medical school before and under heavy scrutiny from the powers that be, being told I should be glad I was raped because it gave me a reason to be depressed, I was pretty much broken. I was completely emotionally burnt out, and was on the path that would lead to anorexia hell. When I told them that I would be taking an extended sabbatical my initial feeling was that of relief. Relief that I no longer had the pressure on me from above, always scrutinising me, looking for flaws that weren't there, relief that I no longer had to open my emails with dread that there would be a summons from the sub dean for yet another character assassination. But after that relief was such a deep sense of loss that has haunted me all these years. I went to my husband's graduation from med school choking back the tears knowing that it should've been me too. I think that's why I submerged into anorexia as much as I did, it stopped it hurting just for a little while.
I don't want to feel that loss any more.
If training for VLM these past 6 months has shown me anything it's that anything is possible if you try hard enough. I look back at the days I went out training over the winter, when freezing rain fell and icy winds cut me to the core. The days when I really wanted to stay inside with the family and keep warm, but instead went out and trained. Running in the dark. Running in the snow. Running over icy pavements. Running when tired. Running when hungry. I've done it all. I'm not the person I was when I started my VLM journey. I have evolved somehow, in ways that weren't obvious at the time but are clear when you look back. The impossible has become possible. To borrow a quote from a post my friend, Rohan Kallicharan, shared on Facebook today:
"A new journey will begin, one in which you will never again doubt yourself, and in which you will know that you can achieve everything to which you set your mind."
So I'm going to go to my occupational health interview, and I will be honest about everything I have been through. And rather than let my past illness destroy the person I hope to become, I will use it to show them why I have so much to bring the medical world, and maybe, just maybe, my final wish will come true.
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| The phoenix rising from the ashes |
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