On this day last year, I was jetting across half of the world, setting my feet on American soil for the very first time. A year on and wow how much has changed! A year on, where am I now? At home, like most of the rest of the world - dreaming about adventures gone by and moments ahead.
Thinking back to this day last year, I remember feeling full of nervous anticipation. I could even say I was feeling scared - scared to travel so far away from home and spend two weeks with people that I didn't know very well. People that were basically strangers (that would only become strong friends) - but whom I had only met fleetingly and spoken to briefly on a sandy beach in Llandudno and in a huge strange hotel in a middle of a wild forest in Bulgaria (gotta love World Mountain Champs after parties). On this day last year, I was feeling anxious to travel so far alone. I had never been on a long haul flight before. I remember boarding the bus that would take me to the airport in London and waving goodbye to my Mum almost in tears - I didn't know what was waiting for me in the two weeks ahead and the sadness I felt with leaving behind my family for Easter was real. But still - I went. I breathed deeply and asked myself why I had booked the flights in the first place. I wanted to visit Boulder to see what all the fuss was about. I wanted to go on an adventure. Little did I know that this little adventure would change things so drastically. Little did I know that being so far from home was only the beginning of returning home to myself. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me explain...
Oh boyyyy what an adventure it turned out to be. Andy Wacker was an AMAZING host and that word just doesn't do him justice. He was my tour guide for the next two weeks and we ran so many incredible trails together. I will be forever grateful to Andy for everything he did for me and the welcome and hospitality he showed me. (Andy if you're reading this, thanks so much!) Staying in Andy's house at Lazy Arces above Boulder along with his wife Karley, his house mates and their lovely energetic dog Fig (and I should probably add the next door neighbours dog, Charlene to that list) was an experience I know I will never ever forget. The two weeks flew by and I felt right at home living in a house of athletes with a passion just like me for running and life in the outdoors from the moment I walked through the door. I got to explore so many different trails, saw some beautiful jet lagged sunrises, walked many dog loops, played and lost many games of Bananagrams, fell over twice, cycled the long ascent from Boulder up to the house, narrowly missed some early morning bear encounters, met some local Boulder professional athletes who were hanging out drinking beer in the park, did a long run with some mega fast track girls, tried (and failed) to crack the art of getting your box to weigh less at Wholefoods, did the Celestial Tea Tour, had a Fig on my lap, got a free chocolate icecream, had my first burrito, did Tacho Tuesday, cried at 4000 metres, saw a moose, felt like I'd stepped through the back of the wardrobe and ended up in snowy Narnia. The list is endless. So many happy memories.
All of this and so many moments in between - I remember it all so well as if it all happened only yesterday. I'm so so so so glad I got on that plane. It's true Colorado, the place that makes you Bo(u)lder.
The reason why I'm writing this blog post is to think back to this time last year and to realise how far I've come. This time last year, I was having the time of my life in Boulder. Those two weeks spent there were a chance of a lifetime. But then - I think back and I remember how I was feeling within myself and a dark cloud comes over my head. It wasn't pretty. I was unbalanced. I was unhealthy. Most of all, I was just so goddamn hungry.
I know I've written about it before and if you're this far into this blog post then hopefully it's because you're interested in what I've got to say and you'll carry on reading. I'm not writing this to have a pity party or to gain sympathy. I'm writing this to highlight what can happen when your passion becomes unhealthy. I'm writing this to show the world that it's okay to talk about these things and that in fact we must talk about these things. Mental health is something that shouldn't be shunned. This is important. If you feel like you can relate to any of the things I'm talking about in this blog post or what I'm about to say. Or perhaps you feel like you can recognise that maybe someone around you is following this type of behavior. I urge you to reach out. Help yourself, help others. We are not alone. In these times, more than ever it's empowering to see and feel the human connections. I would be more than happy to help anyone who feels like they need to talk about these things. Please just message me if you want to. I want to help you. I want to help you realise that you are not alone and that together we can do so much. Something I wrote on this day last year in a blog post feels kind of relevant :
Just look up. See that above you? That's the sky and it's huge. I imagine all the people who have ever helped, inspired, grounded or touched me in some way as a glowing sky full of sunlight. Gazing out of the plane window right now I can see all of your faces. At the front and largest of all are my parents. They are my biggest inspirations, my biggest supporters, my biggest reason for my happiness rooted deep inside - I'll be forever in debt to them. In my sky I can see all your faces. Family and friends - all the people who are in my life somehow, someway or another. You are all there and you are all smiling. Guiding me, willing me onwards. Onwards towards the great unknown. Just as I am a face in your sky - willing you onwards too.Let's hold each other up.Up to the sky.Continually.
Okay so thinking back to this time last year - it's actually kind of difficult for me to look at the pictures of myself in Boulder. These pictures bring back many happy memories, but they are painful to look at too. Why? Because, I am literally a stick. I look like I could break any moment. In short, I look unhealthy. I look ill. And I did it to myself. I was stuck in a cycle of hunger. Just doing the best I could every moment to distract myself from the growling bear inside my stomach.
Thinking back, remembering it - I wonder actually how I did it. Now when I feel hungry - I eat. Something so simple but I'm proud of myself every time. I satisfy the growling bear and a year on I'm proud of how far I've come. I mean it's not easy. No way. It's a constant battle. It was, it is a constant uphill struggle. I don't know if I can say I had an eating disorder - I wasn't ever properly diagnosed. But I know I wasn't eating enough. I was restricting. I was over training. I was pushing my body wayyy too much. I didn't have any self love. All I had was push, push, push. Push yourself as hard as you can, because you will never be good enough Heidi. You will never be who you want to be.
I wanted to be a good athlete. I wanted to be the best runner I could be. I thought the only way to do that was to make myself the lightest, skinniest version of myself. I still to this day don't know where I got this idea from and why I fell down into this trap - maybe I never will. But it is sadly common in our sport. I've had many many conversations with many other people who have gone through or are going through the same thing or know someone who is and it breaks my heart. This is not okay. It's not okay to be doing this to yourself, to know you are doing it and to not be able to stop. It is not okay. Reach out, talk to someone, get help before it is too late. I was shrinking myself down and becoming a shadow of myself. I knew deep down it wasn't sustainable. But I wasn't ready to face up to myself. I wasn't ready to challenge myself. Going to Boulder and spending those two weeks with Andy and the athletes in the Rocky Mountains changed all that.
I knew as I watched the other athletes in Andy's house cooking big, healthy sized nutritious meals and running fast and strong whilst I nibbled away at an inadequately sized portion in the corner and going to bed still hungry that something didn't add up. I knew I was doing something wrong. I knew that something would have to change. I knew I was facing a make it or break it situation. What would have to change was me, my mindset. It was time to stop focusing on the shape of my body. It was time to start focusing on the shape of my mind.
It hasn't been easy, it hasn't been a walk in the park. But coming back from those amazing two whirlwind weeks in Boulder to the result of a bone density scan which said I was almost suffering with osteoporosis was the final piece in the jigsaw that I was piecing together in my mind in the Rocky Mountains. The final piece that sealed the bigger picture. If I wanted to continue to do the sport I loved, to continue to run free in the mountains and live more days like I did in Boulder then something needed to give. I needed to break the cycle. It was a long time coming but I saw what I needed to do and this past year has been a journey of recovery. Returning to myself. One day at a time. One mouthful at a time. Until now. I can finally say it - I feel free.
I honestly don't know how much I weigh right now. And honestly - I just really don't care. How amazing it feels to write and feel that. This time last year I would stand on the scales everyday obsessing over every 0.1kg of myself. Now I feel strong. I have strength in my body but most importantly in my mind. I've gained body fat, gained muscle. I've gained weight. I've gained self love. But most importantly I've gained my life back. And oh what a joy it is to be alive.
16th April 2020, Malonno, Italy. Here I am. A 22 year old athlete. But I am so much more than just that. I am the stories that shape me, the places I've been, the people I've met, the connections I've made. We all contain millions of multitudes within our skin. We are all the places we've ever been, all the places we will go. We are wherever we are right now, at home (most probably) we are what we are in our minds. Inside there are mountains. In these days at home, we are not climbing the mountains. Only those of our minds... I wish you great adventures.
Staying positive doesn't mean you have to be happy all the time. It means even on hard days, you know that there are better ones coming.
So keep your positive pants on
Keep dreaming
Bye for now,
Heidi x
