The Rollercoaster of Intuitive Exercise
Some nitty gritty insight into how my eating disorder tries to suck the joy from my life
It’s been a hot minute since I last posted! I don’t really have anything outstanding to share this time, unfortunately. My life has just been a steady stream of college, work, and dirty dishes in the sink. But that’s how life goes. For me, it’s really easy to feel jealous of all the social media hikers and backpackers out there who always seem to be doing something fun and amazing. Whether that be a thru-hike, a trail race, a quick overnight somewhere super cool, or something like that, I fall victim to the comparison trap real hard.
I think a lot of folks can relate to this concept, not just with hiking and outdoor adventures, but with social media posts in general making it seem like everyone’s life is perfect. It’s important to remind ourselves that this isn’t the case and that everyone has laundry piling up or stains on the carpet from where their dog threw up the night before. So I guess what I’m trying to say is that, for those of you reading this who don’t always get to do the things you love to do because of life stuff, it’s okay. Don’t be too hard on yourself because the trail will still be there, waiting for you to come back.
I figured this post could be a little update dump of what’s been on my mind lately when it comes to hiking and running. Other than not getting to do it as often as I would like, I’ve continued to go through this long battle with my eating disorder and exercise. I spoke about how I hike in recovery in a previous post (that is located down below!), but I wanted to discuss something about it that really bothers me. I can’t be the only one.
For me, I’ve been trying to be as intuitive as a can be with hiking and trail running. I set boundaries with myself. I limit the usage of my Garmin. I make sure to try and fuel myself well before and after hitting the trail. Yet still, it’s not as black and white as I want it to be. For example, for the past few months, I’ve been running consistently a few times a week. It felt great, I was listening to my body, and I was motivated and excited to wake up every morning to get outside. The routine became habitual and comforting. Laying my clothes out the night before, grabbing some peanut butter crackers as I headed out the door, arriving at the trailhead, lacing up my shoes, stretching, and then taking off.
Afterward, I would come home wild, covered in sweat and dirt. Tired, but just so happy to be alive. The runner’s high would last a little while longer and then at some point in the week, I’d get up to repeat the process. That all ended about two weeks ago when I woke up for a run and just felt my body say “no, that’s enough.” How? What does that feel like? Well, I woke up and just didn’t feel like running. It didn’t sound fun, so I listened to what my body was telling me. The eating disorder obviously had other opinions and threw a temper tantrum each day I decided not to go for a run. This mostly looks like having bad body image, feeling really uncomfortable in my clothes, and having persistent urges to limit my food intake. Fun, fun.
I could deal with this. I’m at the point in my recovery where days like this still suck, but I don’t let them derail my process. I’ve worked too hard to let the eating disorder win. My problem is how hard it can be sometimes to dig through all the noise, all the horrible things my head tells me, and reach for what Callie actually wants. Some days I can do that and some days it’s more complicated.
It’s common for me to feel this way after a period of consistent exercise. When I finally choose to stop, I get slammed with all of the urges and body dysmorphia flare-ups that make it difficult to stay firmly planted in a recovery-focused mindset. Then, I have to go through a kind of “exercise detox” as my head adapts to the lack of structured movement. It’s a frustrating experience and I wish I could run or hike in peace without any eating disorder thoughts, but I honestly don’t even know if that is possible for me. I can only hope so.
For now, I can only do my best and try to ride through the disordered tidal wave as I hike, run, and play around in the woods. The battle for intuitive eating has been a similar one, so why would I expect anything less for exercise? I also still see a dietitian and therapist regularly to work on some of these issues, but even with all the professionals and all of these years seeking out help, eating disorders are really tough to beat.
My advice for those going through something similar? Go easy on yourself and try to not beat yourself up so much. Everything about this process is beyond frustrating, but it’s important not to give in to any urges or feed into any back pocket behaviors that may be inadvertently fueling the eating disorder. The more you give it what it wants (weighing yourself, skipping a meal, cutting out food groups, counting calories, avoiding “fear foods,” purging, or any other eating disorder behavior, etc.) the longer you will be trapped in this cycle.
I wonder more than anything if it is possible to have movement related goals while still being rooted in recovery. I’ve asked myself this question for years and still haven’t completely figured it out yet. I hope one day I do because I have so many awesome trips planned for the future. And it would feel really good to not pack the eating disorder alongside my tent and sleeping bag, but for now, this is my reality whether I like it or not as I learn to carry this extra weight.
Do you struggle with disordered eating, and if so, how does that affect what you love to do? What is one thing you can do this week to try and leave it behind?
See you out on the trail, friends! Or not, if that’s what your body needs.