Did I Ever Feel That Good? Living with Long Covid

October 2018 Day 2 Ride Allegheny

The sheer joy in my smile caught my attention as I scrolled through the pictures. It wasn’t the picture I was looking for, but perhaps the one I needed to find at that moment. I could only stare in wonder at the happiness on my face in that picture.

Had I ever felt so good? Such abandoned joy as I did that day? Yes, I have. And I have photo proof of it, too. I had just completed Day 2 of a 4-day bike ride, Ride Allegheny—a 310-mile bike ride from Pittsburgh to DC to raise money for a local nonprofit.

The Before Long Covid Me

I hadn’t trained as I should have (a common theme in my life) because I had a base fitness and sheer force of will to push my body beyond its limits and accomplish endurance rides like Ride Allegheny. I loved being on my bike. I felt free. It was probably one of the few places I felt that way in that 20/20 hindsight knowing kind of a way. Alcoholism had already curled around me, tightening itself like a snake, hellbent on my destruction.

But not on those days when I rode. And that picture, taken after I’d grinded out the last twenty miles that I swear was uphill the entire way, to finally stop and rest. I couldn’t stop before the end. If I did I wouldn’t have started again, and so I kept going. My legs like pistons on a machine. Which was another nickname for me – The Machine. Because I don’t stop.

And that day was no different.

My legs were so tired that as I slowed to a stop on a pedestrian bridge, I almost feel over. And I laughed about it. A volunteer snapped that picture of me in a moment of relieved joy.

Reflections Almost A Year Later

I sit here now, writing about my memories of those days, when my body felt like a machine. Now it feels like an alien landscape, something I used to be familiar with, but now no longer recognize. I am shadow of that person who could go for miles.

Now, each expenditure of energy has to be managed. I use Spoon Theory to explain to others my energy level. Most days I’m lucky if I have one spoon to last me the entire day.

I don’t ride my bike anymore. I can’t. I can barely run a mile. I can barely go grocery shopping, walk the dog, get up in the morning, comprehend words, count money, etc. I can no longer do everything I took for granted, everything that came to me automatically. Everything others took for granted that I could do, I couldn’t do. Not anymore.

I wrote this almost ten months ago, in January 2024. At that point, I’d had Long COVID-19 for about a year and a half. It got worse until it started getting better. Incremental steps so small would have never registered as progress to the before-times me. But the Long COVID-19 me, I see every little step forward, no matter how small.

I’m still immensely sad at what I’ve lost because of Long COVID-19, but I don’t dwell on it as much. Maybe it’s because I’m starting to be able to do slightly more.

I can play 18 holes of disc golf.

I can run a mile now.

I can go to exercise classes two days a week.

My goal is to be able to run a marathon next year.

Could be too lofty a goal, but I’m going to try. I will get back to that smiling runner in this picture.

Yes, Long COVID-19 took so much from me. But it gave me something unexpected—clarity. Clarity around how best to spend my energy, clarity around my boundaries, and, sadly, clarity about who would be there for me and who wouldn’t.

Even though I am grateful for that clarity and truth, I ended up in a very dark place because of it. Sometimes, that hard truth will do that to you.

Please join me for a free virtual poetry reading on June 26, 2024, at 3 pm EST. This event is hosted by Ask A Sex Abuse Survivor. I will be reading this poem and many others. Click here to register.