ath·lete /ˈaTH(ə)ˌlēt/ noun: a person who is trained or skilled in exercises, sports, or games requiring physical strength, agility, or stamina

According to Meriam Webster's definition of an athlete as written above, I am an athlete.

However, my identity as an athlete has waxed and waned over the years due to a number of life schmetzes. Schmetz is a word my family uses to describe unfortunate, annoying, unpredictable, or frustrating events that force us to redirect life in some way.

For me, the major schmetz was living with undiagnosed chronic Lyme disease for most of my 20's. For years, I thought my inability to progress in certain sports, such as running, was no fault but my own lack of discipline or natural talent. In reality, I was living in a body that was really sick and needed some significant medical attention.

I'm sharing my story because (1) some may find it very relatable and (2) to send the message that we shouldn't let a schmetz rob us through every chapter of our life. There will almost always be future opportunities to rediscover a version of yourself you didn't even know existed if you remain curious and patient enough.

From the Beginning

As a child, I was granted the fortune of being born into a family who loved staying active. I have ample memories of my mother bundling my sister and I up to cross country ski or downhill ski on Stevens Pass outside Seattle, WA, which was where I spent most of my early childhood years. Weekends were spent trekking around the Cascade mountains or exploring our forested backyard. Whenever we said, "Mom, we're bored," her response would be, "Go outside and play!"

My dad was a Pennsylvania state champ swimmer who went on to swim at University of Michigan as one of their top swimmers. While growing up, I observed him training for half marathons, endurance nordic ski events, triathlons, distance mountain bike races, and master swim competitions. He's always been one of my major sources of inspiration when it comes to balancing work and family life with his athletic pursuits.

My sister and I both possessed large amounts of energy as young children, which encouraged my parents to expose us to a multitude of sports including ballet, gymnastics, swimming, T-ball, and soccer. When we moved to Steamboat Springs, CO during elementary school, my sister and I discovered the world of winter sports.

She gravitated towards freestyle mogul skiing, while I took to competitive figure skating and snowboarding. I would go from gracefully gliding around an ice rink being cued from coaches to "Point your middle finger down, Skylar. Your hands need to look elegant!" to hitting the halfpipe while my snowboard coaches challenged me to, "Charge that side hit, Skylar!"

Figure 1. Little figure skater Sky.

My exposure to sport from a young age was full of variety and I loved it. I continued to play soccer in the fall, spring, and summer, while winter time was largely dominated by figure skating and snowboarding. Eventually, conflicting practice and competition times forced me to pick either figure skating or snowboarding. After an encounter at a figure skating competition where they wouldn't let me on the ice as a 10 year old girl without lipstick on, my decision to pursue snowboarding came pretty easily.

Throughout middle school and high school, I continued to focus most of my attention on competitive snowboarding and soccer. I dabbled here and there with sports like middle school track & field and tennis, but snowboarding and soccer were my first loves. In the early years of your snowboarding career, it's not uncommon to compete in all five events, including slalom, giant slalom, halfpipe, slopestyle, and bordercross.

I qualified for my first snowboard nationals in sixth grade in slalom and giant slalom. I walked away with two podium finishes at that nationals, which boosted my confidence that maybe I was okay at this sport. In subsequent years, I continued to qualify for nationals and continued to secure podium finishes in nearly all five disciplines, which made me one of the top all-around riders in the country in my age group.

Ninth grade was my last year competing in all five events. After claiming national halfpipe champion in halfpipe (with food poisoning!!), I started to specialize in halfpipe. High school is around the time that most snowboard athletes choose a specialization.

Figure 2. Sky competing in halfpipe at Copper Mountain Nationals with food poisoning.

I continued to travel all over the country for snowboard competitions and trained five to six days a week while maintaining a 4.3 GPA. I was still participating in soccer during the off-seasons of snowboarding.

I continued to adore the sport of snowboarding, but also started to notice something else happening. I started to develop a lack of confidence and ability to properly visualize some of my tricks. This can be extremely dangerous in a sport like snowboarding where you're launching yourself into the air above a block of ice. I had witnessed a few horrific falls and injuries of other athletes in the sport and also taken a few diggers myself (even cracked a helmet at one point), which I know contributed to a lot of my apprehension.

I started overthinking everything I did. I know this was just as frustrating to my coaches as it was for me. They knew, and even I knew, that my technique and style as a snowboarder would allow me to excel in the sport, but my inability to believe in myself was robbing me of any chance.

At the end of my junior year of high school, I decided to walk away from competitive snowboarding. I chose to focus my senior year on soccer and trying a new sport, cross-country running, while also focusing my attention on academics, so I could eventually end up at the college of my choice.

Figure 3. Soccer was a staple sport for me throughout childhood and adolescence. I attribute my good bone mineral density to this power-based sport!

While I missed many aspects of competitive snowboarding, I felt like I needed to step away from the sport to reestablish my identity as an athlete. I needed to fall back in love with movement, competition, and pushing my body physically. Dipping my toes into long distance running through cross-country allowed me the space to do that.

I loved my one season as a cross-country athlete. My love for distance running continued to blossom during my time at Cal Poly San Luis Obispo as an undergrad. Our fitness center was being remodeled my freshman year, so the only choice I had for exercise was running. By junior year, I entered my first half marathon and was hooked. I did another half marathon my senior year, and eventually combined my multi-sport background to do an Olympic distance triathlon as well.

However, this is when the schmetz I mentioned at the beginning of this blog started to creep in and make me question my ability to identify as an athlete.

My Schmetz

After completing the Olympic Distance Triathlon, my health plummeted. Right after the race, I developed severe cold sores across my entire upper lip. At first, I thought it was some water-borne infection I acquired from swimming in the lake for the open water swim. That's how bad it looked!

I developed flu-like symptoms for about one week after the triathlon. I thought I had just over done it, because I was also taking 18 credit hours in engineering, working as a calculus workshop facilitator, finishing up my senior project, balancing my athletic goals, and balancing a wonderful social life.

Once the flu-like symptoms disappeared, extreme bloating and nausea persisted. I also was consumed by an incredible amount of fatigue. After eating breakfast, I would have to lie down because I was in so much pain and so exhausted. When I went home that summer for an engineering internship, my parents realized I looked weak, had lost weight, and was not my usual energetic self.

In a nutshell, that summer I was treated for something called Small Intestinal Bacterial Overgrowth (SIBO) with a course of strong antibiotics. It helped with some of my gut-related symptoms, but I continued to experience uncomfortable and mysterious symptoms. Eventually, I started working with a Registered Dietitian because many foods were still agitating me. This is when I discovered the world of nutrition as a career and profession.

Slowly, my symptoms started to dissipate. I was able to take a full time job as an engineer in Austin, TX. I started to train for a marathon and was falling back in love with the sport of long distance running. The whole time, I still felt like there was something in my body holding me back from really pushing myself. I wasn't able to trust the feeling of wanting to push myself to total exhaustion. Frankly, I was scared of falling back into the feeling I had experienced after the triathlon.

And my intuition was right.

After I completed the Austin Marathon in 2018, my health plummeted again. This time it was the severe gastrointestinal issues combined with horrible joint pain, daily headaches, and neurological symptoms like panic attacks and mood swings I couldn't control. I felt like I was some combination of hung-over and having the flu 24/7.

Figure 4. Me on my way to finishing my first marathon with a time of 3:55. At this time, I didn't know just how sick I was.

I felt trapped in my own body.

I still continued to exercise because movement has always been my escape, but nearly every time I exercised, I felt terrible. Looking back, I was experiencing exercise intolerance. Exercise is inherently an inflammatory activity, so when your body's stress bucket is already full, exercise tips that bucket over and causes more harm than good.

I was in and out of doctor offices and appointments. I had invasive testing done, including an endoscopy and colonoscopy. I gave more blood and stool than most people my age will give by the time they're 40!

No doctors could give me a clear diagnosis for why my body wasn't functioning the way I remembered it functioning before all my health issues started that senior year of undergrad. Most doctors told me it was all stress related and all in my head. It was frustrated and also very scary.

This is when my identity as an athlete truly crumbled. I would go for a four mile run and feel like my body was ready to implode. What used to be a magical escape for me, became something that exasperated my symptoms.

Because I wasn't getting answers from doctors, I started to view myself as weak and like a terrible athlete. Maybe I was disillusioned and actually was a dried up athlete who lacked any sort of talent. Maybe my past as a competitive snowboarder was all a fluke. Maybe I should just give up and stop acting like I'm a runner.

Just when I had given up all hope, the pandemic arrived and afforded me extra time and space away from work to continue pursuing the root cause of all my health issues. Deep down, I knew it wasn't all in my head and I deserved answers. After doing my own research, I sought out a speciality clinic who specialized in Lyme disease. Multiple doctors had already told me it wasn't Lyme disease, but my intuition was telling me to get the testing done.

I shelled out the big bucks to get testing done through a private lab and sure enough…I had been living with chronic Lyme disease since I was 21 years old. I was officially diagnosed at age 27.

It was also discovered I had several other reactivated chronic viral infections, mercury and lead toxicity, and several nutrient deficiencies. Basically, my body was a dumpster full of trash.

It took me about three years to fully treat Lyme disease and enter remission. About one year ago is when I felt like I had turned a corner and my symptoms stopped ruling my daily life. I started to increase my weekly exercise load and discovered that my body could recover more quickly. This gave me the encouragement I needed to rediscover myself as an athlete.

Figure 5. Taken summer 2023 during a long run out in the flat tops wilderness. This is something my body would not have been able to endure even two years ago.

Last summer, I ran several trail races, including a trail half marathon and a 26k trail race, both at high altitude. I also started mountain biking and road cycling again. I continued my endurance training efforts into the winter. I would nordic skate ski about two to three days a week, uphill ski up the resort about two to three days a week, and maintained some level of running. Once spring rolled around, I had built a solid aerobic base that allowed me to engage in back to back 44 mile running weeks. I raced a 10k a couple weeks ago and ended up third place female. This weekend, I'm racing the Steamboat Half Marathon and planning to chase a new personal record.

Figure 6. Ascending the ski resort this winter on a windy and cold morning with friend and colleague at Endurance Training Strategies Jessica Yeaton, DPT

Figure 7. Smiles after discovering I have some speed in me at the 10k pace.

At 30 years old, I feel like I'm the most fit and strong I've been in years. I can recover after intense workouts and actually feel like my fitness is increasing, not decreasing. Do I feel like I was robbed of so much athletic potential throughout my 20s? Definitely. Is that extremely frustrating to me? You bet.

But I keep reminding myself that what I endured and experienced throughout my 20s is what has allowed me to support so many of my clients and patients as a Registered Dietitian. I can relate to you when you come to me with your life schmetzes. While I won't pretend to feel exactly what you're feeling, I acknowledge and validate that what you're feeling is real.

I have worked with athletes going through chronic and acute injuries or athletes experiencing chronic illness themselves. I know how terrible it can feel like to have your body not respond in the way you want it or need it to.

So here's my reminder and message to summarize this very long (cheers to you if you made it this far!) blog post: Your identity as an athlete may wax and wane over the years, but don't let that dampen your ability or desire to return to what you love. You might return in a different form, but you're still toeing the line, and that's something to celebrate.

~Sky