From Burnout to Breakthrough: How I Reclaimed My Health After a Life of Fast-Paced Success
A Life of Fast-Paced Success
I was 26, living the dream—or so I thought. London in the mid-90s was a whirlwind of opportunities, especially for someone like me who was working in finance. By day, I was sharp, focused, and dedicated. By night, I was just as committed— partying, networking, and keeping up with the fast-paced, glamorous life that the city offered. I was young, invincible, and utterly convinced that nothing could slow me down.
The Diagnosis That Changed Everything
It started as a nagging ache in my hands and wrists. At first, I brushed it off, attributing the pain to hours spent hunched over a computer. “Carpal tunnel,” I thought. But the pain didn’t go away; it got worse. Some days, I could barely hold a pen, let alone keep up with my job.
A trip to the doctor turned my world upside down. “Rheumatoid arthritis,” he said. I was only 26—wasn’t that something that happened to older people? This diagnosis felt like a cruel joke. I had never even heard of autoimmune diseases before.
“But life has a funny way of showing you who’s boss.”
It was the mid-90s, a time when the internet was in its infancy. I scoured what little resources I could find, learning the difference between rheumatoid arthritis and osteoarthritis. Beyond that, there wasn’t much else to guide me. I was left to navigate this new reality with a mix of confusion, fear, and anger.
A Downward Spiral and a Wake-Up Call
The years blurred together—more stress, more pain, more denial. My rheumatoid arthritis was progressing, and my body was bearing the brunt. By the time I hit 30, I was physically and emotionally exhausted. Then, 4 days later, 9/11 hit.
I was living back in NYC at the time. We were struggling to understand what happened with the first plane while watching from a conference room, and then we saw the second plane hit. The world seemed to slow down in that moment. I watched as the tower crumbled, knowing that I was witnessing something that would change the world forever.
But it wasn’t just the world that changed that day—something inside me shifted, too. In the months and years that followed, I spiraled further into unhealthy behaviors as a way to numb the pain and silence the memories.
Finding a New Path in Seattle
In late 2002, after meeting my future husband on a sailing trip in Greece, I moved to Seattle. After almost 2 years of living in the Pacific Northwest and trying some heavy-duty medication for the RA, it would still take me 45 minutes to get out of bed because I was so stiff. My husband casually suggested that I start moving my body a bit more to help alleviate my symptoms. I finally decided that I deserved better. The people around me deserved better. I had a lot of life left.
Here’s the thing about hitting rock bottom: there’s nowhere to go but up.
Rebuilding My Life, Brick by Brick
One day, after a particularly bad flare-up, I looked in the mirror and barely recognized the person staring back at me. I was done with the self-destruction, the denial, the letting my health—or lack thereof—control my life. I knew I had to make a change. This time, it had to be different. No more quick fixes. I needed to rebuild my life, brick by brick, with a focus on true, lasting health.
As I said last week, I started with the South Beach Diet and had to reimagine what healthy eating looked like. Then the running began, and I started to make progress. Within six months, I was able to get off of my medications. I began to feel better. The flare-ups became less frequent, the pain more manageable. It wasn’t a miracle cure, but I was no longer a victim of my disease. I was fighting back, and for the first time in years, I felt like I was winning.
An early 5K near where we live.
New Challenges and Perimenopause
After I had been running for about five years, I started to notice stomach issues post-run. I began experiencing other gastrointestinal problems, so I decided to get some tests done. After a few months of poking and prodding, I received another diagnosis: lymphocytic colitis—a form of colitis common among people who already have an autoimmune disease. This happened in my late 30s, right when I was still trying to pursue my goal of running the NYC marathon for my 40th birthday. Managing this new condition while training was a challenge, but fortunately, my rheumatoid arthritis symptoms had been kept at bay thanks to the increased exercise and improved diet.
Aerobic capacity was locked in at this point but was always worried what my GI system would do post-race.
My health continued to improve as I progressed through my 40s. As we started to do more hiking, I noticed numbness in my fingertips in cooler weather. It got so bad that I was visibly struggling to zip up my vest on one hike. After a few months, I was diagnosed with secondary Raynaud’s—which tends to show up when you have other autoimmune diseases, especially rheumatoid arthritis. That was yet another link to autoimmune.
Unbeknownst to me, I was also going through perimenopause. I didn’t realize that the sleep issues, brain fog, depression, and unexplained mood swings I was experiencing were part of this “thing.” Perimenopause, to me, indicated irregular cycles and hot flashes, which also started to happen just as COVID started being a “thing.” Between eating and drinking all the things in the first few months of COVID while experiencing those symptoms, autoimmune flare-ups started occurring.
Locking down my diet reduced the inflammation that caused most of the autoimmune symptoms such as fatigue, stiffness, and GI issues. Then I spoke to my primary care doctor about hormone replacement therapy, which also helped. I sought out support from other women going through the same thing. While I was finding solace in shared experiences and practical advice, I was frustrated at how this was all tribal knowledge and how underserved this community was—particularly around menopause and autoimmune conditions.
The Birth of Go Long
Today, in my 50s, I’m proud of the journey I’ve been on. Rheumatoid arthritis, lymphocytic colitis, secondary Raynaud’s, and menopause were formidable challenges, but they also taught me invaluable lessons about self-care, resilience, and the power of owning my health. I’m stronger physically and mentally, having worked hard on my fitness over the past 20 years. My VO2 max is something I somewhat obsess about.
But there’s something else that all these challenges have taught me—something that inspired me to start Go Long. Women like us—busy, strong, resilient, and determined—deserve better. We deserve to have a community that understands our unique struggles, whether it’s navigating autoimmune conditions, tackling menopause, or striving to be our best selves despite the obstacles life throws our way.
I realized that the knowledge and support I had to dig so hard to find shouldn’t be so difficult to access.
Go Long was born out of a desire to fill this gap, to provide the kind of guidance and support I wished I had during my toughest times. It’s about more than just fitness or diet—it’s about empowering women to take control of their health, to thrive in their 40s, 50s, and beyond, and to know they’re not alone on this journey.
So here’s to us, to the women who refuse to be defined by our diagnoses, who embrace the journey with all its ups and downs, and who continue to thrive, no matter what life throws our way. We are stronger than we know, and our best days are still ahead. And with Go Long, we’ll face them together.
Let’s Go Long together.
