If you’re here looking for the perfect 5K training plan, I’ll stop you right now — this isn’t that post. 😉 There are plenty of structured plans out there that promise to get you race-ready in 6, 8, or 12 weeks. But when you live with chronic illness — in my case, endometriosis and POTS (Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome) — life, and especially training, doesn’t follow a perfect schedule.
I started training in March for a 5K I planned to run in June. That gave me three months to prepare. But let me tell you — it wasn’t three months of perfect progress. Some days I felt strong. Some days I barely made it out the door. And others, I didn’t try at all — because my body needed rest, not a run.
I Started With a Walk
Literally.
There was no “day one jog” or sprint intervals. I started walking. Slowly. I got outside and moved my body gently. I had to relearn what “effort” meant — not in terms of grit or hustle, but in terms of tuning into my body and asking, What’s actually possible today?
As my body adjusted, I began to sprinkle in short jogs. But with POTS, my heart rate can spike without warning — so pacing became less about distance or speed and more about managing my internal signals. I found a rhythm that allowed me to jog without feeling dizzy, and I learned to be flexible: some runs had to slow to a walk, and others surprised me with more stamina than I expected. Every day looked a little different.
It Was Never About Pushing Through
The biggest shift wasn’t physical — it was mental.
I had to let go of the belief that I couldn’t be a runner because of my chronic illnesses. Instead, I decided to work with my body, not against it. That meant taking rest seriously. I soaked in Epsom salt baths like it was a sport. I stretched more than I thought humanly necessary. I drank water like it was my job and used electrolytes religiously after every workout.
I prioritized sleep. I fueled with plenty of protein. I learned that training with a chronic illness means becoming deeply attuned to your body’s needs — and honoring them without shame.
Race Day: Slower, Stronger, and So, So Proud
When race day arrived in June, I wasn’t focused on beating a personal best. My only goal was to finish. I hydrated with electrolytes beforehand, did a few active stretches, and stuck to the same slow-to-medium pace I’d found during training. I listened to my body, just like I had for the past three months.
And when I crossed that finish line, I cried. Not because I’d set a record — but because I did something I never thought I could. I finished something that required courage, patience, and constant self-compassion.
If You’re Reading This, I Hope You Know…
You don’t have to follow someone else’s blueprint to do something meaningful.
You don’t have to train like an able-bodied athlete to be proud of yourself.
You don’t have to fit into any box to accomplish something bold.
You just need to listen — really listen — to your body. Choose a goal that excites you. Move in ways that feel good for you. Rest as much as you need. Progress at your pace. And most importantly, don’t compare your story to anyone else’s — even mine.
You are allowed to be both kind to your body and ambitious about what you can do. And if no one’s told you yet today: I’m proud of you.
P.S. If you’re living with chronic illness and wondering if you can take on a physical goal — this is your sign. Not to follow a cookie-cutter training plan, but to believe in your own version of progress. 💛
Check out these posts for more helpful info on finding exercise that works for your body:
Little Hope Notes 
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