Oct 29

Oct 29 October Fatigue

I tend to kick off fall like an over-excited, first-time marathon runner. The moment I hear that bang, I’m off. Sprinting ahead, feeling energized, impressed with how fast I can go.

A freezer full of prepped meals! A weeded garden! A packed freelance schedule! Healthy school lunches!

And when that first muscle ache hits, I ignore it. I can’t slow down now - look at how fast I’m running! Now that I know I’m capable of this pace, anything slower feels not enough. So I press on, stumbling as I force myself to keep pounding the pavement.

When writing feels hard, I lean in and work harder. When I struggle to keep up with feeding three meals to five humans every single day, I do not order out. Oh no, I look up new recipes and meal plans on Pinterest. I’m just not doing it right, I decide.

The leaning in and pushing harder takes a toll. It always does, and eventually, my body wins. I simply cannot keep running, and I’m not even sure why I entered this race in the first place.

I’ve reached that point this fall. Maybe you have too. The loveliness of cozy sweaters and pumpkin spice lattes are behind us, and we’re preparing for a gauntlet of unreachable expectations and holiday events. And we’re coming to the starting line worn and tired.

Isn’t it funny that the moment nature starts to slow down and prepare for rest, we assemble at the starting line, ready to hurdle ourselves into the holidays?

I think this October fatigue hits us all. Adrenaline helped us coast through September but now the weeks are just kind of a grind. I’ve stopped packing lunches the night before school. Instead of the entire family spreading a blanket on the grass and enjoying the soccer game, we switch off because there are just too many games to keep up with. Besides, those crisp fall mornings have started to dip below 40 degrees. I just can’t keep up with the sprint anymore. It feels disappointing and oh-so inevitable.

The thing I’m trying to remember is this: running a marathon gets ugly sometimes - I mean, so I’m told. There might be swollen muscles, dead toenails, bathroom emergencies. I’m guessing it doesn’t always look like how you thought it would (or should).

And that’s always how I feel about fall. I get caught up in the magic of a fresh start that I overbook, overcommit, and create expectations that are nowhere near doable. I burst out of the gate and think that just because I started at this pace, I should finish there too.

Of course, I can’t keep pace. None of us can. And the harder we try, the faster we arrive at burnout. A 2018 study found that one of the leading causes of burnout in mothers was perfectionism. It wasn’t the laundry list of tasks that wore them out the most - it was the need to do each one of them perfectly. The researchers noted that many of the women didn’t necessarily feel like they had to be the perfect mother because of internal reasons. Their constant striving was reinforced by societal norms and pressures.

I know, ground-breaking.

But maybe we’re not doing it wrong. Maybe we’re just tired. Maybe our bodies are responding to autumn’s call to slow down and replenish our energy stores, to stop being so damn efficient every second of every day

I’m tired of having to calculate the risks of my unvaccinated children and vaccinated-but-over-65 parents I’m tired of having to wash the soccer uniforms four times per week because God forbid these 9-year-olds show up to practice out of uniform (I mean, practice uniforms! For children! It’s complete lunacy.)

And the thing is, finding our new fall pace is not as easy as just opting out of the hustle. Sure, we could slow down and take a breather but everyone else is still whizzing past us. The crowd of spectators is cheering us on feverishly, cocking their heads and shooting each other looks when they see us slow to a walk. It’s hard to be the one walking when everyone else appears to be running effortlessly.

Fall tends to provide us with a constant array of opportunities to need to be perfect. Helping our families transition to early mornings and after-school activities. Laundering uniforms from said after-school activities. Halloween costumes. Birthday parties. Work projects. Decorating the house. And you haven’t ordered your Christmas gifts yet - don’t forget about the supply chain!

And so I do the only thing I can do. I slow to a walk. I drink some water. I find others who are hanging on the side of the course just trying to catch their breath too. We walk together, lamenting our soreness and vowing to stick together.

It’s not what I imagined but it just is right now. Maybe that’s okay.

This week I let myself walk a little. We ate the freezer meals instead of saving them for the magical day when “we’d really need them.” I went for a walk with a friend. I told my editor I needed to cut back on freelance articles. I immediately regretted that decision and imagined her firing me. She did not.

A few years ago we walked the three blocks from our house to watch friends run our city’s local marathon. As we strained our necks and checked our watches, hoping we hadn’t missed them, I remember seeing a woman jog by while juggling. JUGGLING. For 26.2 miles.

She wore bright colors and rainbow socks. Instead of the usual running visor, she had her long, curly hair down and it flew around her as she shuffled along the pavement. And when I saw the joy on her face, I felt… annoyed. Hey lady, this is supposed to be hard, and I’d appreciate it if you looked a bit more miserable please and thank you.

She didn’t fit in. She ran painfully slowly. And she was the only one who appeared to be enjoying the race. I’m not sure how to translate that into my right-now life but I’d like to try. To go a little slower. To be more myself. To make room for fun.

If you’ve been dragging yourself along a path you don’t even want to run, here are a few questions that might help to right your course.