Fitness has always been a big part of my life. I live in Orlando, Florida, and I’ve played softball competitively since I was three. I got a sports scholarship to college, which meant strict diets, strength and conditioning coaching, and the weight room every day until I was 21.
After college, I started work as a fashion stylist, joined a gym and took fitness classes. By the time I was 27, I was working out three or four times a week. I worked long hours and coached high school softball, too. I was on a paleo diet and had a six-pack. I loved the results I got from workouts, and enjoyed the competition and camaraderie of group exercise.
In January 2011, I did a 5km Warrior Dash (similar to a Tough Mudder) assault course on the Saturday. I felt great but I know I didn’t hydrate properly, and being in the sun and drinking a beer afterwards wasn’t a good idea.
On Monday, I went to my regular CrossFit class, even though I didn’t feel like it. The workout was timed, a mix of running and high-intensity sit-ups; I pushed myself hard but finished last. I never finished last.
The next morning, I had to roll out of bed. I couldn’t sit up. My stomach was swollen and my trousers were tight. I just thought the sit-ups had really kicked my butt.
I had a clothes fitting for an event at which I was the compere, but nothing fitted. My back was swollen; I had what looked like love handles. I went to the toilet at the boutique and noticed the water was brown, but didn’t realise it was my own urine – I now know it was a sign of kidney failure and those love handles were my kidneys failing.
When I got home, I felt like a truck had hit me. I couldn’t move my arms; I could hardly talk. I was so tired.
When I started working out, I remember we were told by the trainers about a condition called rhabdomyolysis, which can be caused by extreme physical workouts; it was like an urban myth.
My flatmate started Googling my symptoms. If your wee is brown, it said, go straight to the ER. We lived across the road from the hospital. My stomach was so swollen and tight I couldn’t be touched. I turned up and said, “I think I have rhabdomyolysis.” The nurse had to look it up.
They hooked me up to an IV drip and took my creatinine count (a waste product in blood that rises as kidney function slows). My readings were off the chart. I was in full-blown kidney failure. They pumped me with fluids. I was in a lot of pain but couldn’t take painkillers because of my kidneys.
The next morning I was hunched over like an 80-year-old, not a 28-year-old. My stomach was so distended and my body so full of fluid I couldn’t move my hands or walk; my mum had to take me to the toilet. I looked like I’d gained 20lb in 48 hours and no one could give me straight answers. I was panicked.
The medics accused me of taking drugs or supplements. By my fourth day on an IV, I broke down. They finally sent a specialist in sports medicine to explain what was happening. A combination of being dehydrated and overexerting myself led my muscles to start to break down, releasing myoglobin into my bloodstream, which led to kidney failure. He made me feel more at ease when he said the condition was becoming more common in athletes with the increased popularity of more intense exercise classes. He also explained that I won’t be damaged for ever.
From left to right: Nish Kumar, Decca Aitkenhead, Sali Hughes, Yotam Ottolenghi, Ken Loach, Jess Cartner-Morley, and Alys Fowler will all be appearing at Guardian Weekend Live on Saturday 2 December
I was in hospital for a week. When I left, my body was still disfigured. I was normally a size 0, but had to wear medium sweatpants and cried for about three weeks afterwards while the fluid that was left in my body spread to my legs and genitals. I just had to wait for the fluid to make its way out of my body, which took several weeks.
Healing was hard, physically, but the mental side was worse. The trauma left me with hair loss and migraines. I didn’t work out for a year. I kept replaying the doctor saying: “How could you do this to yourself?”
Eventually I started yoga, but my workouts are never competitive. I still push myself, but now I know my limits.
After college, I started work as a fashion stylist, joined a gym and took fitness classes. By the time I was 27, I was working out three or four times a week. I worked long hours and coached high school softball, too. I was on a paleo diet and had a six-pack. I loved the results I got from workouts, and enjoyed the competition and camaraderie of group exercise.
In January 2011, I did a 5km Warrior Dash (similar to a Tough Mudder) assault course on the Saturday. I felt great but I know I didn’t hydrate properly, and being in the sun and drinking a beer afterwards wasn’t a good idea.
On Monday, I went to my regular CrossFit class, even though I didn’t feel like it. The workout was timed, a mix of running and high-intensity sit-ups; I pushed myself hard but finished last. I never finished last.
The next morning, I had to roll out of bed. I couldn’t sit up. My stomach was swollen and my trousers were tight. I just thought the sit-ups had really kicked my butt.
I had a clothes fitting for an event at which I was the compere, but nothing fitted. My back was swollen; I had what looked like love handles. I went to the toilet at the boutique and noticed the water was brown, but didn’t realise it was my own urine – I now know it was a sign of kidney failure and those love handles were my kidneys failing.
When I got home, I felt like a truck had hit me. I couldn’t move my arms; I could hardly talk. I was so tired.
When I started working out, I remember we were told by the trainers about a condition called rhabdomyolysis, which can be caused by extreme physical workouts; it was like an urban myth.
My flatmate started Googling my symptoms. If your wee is brown, it said, go straight to the ER. We lived across the road from the hospital. My stomach was so swollen and tight I couldn’t be touched. I turned up and said, “I think I have rhabdomyolysis.” The nurse had to look it up.
They hooked me up to an IV drip and took my creatinine count (a waste product in blood that rises as kidney function slows). My readings were off the chart. I was in full-blown kidney failure. They pumped me with fluids. I was in a lot of pain but couldn’t take painkillers because of my kidneys.
The next morning I was hunched over like an 80-year-old, not a 28-year-old. My stomach was so distended and my body so full of fluid I couldn’t move my hands or walk; my mum had to take me to the toilet. I looked like I’d gained 20lb in 48 hours and no one could give me straight answers. I was panicked.
The medics accused me of taking drugs or supplements. By my fourth day on an IV, I broke down. They finally sent a specialist in sports medicine to explain what was happening. A combination of being dehydrated and overexerting myself led my muscles to start to break down, releasing myoglobin into my bloodstream, which led to kidney failure. He made me feel more at ease when he said the condition was becoming more common in athletes with the increased popularity of more intense exercise classes. He also explained that I won’t be damaged for ever.
From left to right: Nish Kumar, Decca Aitkenhead, Sali Hughes, Yotam Ottolenghi, Ken Loach, Jess Cartner-Morley, and Alys Fowler will all be appearing at Guardian Weekend Live on Saturday 2 December
I was in hospital for a week. When I left, my body was still disfigured. I was normally a size 0, but had to wear medium sweatpants and cried for about three weeks afterwards while the fluid that was left in my body spread to my legs and genitals. I just had to wait for the fluid to make its way out of my body, which took several weeks.
Healing was hard, physically, but the mental side was worse. The trauma left me with hair loss and migraines. I didn’t work out for a year. I kept replaying the doctor saying: “How could you do this to yourself?”
Eventually I started yoga, but my workouts are never competitive. I still push myself, but now I know my limits.
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