How I Adjust My Training When My Health Fluctuates

Strategies for balancing goals with body signals

Some days, my body wakes up ready to go — energized, steady, cooperative. Other days, it doesn’t.

After years of living, training, and racing with chronic health conditions — in my case, type 1 diabetes and breast cancer — I’ve learned that this variability isn’t a flaw in the system.

For a long time, I believed consistency meant sticking to a plan no matter what. That mindset brought me to some start lines — and also to injury and unnecessary fear. Over time, I’ve learned a different approach: one rooted in curiosity, flexibility, and trust.

This post isn’t about giving up on goals. It’s about learning how to stay in relationship with them — even when your body sends mixed signals. Here’s how I adjust my training when my health fluctuates, and why listening has made me a stronger athlete and a kinder one.

A moment that changed how I train

A few years ago, I had a long training run scheduled. The plan was solid, the weather was cooperative, and on paper, there was no reason not to lace up and go.

But my body was telling a different story.

My blood sugar had been unpredictable all morning. I felt heavy — not sore exactly, but off. I remember standing in my running shoes, watch charged, water bottle ready, arguing with myself. You’ve done harder things than this. Don’t be lazy. Just start.

I started. And within the first mile, I knew I was negotiating instead of running — bargaining with fatigue, ignoring warning signs, trying to push my body into compliance.

I stopped. I let myself walk home.

That walk felt heavier than any mile I didn’t run that day. It wasn’t the physical effort I mourned; it was the old belief that stopping meant weakness. That was the day I realized something important: I wasn’t failing my training. I was failing to listen.

That moment didn’t make me quit racing. It changed how I train.

Accepting that fluctuation is part of the process

When you live with chronic illness, aging joints, hormonal shifts, stress, or recovery from major health events, the idea of linear progress becomes unrealistic — and often harmful.

Health fluctuates. Energy fluctuates. Motivation fluctuates.

For a long time, I treated those fluctuations as obstacles to overcome. Now, I see them as information. Data points. Messages from a beautiful body that has carried me through a lot.

Consistency doesn’t mean doing the same thing every day. It means staying engaged, even when the plan needs to change.

How I check in with my body before training

Before I train, a run, a swim, even an everyday walk, I pause — sometimes for just a minute — and ask a few quiet questions:

• How did I sleep?
• What’s my energy level right now?
• Do I feel grounded or scattered?
• Is there tension, heaviness, or pain I need to respect?
• What does my blood sugar tell me today?

This isn’t a checklist designed to talk myself out of movement. It’s a way of tuning in before I decide how to move.

I’ve learned that ignoring these signals doesn’t make them go away. It just postpones the reckoning. Postponing the reckoning does not serve me well.

Adjusting intensity, not just distance

One of the most powerful shifts I’ve made is learning that adjustment doesn’t always mean stopping.

Sometimes it means slowing down.

If speed work feels like too much, I run easy. If my heart rate climbs too quickly, I back off. Effort becomes my guide instead of pace.

There was a time when this felt like cheating. Now it feels like wisdom.

Running slower when my body needs it has allowed me to run longer — not just in miles, but in years.

Changing the modality without guilt

Some days, running simply isn’t the right choice. On those days, I remind myself that I’m an endurance athlete, not just a runner.

For example, this past week my body started sneezing nonstop, and my sinuses quickly clogged up. I did two covid tests, to make sure I wasn’t navigating something serious. Thankfully over a few days, both tests came back negative. 

I made the wise decision not to do my usual long Saturday run. I felt sadness about the decision, as I love seeing and talking with my run friends. Not doing the group run meant I wouldn’t see them. 

Instead, I took a long walk with my dog Sam and I paid close attention to the clouds in the blue sky. I enjoyed the way the trees stand tall and stark in the snow without their winter leaves.  

Swimming, walking, strength training, mobility work — these aren’t consolation prizes. They are ways of staying connected to movement while honoring my body’s current reality.

I used to believe that if I didn’t run, the day didn’t count. Now I know better. The body doesn’t recognize labels; it recognizes care.

Shortening the session

I used to think that if I couldn’t do the full workout, I might as well skip it entirely.

Now I know that twenty mindful movement minutes can be more valuable than an hour spent forcing my way through discomfort.

Shorter sessions allow me to show up without overreaching. They build trust — the kind that says, I’ll listen to you next time, too.

Prioritizing recovery as part of training

Recovery used to feel like an interruption. Now it feels like an investment. After all, when you live with a chronic illness, investing in recovery can make all the difference.

Rest days, stretching, sleep, fueling — these aren’t signs that I’m falling behind. They are how I stay in the game.

I’ve learned that recovery isn’t what you do when you’re broken. It’s what keeps you whole.

Managing the mental side of adjustment

The hardest part of adjusting training isn’t physical. It’s mental.

It’s letting go of rigid expectations. It’s releasing the need to prove something — to myself or anyone else. It’s trusting that honoring today’s limits doesn’t erase tomorrow’s possibilities.

I’ve had to change the way I talk to myself. Instead of You’re falling behind, I practice You’re paying attention.

That shift has been transformative.

What this has taught me about goals

I still set goals. If you know me at all, you know I love them. I still love start lines and finish lines. I still train with intention.

But I hold my goals differently now.

They’re living things — shaped by experience, health, and time. Progress isn’t just measured in miles or medals. It’s measured in awareness, resilience, and self-respect.

Listening to my body hasn’t made me less disciplined. It’s made me more sustainable. At this stage of my life, sustainability means the world to me. 

Closing: an invitation to listen

If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this: your body is not working against you. It’s working with you — even when the message is inconvenient.

Learning to adjust training when health fluctuates is a practice. It takes time. It takes patience. And it takes a willingness to let go of old stories about toughness and control.

But on the other side of that letting go is something powerful: trust.

If you’re navigating your own fluctuations — physical, emotional, or otherwise — I hope you’ll give yourself permission to listen. Not as a sign of weakness, but as an act of wisdom.

I’d love to hear how you adjust when life intervenes. 

What signals do you listen for? What have you learned along the way?