A few Saturdays ago, I crossed the finish line at a parkrun and checked my watch with the usual mix of hope and resignation that comes with chronic illness. The numbers stared back at me: I had hit the exact average time for this particular parkrun. Not a personal best, not a time that would make anyone else look twice, but something far more precious—I was perfectly, wonderfully average.

For someone living with fibromyalgia and other chronic illnesses, average feels like extraordinary.

Redefining Victory

We live in a culture obsessed with exceptional. Social media feeds often overflow with personal bests, breakthrough moments, and triumph stories. It often feels like a case of if you’re not winning, improving, or exceeding expectations, you’re somehow falling short. But what happens when your body operates by different rules? When chronic illness rewrites the definition of what constitutes an achievement?

For those of us managing conditions like fibromyalgia, ME, arthritis, or countless other invisible illnesses, showing up is often the victory. Lacing up running shoes when every joint aches, stepping outside when fatigue feels like you’re carrying a fridge on your back (total respect to those runners you see completing marathons with an actual fridge on their back!), completing the distance when your body whispers “stop”—these are acts of quiet rebellion against limitations.

The Comparison Trap

When you’re managing chronic illness, comparison becomes a dangerous game. There’s the obvious comparison to others—watching people effortlessly achieve what requires enormous effort from you. But there’s also the subtler, more insidious comparison to your former self. The person you were before diagnosis, before symptoms, before life became measured in spoons and good days versus bad days.

Celebrating average means stepping away from both types of comparison. It means honouring where you are right now, with the body you have right now, under the circumstances you’re currently navigating. It means recognising that your average represents a huge amount of more courage, determination, and self-care.

Small Victories, Big Impact

Chronic illness teaches you to find the small joys. The day when the brain fog lifts just enough to feel clear-headed. The morning when stiffness and pain doesn’t dominate the first hour of waking. The afternoon when energy levels allow for one extra task. These aren’t the victories that make headlines, but they’re the ones that make life a little more tolerable.

My average parkrun time represents lots of hidden and careful management. Pacing myself during the week to ensure I had enough energy. Choosing rest over other obligations to preserve resources. Managing medications, sleep schedules, and stress levels so that I could show up on the Saturday.

Permission to Celebrate

So often, we minimize our achievements when living with chronic illness. “I only managed to…” or “It’s not much, but…” become frequent prefixes to our accomplishments. I think many of us have a tendency to internalise the message that struggles should be private and victories should be significant to warrant attention.

But what if we gave ourselves permission to celebrate average? What if we acknowledged that sometimes, showing up is enough? What if we recognized that our version of ordinary might actually be quite extraordinary?

Building a New Narrative

The narrative around chronic illness often focuses on limitation, on what we cannot do. While it’s important to acknowledge real challenges, there’s power in also highlighting what we can do, even when it looks different from societal expectations.

Being average can tell a story of adaptation, persistence, and self-compassion, of the careful balance between pushing boundaries and respecting limits. Average can represent not giving up on activities that bring joy, even when they require more effort than they once did.

If you’re reading this while managing your own chronic condition, know that your victories matter—all of them. The days you get out of bed when everything hurts. The times you maintain relationships when it would be so much easier to hide away. The moments you choose hope over despair.

Average is not settling for less than. It’s not giving up. It’s not a consolation prize.

Average is showing up with courage. It’s adapting and finding ways to participate in life on your own terms.

In a world that celebrates the exceptional, sometimes the most revolutionary thing you can do is embrace being beautifully, completely, triumphantly average.