Running for Redemption

I was born to run. Don’t get me wrong, I am no Shalane Flanagan, but my brain is wired for movement. I’ve been that way since I was little. It took some time, however, to figure out that running was the medicine for my restless energy. I first noticed the freedom and confidence I felt with running in elementary school.  It was in the mile run for PE class. I had a crush on a boy named Ryan and I was chasing him down. I am not sure why I thought this would endear me to him (could explain my lack of boyfriends for much of my school years), but I had this fire inside me that seemed to light up whenever I got the chance to test my mind and my body through running.

I joined the track team in middle school and became obsessed with Jackie Joyner-Kersee. My love for running grew and I joined cross-country in high school. I had done many sports in middle school, but cross-country was different from anything I had experienced. The camaraderie was unmatched, perhaps due to the shared pain and triumph we felt in practices and races. I made some great friends and some great memories. I decided I wanted to continue running in college.

I ended up at Lawrence University, a small Division III school in Northeastern Wisconsin. The school was on trimesters, so preseason was three glorious weeks of nothing but running, eating, and sleeping. I soon discovered, however, that collegiate running was going to be much more difficult than high school cross-country. Thankfully, I was part of a great team and we had tons of fun together. There was more teamwork and encouragement than competition or comparing. I still noticed, however, that I seemed more built for power and speed than endurance. I longed for track season to arrive, where I felt I could really shine.

The season went well and, to top it off, I started dating my future husband. We had been hanging out a lot since the fall, but were both too shy to make a move for a while. He was my rock throughout college (still is) as we navigated the pressures of balancing academics and athletics while figuring out what we wanted our futures to look like. When I felt overwhelmed and thought I could not handle the pressure of winning another conference race or qualifying for nationals, he supported me. He traveled all the way to New York our senior year when I made it to outdoor nationals for track. It was my final race in college and it ended in heartbreak because I completely choked. I took dead last and vanished after the race so that I could be alone to grieve. I did not want to see anyone or talk to anyone. When I was ready to talk again, Peter was the first person I wanted to see.

He comforted me and helped me remember all the great races and great memories from the last four years and told me he was still proud of me. I am not sure if he has any idea what that meant to me at the time.

After college, I took some time off from racing to enjoy not having someone else dictate how and when I would run or work out. I continued running, however, and in 2005, I decided to run a marathon. I had always considered myself a middle distance runner more than a long distance runner, so I decided I needed some extra motivation to complete the training. I signed up for Leukemia and Lymphoma Society’s Team in Training. I didn’t participate in many of the team practices, however, and actually ran most of my training runs on the treadmill. In hindsight, my training was not very smart. At the time, however, I just wanted to finish as close to four hours as possible. Race day came and I felt ready, but hadn’t developed a good nutrition plan because I didn’t realize the importance of this at the time. I hit the wall around mile 20 and slugged along until the end, with a few walk breaks due to muscle cramps. I felt terrible after the race for around 10 days. I told myself I would never run another marathon.

I continued running, however, even throughout my pregnancy with my daughter, who was born in November of 2008. I did a few small races here and there, but nothing serious. In 2011, I decided to train for my first half marathon. All went well and I ran a great race, even better than I set out to run. I was excited about the prospect of running more half marathons, but soon found out I was pregnant. Racing went on the back burner, but again, I ran throughout my pregnancy and my son was born in March of 2012. Life was pretty crazy for those first couple years as we adjusted to having two children and I completed graduate school. Peter also changed jobs and we moved to a different part of the state. We joined the YMCA in our new town and loved it there. I started going to spin classes, which got me interested in cycling. I ended up purchasing a used road bike on Craigslist and did a few duathlons over the next year. Eventually, though, I set my sights on another big goal. In the spring of 2014, I decided to train for another half marathon. I hired my brother-in-law as a coach and felt prepared to put in the work to run a PR. My training was derailed, however, when I pulled my groin muscle during an early morning track workout. I injured it in the middle of the workout and, like a stubborn fool, grit my teeth and finished the workout. To make matters worse, I tried to come back too soon by racing a 10K before it healed, which aggravated the injury, leading me to seek physical therapy.

My first trip to the physical therapy clinic was the beginning of a difficult journey for me. I hadn’t experienced a serious running injury since high school and I felt lost. My PT was awesome and even inspired me to train for my first triathlon when I realized I would not be healed in time for the half marathon. I began swimming and felt completely awkward about it, but I slowly improved. Training for my triathlon provided a good outlet and helpful cross training while my injury healed. I wanted so desperately to make a strong comeback, however, I began obsessing about what I ate and how much I weighed. I did indeed come back strong, finishing well in my sprint triathlon and running some great races that fall, earning PRs in both the 10K and the half marathon.

Unfortunately, I attributed my success to my weight rather than my hard work and newfound confidence. Fueled by this lucky streak, I decided it was time to run another marathon. This time, though, I would do it right. I set my sights on a BQ and a one hour PR. Crazy, I know, but I can get that way (just ask my husband). I hired a coach through Training Peaks and pushed myself more than I had since college. When race day came in June of 2015, I was fired up. I was going to conquer Grandma’s Marathon. I ran very well, beating my goal time and surpassing a BQ by more than twenty minutes. The whole experience was amazing and I loved it. I recovered well and now I had Boston to look forward to and another lofty goal.

To most people, training for the Boston Marathon and a Half Ironman triathlon seemed like admirable endeavors, but very few people knew the pain I was feeling and the damage I was causing to my body. I was so consumed by my desire to prove to myself and others that I was good enough that I wasn’t nourishing my body the way I should have been. I obsessed about everything I ate and meticulously logged my workouts, all while rigidly following my training plan. I was tired nearly all the time, but I kept going because I felt I had to accomplish these goals to prove my athleticism. When race day finally arrived in April of 2016, I did not feel that fresh, bouncy, “I’ve just been tapering” feeling. I felt anxious, excited, scared, and what seemed like every emotion under the sun. I suffered some painful muscle cramps during the race, but pushed through the pain and finished with a respectable time, but not the time I had wanted. The aftermath of the race was terrible. I felt physically and emotionally drained and struggled to accept that the outcome of my race was largely due to my eating disorder. This denial and anger caused a rift with my coach and we parted ways. I had three months to shift gears and prepare myself to swim 1.2 miles, bike 56, and run 13.1. The physical and mental strain became so heavy that I began to engage more heavily in my eating disorder and refused to heed the advice of others to back off or go easy on myself. I was still looking for redemption in all the wrong places.

I continued my training and, though I restored some of my weight, I continued to harm myself. I felt like I couldn’t stop because, if I did, I would be forced to face all of my fears and inadequacies. I completed the Half Ironman and went into treatment for my eating disorder less than two weeks later.

For five weeks, I did not exercise unless it was short, leisurely walks or bike rides with my family. I missed running like crazy, but I took advantage of the opportunity to eat well, sleep well, and communicate my true feelings as much as possible. In the back of mind, though, I still planned to return to racing in 2017. My treatment team, however, strongly advised me to take the whole year off from racing. This would mean 18 months of no races, which seemed unfathomable at the time. I could not wrap my brain around how I would feel without a training plan or a goal race. Like any goal, however, I decided to pursue it wholeheartedly. I deleted my fitness apps, gave my scale and my Garmin to my husband for safekeeping, and moved forward. I eased back into running, simply for the joy it brings. I wore no watch, no headphones, and followed my body’s cues for how far and how often I would run. It was hard at first, but with each passing week, I felt more at peace. I remembered why I loved running in the first place. I noticed my surroundings more often and I appreciated each run as a unique experience rather than a step towards a goal or a mark on my to-do list. I have had a lot of time this year to reflect on why I run and, while I do not think it could ever truly be summarized in words, here are a few reasons:

I run to feel strong.

I run to feel confident.

I run to show my children how to take care of your body.

I run to feel God’s presence.

I run because I can.

I run to connect my heart, mind, and body.

I run because it allows me to be my best self.