I started long-distance running when I was going through a breakup in 2008. Running quickly became a tool for me to process emotions. When the going got tough, I would go for a run; when I felt off, I would go for a run; when I was mad, I would go for a run; when I was sad, I would go for a run, when I simply didn’t know what to do, I would go for a run. Before I knew it, I hit 10-15 miles between classes during college. Running became something I just did. Daily. I didn’t think about entering races or getting competitive about it. I just did it. Running was as crucial as eating and sleeping for me. A solo endeavor that kept me sane. It transformed my nervous energy and allowed space for me to work out problems. It was my meditation, indeed. By my mid-20s, “going for a run” became so integral in my life that I couldn’t imagine my life without it. Running time was permanently blocked out into all my days. I would go insane without it. What would happen if I couldn’t run anymore?
After moving to LA in 2024, I suspected my long-distance streak was ending when I experienced fatigue almost immediately after starting a run. I was drained after long runs, almost incapacitated. Unwilling to surrender to the needs my body was communicating, I pushed through the discomfort for months, trying to stay the course. Calf stiffness and lower back pain showed up, too. I ended a lot of runs in tears for fear that running was over for me. I just couldn’t part with it. Running was my best friend and my source of healing and independence. By the end of this slow downfall, I could only squeeze out three-mile runs here and there. My body was rejecting running, but my mind held on for dear life.
By March 2025, I had to officially break up with running. Intuitively, I knew it. My mind finally agreed with my body; I just couldn’t run anymore (or, for now, more will be revealed). My 17-year-long relationship with running was winding down. My heart was broken like my first breakup, the catalyst that started this whole running ordeal. Over the years, running brought me joy and transformed my life trajectory. I get emotional talking about running because it was my essence for so long; it literally “ran” my life. I saw cool places while traveling because of running, I made friends running, but most importantly, I learned who I was and who I wanted to become because of running. Running made me feel alive and was a gift that helped me get and stay sober. Running had been my lifeline.
Have I gone insane without running? No. Has it been tough? Yes. I have succumbed to my emotions without running as an immediate tool. I’ve had to rewire myself. My immediate run response is no longer available. I’ve had to find other ways to process things, as running is no longer the source. I’ve experienced increased sadness and anxiety as I’m not getting my daily drip of serotonin and dopamine. I’ve also started to experience migraines as a result. It’s crazy how our bodies respond to change. My body and heart miss the runs, but I know this is a call to evolve.
Being forced to change is a bit different than naturally evolving. I’m still a 36-year-old who enjoys learning lessons the hard way as I typically am forced into changing. I won’t go down without a fight! My inability to run means new opportunities for my body, mind, and spirit. After all, I would love to discover what else I can excel at. Do I want to run forever and never find out what I may also be capable of? I’m learning to change with the tides and listen when my body roars. I’ve picked up long walks (so awkward and boring at first), weight training, and rollerblading. I’m enjoying casual bike rides, too. What I am most excited to try is swimming. I think lap swimming could be it for me. Possibly some tennis, too. Meditation helps with the loud mind.
Running was part of my life during the years I needed it most. Maybe I need it a little less now and maybe slowing down will let more of what I need in. It feels good to free up some time. Running sure took up a lot. It feels good to live with the “less is more” mindset.
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