Dear Running
An Open Letter on Becoming and Coming Out
Dear Running,
We met in winter, just after my 34th birthday. Looking back, I didn’t like you much at first. It was quite uncomfortable, getting to know you, for this meek-minded, soft body. Notwithstanding, you forged a connection. Through suffering, you convinced me to persist; you were wise to something that I hadn’t yet realized.
Next winter we will celebrate our tenth anniversary. Our relationship, just as others, takes work. Sometimes we disagree. You tell me I’ve got more in the tank. I respond in disbelief. When the weather is ugly, or I want to stay home, you insist that I’ll feel better after we’ve spent time together. To these ends, you are usually correct. In just shy of a decade, you have seeped into my blood, reshaped me on a cellular level and changed my brain chemistry for the better. You’ve chiseled my face, expanded my family and saved me from myself. Your lessons have been pervasive and essential to my wellbeing. It is with sincere thankfulness that I reflect on how you have reframed my world for the better.
PHASE ONE, BEFORE THE RUN: Anxiety plagued me even as a child. My fears and worries were many. At times, they consumed me. I remember making myself sick as I lay awake in bed with morbid thoughts. I engaged in rituals to reduce my panic. All of my struggles came back to one central theme: a sense of feeling out of control.
Upon puberty, as for many girls, self-image became a focal point. Self-loathing poisoned my brain. Nevertheless, I remained innocuous and played in the background; no one knew the inner reality that I contended with daily. I followed a benign path and avoided risk. Never in search of my limits and afraid to dream big, I arrived as an insipid adult.
My trajectory was traditional and expected: graduate college and get married. Then, after two miscarriages and years of infertility, I felt my body fail me in the most basic of biological functions. During this time, my anxiety and depression ballooned to their ugliest point. A weighted vest of anger, jealousy, and disgust cumbered every waking moment. Despite being surrounded by family, I felt alone and isolated. My depression brought me to dangerous lows where I crafted letters to each of my immediate family in contemplation of the end.
The happiest outcome of that chapter led me to adopt my amazing daughter. It was years before I was to meet her, all the while unknowing that the greatest of emotional challenges were leading me to the child that I was meant to parent. In hindsight, the long journey to motherhood was my first real taste of what it meant to endure and be resilient.
After adopting my daughter, I was confused by the extreme happiness and despair that co-existed in my body. Despite my struggles with mental health throughout my adulthood, I always remained functional. This internal war was raging unbeknownst to even my closet family members. Still, the baseline for my “lows” brought me to a scary new level of self-loathing during the years that I faced infertility. The swing was not something I could shake. I had my beautiful baby daughter, but depression and anxiety still hung heavy in my daily life.
PHASE TWO, LIFE WITH YOU: In contemplating this next phase, I decided to prioritize my physical fitness. My parents, who lived downstairs, had recently purchased a treadmill. It seemed simple enough to give it a go. At age 34, I bought my first pair of running sneakers. Nothing could have prepared me for the significance of this decision.
My muscles and mind were weak. Your response was emphatic: “Challenge accepted.” You didn’t mind that I was not an athlete in high school or college. Instead, you helped me to find some surprising verve in my legs and lungs. We enjoyed race adventures which filled me with the alien surge of competition. Fast forward to 2014, and I found myself pushing through anxiety and self-doubt to compete both regionally, on the road, and nationally in Master’s USATF indoor track. During these years, I grew to crave your company and endorphins. More important, because of you, I developed my self-efficacy and courage.
Until now, I was angry at my body. I felt it had failed me in every context from form to function. Together, through competition, we began to erase the negative feelings of failure. Then, you handed me the pencil and insisted that I fill that open space with the possibility of success. For the first time, with cautious optimism, I believed in my ability to achieve.
Honestly, I have “settled” more often in my life than I prefer to admit. However, when I am with you, settling is not an option. Life happens whether you choose the path of least resistance or push yourself toward lofty goals. Through you, I’m finally learning to choose the latter.
Our miles benefitted my body and brain chemistry. I could feel it and see it. Until you, I never looked into a mirror and felt good about the reflection. Amazingly, in glimpses, it began to happen. Now, when I pull my hair up and slip into running clothes, it is the closest I get to self-admiration. I liken it to Superman and the phone booth: For him, it was mortal to superhero. For me, it is feeble and ineffective to durable and driven. Want to make me smile? Tell me I look like a runner. It works every time. You allow me to see myself as unique and maybe even — talented.
Still, we had yet to face our most profound test. The ferocity of this obstacle had life-wrecking potential: my decision to come out as a lesbian. It took me until my adult life to feel comfortable in my skin in more ways than one. There was always something missing; a sense that I was walking a path parallel to myself and not within my footsteps. Was this another consequence of settling? Had I failed again? From the outside, I built this beautiful life. On the inside, I felt locked in. Unfortunately, at this point, acceptance required me to risk hurting the ones I loved the most. My husband, my daughter, even my parents, they all stood to be cut by my avowal. To stifle meant a painful existence of self-rejection. It was not the example I wanted to set for my child.
Unconsciously, our time on the roads became a place to break out, process and feel free. Even today, when I am pushing through pain or passing away the miles, I am my most authentic self. You put me in the driver’s seat as the only one impacted by my decisions. To run: fast or slow, long or short, with intention or distraction, my best or less: I am the only one who stands to gain or lose from my choices. What’s more, through racing, you bring a sense of drive, success, and confidence that was lacking from my “parallel” life.
In January 2013, you introduced me to a training partner and fellow competitor. Over the next few years, and hundreds of miles together, we fell in love. Ultimately, after thousands of footfalls and hours of processing, I decided to share my truth. The level of fear was equivalent to free jumping off of a massive cliff. However, I arrived intact and stronger than ever. As a result, I am more present and grounded in reality. My wife and I married in October 2017. Today, love surrounds my daughter from her two moms and her dad.
Injury has me on the sidelines as I write this letter. Our visits are restricted; I am on crutches, and all workouts are in the pool. Cathartic as writing can be, this letter is more of a life preserver, as I can feel my mental demons in the wait. Through the climb of recovery, the demons try to convince me that it will be easier to let you go. They nudge and whisper, “You’re out of your league. Running was too good for you. Let it go, and face the grieving process. Get back to living a ‘normal’ life.” Sometimes there are moments when I get swallowed up and wish I had never found you in the first place.
The truth is, it takes guts to have lofty goals: the kind of ambitions that scare and exhilarate you all at once. It takes endurance to face mental demons time and time again. However, the memories of what I have accomplished and the resilience that I have acquired through our relationship are more potent than those demons. When I relive the emotions of my successes, I feel the swell of the competitor — the part of me that I hadn’t met until you came into my adult life. This injury is just another challenge. I believe in my body’s healing capacity. I will stay focused and engaged in all that will be required to get back to our routine. Our kinship has afforded me that perspective. It is worth every ounce of effort spent on recovery to ensure that I don’t lose your companionship.
All in all, without you, I am not sure where I would be today. It’s not an exaggeration to say that you allow me to live my fullest life. I am so thankful for all you do to better my body, mind, and soul. You bring me tears of frustration but even more tears of joy. You improve my mental and physical health. You dare me to find self-confidence and grit. You introduce me to new friends and open doors for exciting opportunities. You demand that I put it all on the line and live in the moment. Perhaps the benefit that I treasure most is how you teach me to like myself. I hope we can grow old together and always reflect on the lessons learned and memories made in each other’s company. Thank you for being a friend.
With utmost gratitude,
Dawn McGrath
