The Hidden Lesson: Run For Your Life
A story of grit
Fitness is my escape. It allows me to be free, in a sense. Free of the demands of medical school, free of life stressors, free of responsibilities, and just free from being pulled in so many directions. I believe there are few things in our lives that are solely for us. We work at jobs for a company, and we study for class for a grade and graduation, but fitness can only really affect you and no one else. The personal journey of freedom that fitness gives me is irreplaceable and provides a base to stand on to shoulder the responsibilities of life. That’s a lot of pressure and identity tied to one aspect of my life. What would happen if I lost that? Sadly, this is where our story begins.
Prior to the pandemic, I was a gym rat. Four, five, sometimes six times a week, I was in the gym. Back, chest, legs, shoulders, arms, back, chest, legs, shoulders, arms. The muscle groups rotated through like clockwork, strategically organized to maximize freshness and minimize overlapping fatigue.
My favorite was bringing people along. At least once a week, I brought a friend, more often than not a newbie, and we talked about fitness and nutrition, and I taught them each exercise. On the occasion they had prior experience, they showed me their sets and I learned. It was a great system and some of my closest friends came out of those sessions. I had my escape, and it was covered in iron and sweaty mats.
The pandemic closed all the gyms and my father’s health was declining. We cannot prepare for the stressors in our lives. Rather, we hope we will be strong enough to carry them when they do eventually weigh us down. I wasn’t strong enough yet.
In the new normal, I fell back on an old hobby: running. I ran in high school, spending two years on the track team, specializing in the mile and 2-mile races. It wasn’t much, but I had no other choice. I took up the challenge of running my first half-marathon in the summer of 2020. The most I had ever done before was a 5-mile long run, and it was rough, to say the least, but I needed the escape, I needed my therapy, so I ran.
This exploded for me. Four, five, sometimes six times a week I was running. Easy run, sprints, easy run, long run, easy run, sprints, easy run, long run. The training sessions were balanced and spaced, including hours of stretching and flexibility work outside of the daily runs. It took some convincing, but I got a few friends to the track a few times, talking training, goals, and motivations. I proceeded to run three marathons. I was known as “the crazy guy who runs 20 miles a day.” They weren’t that far off, and I enjoyed my new title of “runner boy.” Running became a core aspect of my identity, an identity that will be with me for the rest of my life. But even the strongest of dreams can turn into nightmares in a second.
I got hurt. Not like that, but mentally. Call it the strain of medical school, the broken leg of life stressors, or the internal cognitive dissonance between goals and reality. Call it whatever you want, but something changed. I had no interest. I felt like despite the miles and miles I’d run, the endless laps in the pool, or the hours in the saddle peddling had gone to waste. Have you ever had something so core to yourself taken away from you, but you don’t fully understand what is happening? It was as if I was watching the balloon float away from my outstretched hand, tunnel-visioned to the world around, with one sole desire to have back what I had lost.
This, of course, progressed to a systemic disease, infecting my school work and life. Friends and romantic relationships started to end. I started failing exams. I fell into depression, necessitating mental health counseling services and medication, hoping what I lost can be found in a pill and talk therapy. I knew it was useless because I knew what I desired. I longed for my identity back, but I wasn’t strong enough. I smell the iron and sweaty mats.
I’m still recovering. I don’t know if I’m better, reborn, or some other third thing. I’ve found closer friends. I’ve found relationships that bring me joy, giving me relief and bliss for the first time in a while, as if I’ve arrived at my gate in the airport in the nick of time, ready for a much-needed vacation, or maybe the start of a brand new life.
My shoes need some dusting off, and I’m itching for a comeback. A fire grows brighter and hotter than the north star inside of me with a conviction beyond any of my previous goals. I’m ready for the chapter, and it’s called Run For Your Life.
