The only journey is the journey within.
~Rainer Maria Rilke
I’ll never forget the day that running changed my life. On September 18, 2010, I got into a huge fight with my fiancé. Angrily, I got dressed in the only sub-par workout clothes I owned, and I stormed out of the house in the heat of battle. I just had to get away! I took off down the street at a full sprint.
I was 70 pounds overweight and very unhealthy. My body just couldn’t keep up with the emotions I was feeling. I was so angry with him, and running it out suddenly felt like the only way to find comfort. After about a half-block, I was out of breath, and it felt like my chest was caving in. Not only was I still angry with him, but I was angry with myself, too. The world felt so small, and I had so much frustration. I couldn’t see straight, and I couldn’t hear anything except myself gasping for air and my heartbeat pounding in my ears.
In that dark and somewhat embarrassing moment, I felt my spirit sing. I may have been very overweight and completely out of shape, but I could clearly see a way out. I saw a version of the person I knew I could be. I felt for the person who had somehow gotten lost deep beneath the emotional eating, the apathy for life, and turmoil. It was a strange juxtaposition between the life I’d been living and the life I felt I should have been living all along. Capturing my emotions and running with them made me feel freer than I’d ever felt before.
I remember clearly getting to the end of a three-quarter-mile strip from my house and collapsing onto the sidewalk, and then bursting into tears. Finally, I began to grieve. I was grieving for a childhood laden with trauma, and a young adulthood rife with the development of unhealthy coping mechanisms. Then, out of nowhere and clear as day, I saw a vision of who was living underneath all the physical and emotional baggage. I checked in with myself for the first time, maybe ever.
Who was I? Who did I want to be? How was I going to get there? How had things in my life gotten so convoluted? I felt like I’d been playing someone else’s role in a play. I never really fit in. Until that run, I’d been slipping further and further into depression and bitterness; I’d been distancing myself from my potential.
After that night, I ran almost every night. Every step helped undo the years of hurt and abuse. After a time, I lost 70 pounds, found the courage to leave my fiancé, found my voice, and finally became the person hiding underneath.
I have grown so much since that time. Every step I’ve taken has moved me forward. The catharsis of that night still echoes across my life every single day. Nothing offers stark perspective quite like racing down the road as fast as your legs can carry you in the middle of the night. Nothing allows your internal voice to become louder than when there’s only the sound of your feet plodding down the pavement. In that moment, I finally heard my inner self crying out for love, help, and acceptance.
My life has been changed indelibly. Now, I’ve explored most avenues that fitness has to offer. I have run 5Ks, a 10K, a half marathon, and tons of obstacle races. I’ve lifted weights, cycled, and done HIIT and CrossFit. In all of that, I can’t help but reminisce about the night when running saved my life.
Now a personal trainer, I always tell my clients, “If I can do it, so can you.” Truer words have never been spoken. Getting out there and taking those first few brave steps into the future became my saving grace. Running will always hold a very sacred place in my heart.
— Elizabeth Calcutt —