April 11, 2021

On the Run

By Mary Murphy

Growing up in an athletic family, my participation in club sports was not only encouraged as a child – it was expected. From t-ball, to soccer, to swimming, to volleyball, I threw myself into the world of sports where my competitive nature was anything but lacking. When high school rolled around and it was time to register for fall athletics, I hesitantly but excitedly signed up for cross country with a group of my friends. While I had never been a part of a cross country team before, I had gone for runs around my neighborhood plenty of times. How hard could it really be? Let’s just say that after the first practice, I soon realized the answer to this foolish question.

From 6am practices before the sun even rose to the grueling 5 mile runs, cross country pushed me like no other sport had before. While I worked hard to improve, I was by no means a top runner on the team and had to learn to accept that. Though running did not come as easily to me as other sports had previously, I focused less on how I was ranking in meets and more on how running made me feel: free. As I would work off of the energy of my teammates, I realized how the physical aspect of running is only half of it. The other half is mental, and I had to acquire the skills of self-discipline in order to push myself through all the pain and innumerable blisters.

While practices and meets felt interminable at times, to my surprise, I continued to go for runs in my spare time after the season concluded. As cliche as it sounds, running became my escape. It was my way of coping with my anxiety in a healthy manner.

Before arriving at college, I promised myself that I would continue to run. Yet as I was thrown into the mix of classes and making new friends, I shut down. As the weather became frigid and first semester turned into second, I became a hermit couped up in my room. While I loved watching the pale snow fall from my window, I failed to realize how seasonal depression was gripping me. Coming from California, I had always assumed seasonal depression was a myth. It’s not.

Yet just as my feelings of isolation started to suffocate my well-being, the weather suddenly shifted as the sun crept out of its shadows. I remember a particular morning- a turning point if you will- when I checked the weather app to see “70 degrees” displayed on the screen. Was I looking at the Ann Arbor forecast? Unsure of whether or not I was dreaming, I opened my window and let the sunshine fall upon my skin. As I began to get ready for the day, I saw my running shoes in the corner staring me in the face. Without leaving any time to think twice, I threw on my tank top and shorts, brought my white running shoes out of retirement, and headed outside. With no particular destination in mind and no phone to accompany me, I just went.

As all of my stress began to fade with each stride I took, I let my mind wander with the swaying trees as I listened to rhythm of my feet hitting the concrete. I felt at ease. While I couldn’t tell you how far I ran that day, all I know is that it made me feel like myself for the first time in a long time. My ability to get back into running seemed to parallel with the arrival of spring, and it reminded me that every negative feeling passes, even when it seems like it won’t.

Edited By Emilly Wyngarden