I started running when I was about 16 years old. I signed up for a 10K, barely trained and completed it. Then I thought, if I can do this without really being prepared, what could I do with practice and training?

After that, I ran cross country and track in high school and college. I loved it, especially cross country: the camaraderie of being on a team; the cadence and rhythm of a long run; being outside; watching the seasons change; and, most of all, the way I felt in my body. I connected with a sense of power, strength and endurance that I had not known I had.  

I stayed with it for over a decade. It was the one steady thing in my life as I changed jobs, moved around the country and explored who I was. It felt therapeutic and was part of my identity: “I am a runner.”

 However, as is commonly known, running is hard on your body. At some point, as I was dealing with health issues and body pains, it didn’t feel good anymore and I worried I was hurting myself. It was really hard to give it up and let this part of me go, but I did because I felt I had to. Over the course of about 8 or 9 years, I tried returning to it here and there, but I never took to it the same way. I was concerned about the impact it had on my knees and joints and didn’t want to push it.

I looked for other ways to feel good in my body, other activities that would connect me with a sense of well-being, strength and power.

Hiking was my closest substitute, though not quite the same. At times, when I am hiking on a trail for miles, I can get into a similar rhythm and feel something akin to the satisfaction of running. In those moments, I think to myself, “Look at the distance I have traveled with the power of my legs, lungs and body.”

Then, through Shake Your Soul: The Yoga of Dance, I learned to connect to my body in a different way. I practiced listening to its subtle messages and my impulses to move. I learned how to let my body lead the way, moving from within instead of with my mind. I was used to using my willpower to tell my body what to do. This was something new and powerful; it has been healing on many levels (along with years of body-center psychotherapy, as client, student and practitioner). Still, part of me has continued to miss the experience of running.

Another Chance

Fast-forward to the beginning of this year. As part of my part-time job working with young adults with learning differences, I take a group of students to a local gym. While they work out, I have the opportunity to exercise, as well. I was not into it at first; I felt somewhat self-conscious and out of place. Partly to occupy myself when the students didn’t need me and partly to encourage them (“walk the talk,” so to speak), I started using some of the exercise equipment.

Something in me began to shift. Week to week, I noticed feeling stronger. I could sit at the same machine and go faster and further with less effort. And then I realized I was enjoying it! I started to find my rhythm and came into a similar feeling of satisfaction and strength that I had had when running.

I admit if I were on my own, I probably wouldn’t have kept at it or gotten through the initial “don’t want to,” “this feels hard,” feelings. I didn’t want to “make” myself work out or do it from a place of pressure and needing to be different or stronger. But as I kept at it, I was able come from a different place. I could feel my body, feel my strength, feel my muscles and my legs, feel my heart rate increase and my breath become heavy. And I could feel the sense of accomplishment at having stayed with it.

Then a few weeks ago, I tried running on the treadmill. As an experiment, I ran for only a few minutes. I was elated. It felt hard, but it also felt great. I felt like I could run and not hurt myself, as long as I took it slowly and paid attention to my body.

I don’t know that I will ever be a runner again in the same way I once was. My body might not be up for. Still, to have that feeling of moving my body in a familiar way, even if only for a few minutes at a time, was incredible. I felt so alive in those moments. I’m not sure I believed it was possible to feel that way running again.

Perhaps the biggest difference between me today and me at 16 or 26 is that I am more connected to my body. I am gentler with myself. I am more attuned and less likely to push through a message of pain. An interesting thing I have been trying is to notice areas of discomfort as I run and see whether I can relax around it or let go of tension. As I do this, does anything change? Can I keep going? Is it time to rest and stop?

The beauty of practicing this on a treadmill is I can stop or slow down anytime. I don’t have to get to my destination or back to my starting point. I can pause. I can see how I feel and continue if I want. No pressure.

My biggest take away from this experience is that, as the title of this blog says, healing is possible. It may not look how we expect it to. It may be on the physical, emotional or spiritual level. We might not be aware of it as it is happening, but some day, down the line, we may look back and realize how far we have come.

Katherine Grigg, MPC, RSMT, offers a holistic approach to healing with roots in somatics, body psychotherapy, spirituality and mindful movement. She sees clients in Lenox, Massachusetts and over phone/video chat. Specializing in working with women and members of the LGBTQ+ community. Contact her for more information.