The Trails of our Lives: Steve

These are The Trails Of Our Lives, the stories of our adventures, our demons, our victories, in running and in life. If you're interested in participating, please email your story (how you started running, how you ended up on the trails, your struggles, your triumphs, your photos, anything you want to share) to jen@fromrobotwithlove.org.

This is the story of Steve, one of the most impressive and accomplished athletes and humans I’ve been fortunate enough to know. I have long admired his determination and strength but especially his kindness. He became my friend forever when he bought me an ice cream cone after a college cross country meet. But in all seriousness, he was a good friend at a time in my life when I really needed friends but didn’t realize it and still thought I had to get through everything alone. Steve was just there for me and I will forever appreciate it. 

Dear Running

By Steve Chabot

Dear Running,

I’m not quite sure how to say goodbye to something that has defined me for more than 25 years. Especially since it’s a physical act that I can no longer do. At least not in any way that I would find satisfying.

First, the necessary caveat. This letter (if you will) is purely an exercise in self-indulgence, and the topic is certainly a “first world problem.” I feel guilty just typing this, knowing I should instead be writing another letter about the inhumanity of our country’s current immigration practices. Or, you know, working on my online course for my superintendent’s certification, or answering some of the 200 emails I get each day, or doing a million other things for work. But all that said, and as cheesy as this feels, I’m going to write it anyway.

So, here goes.

The sport of running has been at the center of much of my life, and now I have to say goodbye to it. Running gave me a reason for being during times when I struggled to find any reasons at all. It smoothed out the edges of my creeping depression, obsessiveness, anxiety, jealousy, insecurity, and anger. It made me confident, and strong, and happy.

A look back:

1991

It was time to sign up for middle school sports and I was already sick of soccer. The only other fall sport option was something called “cross-country.” I asked my dad what it was and he said something about training for races. I had a vision of doing push ups in a gym, and signed up. My mom told me my grandfather had been the West Virginia state champion in hurdles, whatever those were. My older brother was fast, but he and I had a strained relationship. That was the summer he left for the Army, and it definitely felt like a big transition for me. I started running around the block with my dad a couple times a week after dinner.

I felt free.

1991 - 1994

Middle school cross-country and Track were great. I was faster than Sol, and I got to hang out with Hannah Jacobs and Yen Tran, two girls I had crushes on. By 8th grade I was one of the better runners on the team. It’s probably safe to say cross-country was the only good thing about middle school for me. I was a tiny kid, not even 5 feet tall, and very skinny. I had acne and got picked on a lot and didn’t have much confidence. But running gave me something I was fairly good at and the fitness helped me on the basketball court and I got to occasionally talk to girls. Running around the pond at Robin Hood Park became a near-daily ritual, and helped me exhaust my OCD tendencies and fall asleep at night, something that was a big problem in middle school.

1994 - 1998

High school cross-country and track (along with basketball and nordic skiing and tennis and the mountain bike club) pretty much defined me as a high schooler. That, and being a good student. I was relatively quiet, but drawn to sarcasm and the works of Ed Abbey, Tool, Vonnegut, and all the Seattle bands.

In high school I learned a lot about running from Coach Goldsmith, but it’s safe to say much of what he taught us about distance running didn’t really hit home for me until well after high school. I became obsessed with my times, even though I didn’t train consistently until my senior year. Senior year I had the incredibly bittersweet experience of ending up one spot too slow on a team that won the state championship. I had to watch my teammates win from the sidelines. All year I had floated between ranking 5th and 10th on a stacked team, but calf pain* slowed me down just enough towards the end of the season that, even as a senior, I didn’t get a top 7 spot at states. We were so deep that I was running sub-18’s and yet still not good enough for varsity. That will happen on a team with Mitch Leet and Justin Fyffe breaking 16 minutes on a regular basis, and a slew of talented kids. We must have had a dozen kids under 18:30, and we swept a number of meets. It was an odd experience to know you would be the top runner on half of the teams in the state, while at the same time struggling to crack the varsity squad on the team you’d devoted all of high school to. As cool as it was to see Keene High School in the Runner’s World national rankings, it didn’t feel like my team as much anymore.

Over time I accepted this, but I must admit I still can feel that ambivalence when the subject of state championships comes up. To be part of it, but not really part of it, is a feeling that spans across many areas of my life.

*I hesitated to break the flow of the above story by discussing the calf pain. Sophomore year we did the “12 minute run” in PE class and I just had to beat Brett Ouellette. I went all out with no warm-up. At practice that afternoon we did a speed workout, and I can still remember the feeling of tearing my right calf. It only took a few weeks to recover at that age, but little did I know that my poor flexibility, combined with this and other early calf and Achilles injuries, would continue to be issues for me for the next two decades.

1998 - 2002

I almost didn’t run in college. I spent the summer before my freshman year working construction, lifting weights, and working on my game. I was going to walk on to Hobart basketball. I’d be the manager if need be, and work my way on to the bench from there, and then into games by junior year. I was determined. Then I ruptured my right pectoralis. I had my first real relationship heartbreak. I got to Hobart and was no longer sure about basketball (another decision I regret to this day) or if I even wanted to do a sport anymore because my pec and shoulder were in such bad shape. Maybe I’d just study and party. I dove head first into both, that’s for sure. How many people party five nights a week and still end up graduating Summa Cum Laude? Yes, I’m bragging.

Then I met Justin Siuta and Andy Phillips across the hall, two guys on the cross-country team. I remember hanging out with them one Saturday night after they’d raced, and feeling jealous of their fatigue and pain. They had done something hard, something visceral. What I love most about running is that feeling of satisfaction, of contentment, of knowing you’ve put in a pure effort at one of life’s simplest acts. I showed up at practice Monday and introduced myself to Coach Ron “Live Fit” Fleury. In hindsight it was one of the best decisions I ever made in my life.

For the next four years being a collegiate runner was my #1 focus. I became good friends with Greg Stowell, the best runner I had ever met (until I met Mark Miller). I took his advice on “secret miles” and crept to upwards of 80 a week at times. I had always been a middle-of-the-pack runner, talentwise, but I am proud to say I got myself into the low 27’s for 8K. I’ve earned dozens of trophies from road races and team MVP and the like, but the slip of paper that says “Conference Runner of the Week” is the athletic honor I am most proud of in my entire life. I still vividly remember Coach Fleury walking into the locker room one day before practice and announcing it to the team: Conference Runner of the Week. Finally, a break from the coach’s awards and “Well, he showed up all the time” trophies! Everything in running felt very earned. Run a hard ten-miler one day, and do a hard track workout of 800m repeats the next day, all to improve by maybe 8 seconds at the next race. There is no hiding and no bullshit to running.

Hobart was great for me. I gained self-confidence. I did a life-changing term abroad in West Africa. I made lifelong friends (Hi Jen!) and I look forward to going back every time I can make it to a reunion, formal or informal. I definitely stopped being so reserved. I still think fondly about the Hobart cross-country team at least once a week. There are a thousand running anecdotes from those four years, but here is one of the most powerful for me: On Wednesdays, we frequently did 1,000m repeats in a cemetery near campus. Senior year I was the fastest on the team, but Rob Portik, a year younger, could often best me in shorter distances. He was fast and had the strength and pure speed of an 800m runner. I would run five miles in the morning (secretly, sorry Coach Fleury) and then do my best to keep up with Rob during the afternoon speed sessions. I can still remember the final turn of the last 1,000m repeat that day, and finding a gear I didn’t know I had. Passing Rob, and clicking off the final interval faster than I had ever run in my life. I can still feel it and I can still taste it, 19 years later. Fast, Fierce, and Free.

Alive.

2002 - 2005

The day after I graduated from college, I broke my ankle playing basketball. I would break the other one (guess how...yup! Basketball!) a year or two later. Still, I was able to bounce back and kept right on with the miles I was accumulating. I knew that, talentwise, I was average, so high mileage and hard work were the only way I could be fast. I ran. A lot. I took pretty good care of my body (in AmeriCorps someone named me “most likely to be stretching” during an assembly) and my pectoralis and shoulder had mostly healed, but I struggled a bit to keep my calves and Achilles pain-free, especially the right ones. Still, I won a few local races, including a low-16 performance in Lancaster, NH that netted me a $300 pair of hiking boots. I started marathoning as well, and after a year as a nomad (California, Arizona, DC, and a marathon in Ireland) I got my Masters in curriculum & instruction and became a high school English teacher and (you’ll never guess) a cross-country, basketball, and track coach.

2006 - 2009

My life during these years was ... interesting. My career was going great: teaching, coaching, and chipping away at my principal certification. But outside work I was partying way too much. And when the partying for the night would end, the depression and anger and all the rest of it would flood back in. I know I scared my parents and girlfriends a few times, and I scared myself. I took a sort of hiatus from running, and got really into rugby and MMA. I lifted, and got close to 200 lbs. I wasn’t out of shape, but it was a very different shape than the 165 lbs. collegiate runner version of myself. This version also managed to accrue a broken scaphoid and a broken nose, thanks to playing in a few rugby leagues and competing in a few amateur fights. I still ran on occasion, and even did some more marathons, but my times got slower and the calf and Achilles pain got worse. Burning the candle at both ends didn’t help, I’m sure. I don’t regret these years, but in hindsight I was reckless with myself, reckless with alcohol, and reckless with other people.

2009 - 2011

I became an Assistant Principal at 29, and moved back to New Hampshire for the job and to help take care of my grandmother. I decided I was done with rugby and MMA, and that it was time to recommit to running. As is typical of my personality, I couldn’t just ease back in. I decided to “become a triathlete” and train for the Ironman with my friend Vince. I bought a Kestrel Talon road bike, and eight months later traded it in for a Cervelo P2 tri bike. I took swimming lessons. I did a few sprint triathlons, then some Olympic distance, and then the Timberman Half Ironman in 5 hours and 24 minutes. That was arguably one of the most complete races of my life. One of those days when everything actually falls into place and goes according to plan. I felt like a veteran racer: cool and calm and confident in my training. I knocked off my tenth marathon, and four or five century rides. I was probably in the best endurance conditioning of my life, and then…

Crash. At mile 95 of my final training ride before Ironman Florida, I crashed at 22 mph, broke my collarbone, and got a concussion. So much for the sub-12 Ironman I had envisioned.

I spent the winter recovering, deferred to Ironman St. George a few months later, and gutted it out in something like 16 hours, with no swimming practices and only a handful of bike rides under my belt. It was ugly, but it counted, and I got my Ironman tattoo the next day in Las Vegas. At least it’s a good first-date story. It worked on my wife anyway.

2011 - 2017

I did the math, and it’s not hyperbole to say I’ve probably run 1,000 races in my life. The mileage and the injuries really started to add up in my thirties. I have never been flexible, and the mobility in my ankles and legs is laughable. I mean, literally laughable: my physical therapist sister and ortho wife often force me to demonstrate my limited range of motion to people by doing a squat. I fall backwards before I even get to parallel, and they all share a laugh.

But I love running, so I went to PT. A lot. And I got a foam roller and a lacrosse ball and five cortisone shots over the years, and slept in that damn Achilles-stretching boot. I had a surgical consult, but it would be eight months recovery per leg and no guarantee of improvement. I did some hot yoga (sorry, heated vinyasa flow) and I own several pairs of calf sleeves and half a dozen topical creams. I made it work, because running was what made me feel right. I watched my marathon times creep from nearly breaking 3 hours all the way to struggling (and failing) to break 4 hours. Still, I tried to put in the miles, because that’s how I felt centered and whole.

As my wife and I continued our careers in the greater Portland area and started a family, I felt like I became a fairly recognizable part of the local running scene. I’ve been a race director four or five times, and became a very active member of Portland Trails. I own not one, but two running strollers! I even got to be the male model in Dan Frey’s book on core strength for runners. I made a lot of great new running friends, helped out at some of Hark’s collegiate track meets, volunteered at Tri for a Cure, and the good people at Fleet Feet like to occasionally give me free stuff. Maine: the way life (and running) should be. I love nothing more than building my weekends around local races, seeing my friends, and feeling the endorphin rush of both maximum effort and supporting local causes. It’s a great scene up here in Portland, Maine. You should try it out sometime.

2018

In nearly 27 years of racing, I had only dropped out of two races. One my sophomore year in high school, and one my sophomore year in college. Both times because of calf issues. The feeling of dropping out was so terrible. I hated it more than anything. Then, this year, I dropped out of my last two races in July. I just couldn’t do it. My calves and Achilles are in bad shape. Painful and nearly immobile. I had quit drinking and added “voodoo flossing” and dry needling to my repertoire of treatments, but the sad reality is that for the last few years I have spent more time trying to get my body to be able to run than I have actually spent running. I’m barely able to get in ten miles a week, and I’m always a misstep or a slight over exertion away from another tear, and another six to eight weeks of inactivity. My legs look like they belong on two different bodies, such is the accumulated scar tissue damage. I’m tired of having to gut out a 5K, only to limp up and down the stairs for the next three days.

So here we are. Just sort of … done.

Running has been the most consistent thing in my life for more than a quarter century. And now I just can’t really do it. Maybe there are still a few low key 5K’s in my future, and I will try and replace “real running” with weight lifting, mountain biking, the occasional game of tennis, hiking, and so on, but I know it’s not replaceable. That’s hard to accept sometimes, but it’s reality. And I know it’s a first world problem, and that I’ve been blessed a thousand times over to have the life that I have. And I know I’ve just talked about myself for, like, ten pages. Sorry.

Regardless, I will miss running profoundly. I am so grateful for it, and for everything it gave me. The miles gave me form and substance. The effort helped wear down the jagged pieces of glass in my head and to calm down the frenetic angst in my heart. Life isn’t easy for a lot of people and I think we’re all looking for things that make it feel real, and make it feel worth the effort. Running did that for me. When I ran I felt fast, and fierce, and free. I felt alive.

It’s hard to imagine my life without running, but I’m going to gut it out. And I know it will be just fine, and I know that because of all the running.

Thanks for reading.

Steve

The Trails Of Our Lives: Stacey

These are The Trails Of Our Lives, the stories of our adventures, our demons, our victories, in running and in life. If you're interested in participating, please email your story (how you started running, how you ended up on the trails, your struggles, your triumphs, your photos, anything you want to share) to jen@fromrobotwithlove.org.

This is the story of Stacey. She brings strength and determination to everything she does, and it has been a joy to run and hike with her on the trails of Rochester and the Adirondacks. We are all so excited for her next wonderful adventure, that of being a mom!

The Trails of our Lives: Stacey

I would say my “running” journey really started when I fell off my growth curve.  I was consistently in the 5 percentile of height and weight and was always a small person.  Sometime around age 11 I think, I fell off.  I guess that means I was not growing at an expected rate and doctors became concerned of my well-being.

My mom tried making me these really nasty shakes to drink to gain weight, but they were gross, so I didn’t drink them.  My options came down to joining a sport.  The idea was that if I exercised I might eat more, intake more calories, and work toward some sense of normalcy. 

So I joined soccer…. Why? Because that’s the only sport anyone in Kendall seemed to do and I had some friends who did it. 

 I did not enjoy soccer.  Not anything about it.  I couldn’t kick the ball far.  My passing was poor.  I had no agility and trying to keep people away from the ball with my small body was nearly impossible. 

Socially?  Well that wasn’t any better.  I wasn’t good; I didn’t fit in and I was still too small…

What did I gain from soccer?  Running.  I sucked at that too.  But the more I ran the more I could run… so running became less and less sucky as the years went on.  I wasn’t a good runner.  But practice made doable.

In 8^th grade we started our first ever Kendall Track and field team.  I joined and continued this until 12^th grade.  I tried every skill possible, again, wasn’t good at anything.  I found out with “distance running” that the more I just ran, the better I got.  So I competed in the 1500m and 3000m events.  Mainly because no one else would do them because they are the “boring” races.  I learned that the more I ran, the further I could go. 

I did O.K in Track.  My fastest times weren’t anything to wink at.  I think a 6:20 for 1500 and maybe 13:45 for 3,000?  So I never went far with it, but I could compete.  And for the first time in my life, I felt on the same level as other peers (in a sports like situation). 

 

Joining XC in 11^th grade was a relief for me.  I wish I had joined sooner but my stubborn personality wouldn’t allow me to quit soccer until I was forced to by being cut from the team.

I didn’t want to take XC to seriously because it was considered the sport of losers… the ones that didn’t make it elsewhere.  I enjoyed it inside.  As a compliant child I followed my coaches direction and naturally got better with more practice.  Again, no times to wink at but I do remember getting a 22:something for my fastest time All this data is stored somewhere… I just don’t have it on me. 

I enjoyed the XC races more so than track.  I liked running in the woods.  I liked pushing myself forward.  I liked the competition that I had.  I also liked being on a small team with only boys.  They didn’t make fun of me or judge me.  I felt more like I belonged. 

 

I went to college and decided not to run XC there.  The idea of trying hard and getting up at 5am and having weekend meets was unappealing to me.  My goal in college was to make some friends.  Which in retrospect being on a team would have helped, but I was too afraid of judgment.

I did finally hit 100lbs my senior year of HS.  Over the years I kept trying to eat more and more.  Throughout college and grad school I tried to learn how to shove ungodly amounts of food in my face because I was still underweight.  I became a fan of the garbage plate.  2 cheeseburgers, mac salad and homefries were my go to.  Some weeks I would have up to 3 plates.  Eventually I was able to get my weight to about 110 but never quite saw 115.  I started to finally fill out and feel “normal.” But my health had to take a serious toll in order to look “normal.”

 

Fall 2007 when I was writing my senior thesis I started having gallbladder issues.  I would have serious attacks leaving me in excruciating pain.  Doctors appointments, medications, no sleep at night.  It was horrible.  I briefly changed my diet.  I finished school a semester early and stress subsided a little.  It wasn’t long until I went back to old eating habits. 

Running literally took a back seat in my life until after graduate school.  When I got a full time job the idea of only being busy for around 40 hours a week was a vacation to me!  I was usually out of the house for 14 hours a day during grad school between classes, internship, and work.  I went 2 full years without a day off  (including holidays).  So in all my spare time after graduation I went to the bar a lot mainly because my friend went though a break-up at that time and I guess I was the wing girl…  I eventually met my husband….. so it all wasn’t bad. But I also decided I wanted to start running again.  Maybe do some 5Ks or something.  I was afraid though.  I was afraid I would lose weight.  But deep down I knew I wasn’t healthy.  I knew my insides were suffering. 

Then in February 2011 I decided I wanted to push myself.  Accomplish something.  I had been out of school for going on a year.  I had passed my LMSW exam in January and felt I literally had nothing of significance to work on.  So I thought.  I’m going to train for the flower city half.  I didn’t push myself.  Set a reasonable goal to finish under 2 hours at about a 9 min/mile pace and I passed my test.  From then on I began to run more and more.  Trying to run further and faster.

 

I started to interact more with other running friends.  I ran a couple ranger relays and again, started to feel a part of something again.  Although things were getting better I thought back on my XC days and missed the woods.  I desperately wanted to get back to them.  But I didn’t know how to go about doing that in adulthood.  And being a woman and not knowing where to go. 

Concurrently I was comparing myself to others.  I got caught up in comparison and began obsessing about getting better and faster.  Constantly pushing and pushing and injuring and injuring.  I suffered on and off with injuries for years.  It was horrible.  I was constantly reading articles on line on how to get better and making training plans when I should have been doing other things.  Running was the only thing I felt I was accomplishing in life.  Sure I had my masters degree a stable job, bought a house in 2012, got married in 2013.  For some reason I was not feeling fulfilled and concentrated all my energy on running…. It became an obsession and it wasn’t healthy.    

In Spring 2012 I started trail running.  We had been in our house almost a year and moved right down the street from mendon ponds park for a reason.  I ventured out alone and after a few tries I finally learned the esker trail.  I signed up for the mendon mauler and boy it was excruciating!  Of course I suffered injury after that since it was a common theme at this point.  Got things straightened out and continued to plug along. 

I started running with #trailsroc Wednesday morning crew in October 2012.  I worked on my tail running skills and also started meeting people and developing friendships.  But as mentioned earlier I was never satisfied… always pushing forward.  I ran myself into the ground August 2013 before our wedding.  Stress was high and doctors think I may have passed a gallstone resulting in pancreatitis and a 3 day hospital stay.  I knew things in my life had to change.

I started putting energy elsewhere. So I started a business…. Continuing to strive for happiness.  Working around the clock again.  I also completed my 62 hours of EMDR training and was still pushing myself with running.  Again, I knew it wasn’t healthy and I was supposed to be making changes.  I became injured again mid fall…   Despite pushing and pushing, I wasn’t getting any happier, and better at anything.  Everything was suffering.  I was stretching myself so thin I wasn’t putting my energy where it matters… family, friends, myself…  

January 2014 I think I finally made some changes in my life.  I started to adopt a vegan diet.  I Really worked on being healthy.  Committing to beliefs and morals.  Slowing down my competitive drive.  I unfollowed running magazines and anything that posted articles on running on how to be faster and better.  I had to stop obsessing about the need to be better.  I had to accept my limitations.  Take things slow.  And function within my means.  This was (and is) really hard for me.  The running mentality is about pushing forward no matter what.  Going past your means.  Overcoming suffering.  But ya know what.  It wasn’t worth it.  It wasn’t worth my health, my family.  I became angry at these slogans.  Why are people pushing people like me into injury after injury?  Besides I should just keep going… it’s what the poster says I should do….

October 2014 gave me permission to really listen to my body when it was confirmed I was pregnant!  This was a wonderful gift for me physically and mentally. I have been doing what my body allows.  Still working on my business.  Still striving forward for accomplishments, but being a bit more forgiving of myself.  I know I have a long way to go with this.  My body is running a different sort of race right now.  The making a daughter race.  It’s not meant to be fast.  I’ve learned a lot about myself this past year and pregnancy has taught me more than I could have ever imagined.  I’m still worthwhile when I’m not running races.  I’m still worthwhile when I’m running minimal miles.  I still get twinges when I read about people’s running weeks and their goals and so forth.  Sometimes feelings judged because I don’t do that.  I’ve never ran a marathon… I don’t run high weekly mileage.  I don’t always feel I fit in.  But I’ve made some good friends via #trailsroc.  Even though I’m not accomplishing these goals they still support me and I’m still involved in the extreme training group.  Even though I’m mother in training and not training for an ultra, they support whatever my goals are.  And for this I love them all from the bottom of my heart <3 font="">

 

I’m due with our daughter in under 3 weeks.  I can’t wait to meet her.  I know I can handle labor because I have endurance to keep going.  I know pushing myself to hard will only result in injury but my goals is to listen to my body and take it one step at a time.

I do have goals of one day completing a long distance race.  But right now it isn’t on my books.  I have some other things to tend to.  When my body is ready, when my career is ready, when my family and most importantly when I can do it without obsession will be when I’m ready.  I will make it happen.  But right now I learned that running (or rather crazy training) isn’t a priority in my life. Running is something I enjoy.  It is the only sport I can connect to.  It is my sense of belonging and I want to keep it that way. 

The Trails Of Our Lives: Sonia

These are The Trails Of Our Lives, the stories of our adventures, our demons, our victories, in running and in life. If you're interested in participating, please email your story (how you started running, how you ended up on the trails, your struggles, your triumphs, your photos, anything you want to share) to jen@fromrobotwithlove.org.

This is the story of Sonia. It has been a pleasure getting to know her on and off the trails. Her kind heart and perseverance despite injuries are an inspiration. There are many adventures ahead of her, including crushing it at the upcoming Ontario Summit Half Marathon!


The Trails Of Our Lives: Sonia

I didn’t start running until about 3 ½ years ago.  Before that, I had never run a day in my life.  I was a very shy, quiet person.  Mostly kept to myself.  Starting after college, I slowly started putting on weight.  I have always loved food and used it many times for comfort.  I am an emotional eater.  I eat when I am stressed.  I eat when I am angry.  I eat when I have been emotionally hurt.  I eat because I am lonely.  I know what I am doing before, during, and after I eat and that it is only hurting me more, but I do it anyway.  After a while, I seemed to always have headaches and everything hurt.  I got winded just going up the basement stairs.  I was never active.  I still have this image in my head of myself sitting on my couch, eating bean and cheese dip as a dinner, and being alone and very sad.  I was disgusted with myself and depressed. 

 

One day I went to Subway for lunch and ran into someone I knew from college.  We became friends again and met frequently for lunch during the work week.  This person started running after college.  We would talk about running a lot.  After a while, I found myself wanting to take better care of myself.  Wanting to come out of my shell and try new things and meet new people.  I thought about what I could do that would be interesting and decided I would start going to kickboxing.  I signed up for a one-year membership in September 2011.  That was the turning point for me.  I loved kickboxing. 

 

Before I knew it I became motivated to lose weight and try running.  As I mentioned, I had never run a day in my life before.  I had no idea what to do.  All I knew was that I was too scared to even try to run outside.  So I started on the treadmill in the safety of my own home.  I tried running and couldn’t even make it 30 seconds before I couldn’t breathe and thought I would pass out.  So I decided I would try to run until that point, then walk, then run again after catching my breath, etc.  That first run/walk only lasted 12 minutes, but I was so happy I did it!  So I started with a run/walk program on the treadmill.  I did it every other day after work.  After a while, I was able to get to one mile.  With the run/walk it took me 23 minutes, but again, I did it!  I started incorporating other workouts like the Biggest Loser DVD’s, pushups, situps, various kickboxing exercises, biking.  After five months I finally ran 1 mile without stopping!  I took me 12 minutes and 30 seconds.  That was on February 23, 2012.  I had lost forty pounds since September 2011.  I was happy again.  I had tons of energy.  I felt great about myself.  I was eating better.  I started feeling more confident and finally decided in March, it was time to run outside.  I did three miles.  By May I had lost 60 pounds and ran my first 5k race on May 20, 2012 at the Lilac Festival.  I ran it in 31:25 (a 10:06 pace)!  I couldn’t believe how much I had accomplished in only 8 months.  And I did it all on my own.  On July 4^th I did my first 10k race at the Irondequoit 10k, with a time of 59:03 (a 9:30 pace!)!  I know they say not to focus on time, but I couldn’t help it.  It was so wonderful and despite a bout of shin splints, I felt great! 

 

I was at my lowest weight after 9 months and had lost a total of 90 pounds.  I couldn’t believe how much better I felt.  And being able to find clothes that actually fit me was wonderful. 

 

February 14, 2013 was my first ever trail run with a group and it’s where I was introduced to TrailsRoc.  I had a great time and running in the dark was pretty fun.  On April 27, 2013, I did my first half marathon at the Flower City Challenge.  My goal was sub two hour.  My plan was to start with the 2:10 group and slowly work my way up to the 2 hour group and stay with them.  When I got halfway through, my plan was to be ahead of the 2 hour group, no matter what.  Along the way I found Eric and Sheila running and ran with them for a bit.  Eric was pointing out buildings and telling me what to expect along the way.  After a bit, I continued on my own.  I crossed the finish line at 1:57:39 (an 8:58 pace).  I couldn’t believe I actually did that!  Everything seemed to be going so great, despite some kinks here and there, but like I said, everything I knew about running, I taught myself.  My legs started to hurt all the time.  A local running store I started running with talked about foam rolling so I bought one.  Things started getting better. 

 

Skip ahead to about a year and a half ago…my job at the time was a very toxic environment.  Managers started involving themselves in my personal life.  They started making bigger demands of me and made me take on even more work.  I was extremely stressed and would often go home crying.  I started eating emotionally again.  I stopped taking care of myself.  I was still running but everything else was going downhill very fast.  I started gaining weight again.  I started eating almost all my meals out, especially getting breakfasts at McDonald’s about 2 to 3 times a week. My work environment got worse.  I was being taken advantage of.  It was do as I say, not as I do.  I would get in trouble for talking to other coworkers when they came into the office.  I was told I was no longer allowed to talk to anyone.  A change in ownership of the company happened.  My safety officer duties were slowly being taken away from me.  I was only allowed to work on safety for one hour per week maximum.  After a while, I gave up.  I didn’t even bother to do that.  I was being told how to do my safety job from someone who has zero education in the area.  I was being micromanaged by three different people.  It got extremely bad.  I was getting hurt while running even more.  One day it got to be so bad at work my heart started pounding and I felt like I couldn’t breathe.  I was light-headed and couldn’t think straight.  I was so scared it was my heart since we have a high family history on my mother’s side.  I called the doctor.  They called me back and told me to have my family pick me up from work and take me to the emergency room.  I sat there all day.  I was told it was a panic attack.  I had never had one my entire life.  After I got out of the hospital I called my office manager at work to tell her I was okay.  She said, “well are you still working tomorrow?  Because I have an appointment.”  Wow.  Because I am such a nice person and never want to let anyone down, I went to work the next day, but first I went to see my doctor.  She put me on anxiety medication.  Over that next week, I had anxiety attacks all throughout the workday.  I would go home crying.  My managers didn’t seem to even care that most of my issue was the demands they put on me.  After a few months, I wasn’t getting better.  The doctor increased my dosage and also diagnosed me as severely depressed.  I started going to therapy.  My therapist gave me techniques to use when I had anxiety attacks, especially at work.  One was to just go somewhere and take a few minutes to just breathe.  Since the office was small, the only place I had was the bathroom.  I told my manager once I wasn’t feeling well and had to use the bathroom (panic attack, but I didn’t tell her).  After about five minutes I came out.  Feeling like I had to justify myself, I confided to her that I had an anxiety attack and just needed a few minutes.  A couple hours later, she walked to the bathroom and exclaimed as she went in “I have to go have a panic attack.”  This is the toxic environment I had to deal with.  Things got worse.  I stopped taking care of myself and my house.  I stopped cleaning.  I stopped cooking and ate take out most of the time.  I fell back into my old habits. 

 

Fast forward to January 2, 2015.  I was layed-off from my job.  While it was good for me to get out of that toxic environment, now the stress and anxiety was replaced with not working.  The depression got much worse.  I would get up in the morning later and later.  I barely ate, and when I did it was junk food or fast food.  I just didn’t care anymore.  I ran, but my heart just wasn’t in it anymore.  At group runs or in public, I would put on a smile and pretend nothing was wrong.  Like I wasn’t depressed.  Then I would go home and cry and eat bad food.  I started gaining weight again.  My old job called me and asked me to return.  I said I need to think it over.  I just couldn’t go back to such a terrible environment, could I?  People would tell me to take it.  It was better than being home.  No one really knew how bad it was there, and they just didn’t understand why I struggled so badly about going back.  I cried all the time.  I started having anxiety attacks again.  I got a letter from my old job.  The offer changed and I was to take a 20% pay cut and my safety job was taken away from me.  This was the last straw for me.  I refused the offer.  I just couldn’t go back.  My health was more important than a paycheck at that point.  If I returned, I knew I would end up back in the hospital. 

 

That brings us to today.  I started a new job three weeks ago as an administrative assistant after not being able to find a job in safety.  While it’s not what I want to do long term, the environment is so much better.  The people are really friendly.  No one is asked to work past 4:30.  Once a month they have birthday cake for that month’s birthdays.  Every last Friday of the month they buy the employees pizza for lunch.  Once in a while they bring us bagels in the morning.  I had never worked at a company that actually showed they cared about their employees.  I had my very own office.  Something I never had before.  I’m not being micromanaged, but trusted that I can do my job.  I started walking every day with two other coworkers at lunchtime.  The anxiety attacks have stopped.  I continue to go to therapy once a month.  I have gotten rid of negative people in my life.  Despite all this, I continue to battle my severe depression.  I have gained almost all my weight back that I lost.  I still am unmotivated to clean.  I don’t have people over because I am embarrassed for who I have become.  I am ashamed at basically having to start all over again from where I was 3 ½ years ago.  My running has suffered so greatly that I can barely run.  I think to myself “how am I ever going to lose this weight all over again?”  Very few people know about my anxiety and even fewer people know about my severe depression.  While I get better every day, it will be a long road ahead.  But I know with the wonderful family and friends that I have I will have tons of support.  While I haven’t told you everything about my story, it is a big relief to write this and have people be able to understand, as it makes me who I am today.  I wish this story had a happier ending, but for now, I am taking one day at a time.  For those who are curious, I am including some photos of me at my heaviest and my smallest.

 

The Trails of Our Lives: Jen

I am fascinated by people's life stories. I love that this group of people who took these vastly disparate paths through life somehow all ended up in the same place at the same time: on the beautiful trails of Rochester, NY. Getting to know these people has been the highlight of my adult life and so, with your help, I'd like to start a blog post series called The Trails of Our Lives to share those stories. If you're interested in participating, please email your story (how you started running, how you ended up on the trails, your struggles, your triumphs, your photos, anything you want to share) to jen@fromrobotwithlove.org.

I suppose it's only fair that I start this thing off myself, though I feel like my own story is boring compared to all of yours. But I'm quite fond of how that story has turned out, so I'm infinitely grateful for every moment of it. Here we go. Warning: it's long. And sort of embarrassing. Maybe you should get a snack.

I was always outside as a kid: running around playing kick the can and hide and seek, climbing trees, swinging on and walking across the top of the monkey bars. But I didn't do any sort of organized running until my sophomore year in high school. For some reason, probably because they didn't have any cuts, my dad suggested that I join the cross country and track teams, so I did. At first I was terrible at it, but something made me stick with it. I liked being part of a team, even though that was sometimes stressful because I didn't want to disappoint anyone by running poorly. Somehow I made varsity that first year and even became a captain my senior year. I found track to be a lot more enjoyable than cross country. I liked interval workouts on the track and especially the 1500m and relay events. I started to win some races at our track meets, though I wasn't very fast. It was just big fish, small pond kind of stuff. I remember the first race I won was the 1500m. I had had a bad day at school. I forget what happened, all I know is that I had a lot of pent up frustration/emotions and when the race started my legs just took off. I had no expectation of winning, this wasn't even a possibility in my mind, it just sort of happened. I remember my dad saying "You looked like you didn't even want to win." I really didn't. Other than wanting to help my team score points and to improve my own times, I had no competitive drive. Something about running just felt like something I was meant to do, it felt like home.

I ran two years of cross country in college, then I lost too much weight and the doctors wouldn't let me be on the team anymore. I remember going into college I was worried that it would be too hard academically. Then when I got there, I found out that the academics was the easy part. I mean, it was challenging and I studied like it was my job, but I got insanely good grades. Throughout all 4 years of college, I only got As in 6 classes, the rest were all A+s. At the time I was practically despondent over those As. It wasn't about the actual grades. It was just that I had this drive to always do the best I could do, to put in all the effort, to attempt challenging things and prove to myself that I could do them. Anyway, I was lucky and school came relatively easy to me. It was all the rest of college that I struggled with. I had a hard time being away from home and I didn't feel like I really fit in anywhere. It seemed like everyone was drinking and partying and that didn't appeal to me at all. I had friends, I went out on occasion but for me college wasn't this amazingly fun party that it seemed to be for everyone else and that made me feel like there was something inherently wrong with me. Even if I had had the words to explain it at the time, I didn't think anyone else would understand. So I tried to exercise away the stress. It didn't work. No matter how fast or how far you run, you can't outrun your sadness. I stopped eating, I stopped taking care of myself, I wanted to be as invisible on the outside as I felt on the inside. My parents made me go to these eating disorder doctors. I hated it. It was the most humiliating thing ever, to be weighed and always found to be not enough. I hated that my parents made me go there. I can't imagine how difficult it must be to watch someone you love literally waste away in front of you, but at the time I just wanted them to stop caring about me because I had stopped caring about myself. One day I told my mom I hated her (I don't know why I said it, I didn't mean it and I immediately regretted saying it) and she said "Well I love you." That was the day I really understood what love is.

The doctors told me to stop running. But I would get up in the middle of the night and run anyway because no one was going to tell me what I couldn't do. Until one day, mid-run, I suddenly couldn't run another step. My body just didn't have anything left. That was one of the most important days of my life. It was the day I had to decide which side I was on and the day I chose running, adventure, life. The day I chose my side. I started eating again. I finally grew boobs at the age of 21. I went on to grad school. I didn't feel like Ivy League material but somehow I ended up at Yale. I'm glad I went. I learned an incredible amount of science and math. There was one day in 2004 that I almost understood quantum mechanics. But my heart really wasn't in it.

So I decided now that I'd really committed to this whole being alive thing, I was going to do that shit right. I was going to figure out what it was I did want to do. I got my Master's degree, left grad school, came back to Rochester and randomly got this job at a small executive recruiting firm. I started out making $9 an hour. My dad used to ask me when I was going to get a real job. I didn't know what that meant. A real job, as in one you hate going to every day? I didn't care. I liked it there. Funny and weird stuff happened everyday. But most importantly, they treated me like part of their family. Like at school, my hard work was rewarded there and I quickly became a full-time salaried employee. I started making significantly more than $9 an hour and getting a lot of sweet benefits and my dad stopped asking me when I was going to get a real job. I liked work, but it wasn't my passion. I didn't really know what my passion was, but when I turned 23 I made a list of 23 things I wanted to do that year. I went skydiving, I rode in a hot air balloon, I moved in with strangers. I started to figure out that my passions were adventures and people.

I kept running, though only by myself. One day my friend Adam asked me to go running with him and I was apprehensive because it had become such a private thing and what if I couldn't keep up with him? But I went. And I started to remember why I liked running with other people. Then when I was 28 I decided I wanted to run a marathon before my 30th birthday and I knew I was going to need a lot of help doing that. So I signed up for a half marathon training program at Fleet Feet and started going to the group runs there. I met Eric and Sheila and Chris and John and the RFP crew and running became not just a hobby but a lifestyle. I ran a half marathon, then another half marathon. I hobbled through a marathon, learned more about nutrition and hydration, then somehow ran a 3:49 marathon. In hindsight, I think that race was run mostly on negative emotions from my relationship problems. Once again I had to learn the hard way that you can't run away from your troubles. I had finally found a community of inspiring, supportive, amazing people who had the same drive and wanted the same things out of life that I did. But I was in a relationship that was forcing me to choose between them and him. And no matter what I chose I was failing someone. I didn't know what to do, so I chose the side that I thought needed it more and hoped that everything would work out in time. It didn't. But slowly I learned to choose my own happiness and well being. Lucky for me, my friends are the best, forgave me for my mistakes and welcomed me back with open arms. I am so grateful for past relationships. They made me who I am today. But they were not places I could stay. It's no one's fault but mine. I want a big, adventurous life. I want to go everywhere and be friends with everyone. Other people want different things and that's ok.

I wish that I had learned that lesson quickly, but would take 3 attempts and an injury that I made worse by being too stubborn to take the time off I needed. I tried to run another marathon on my injured ankle and made it to mile 22 before it hurt so bad that I couldn't even walk and I finally realized I was being an idiot by caring about one race when I should be taking the long view. So I DNFed and it was heartbreaking. But life went on and so did I. I took the time off I needed, I did everything I could to get healthy and back into running long distances. I started running trails with #TrailsRoc. At first I was terrible at it (story of my life). I was slow. I twisted ankles. But I loved it. And most importantly, it was far easier on my body. I gradually increased my miles. I met more and more awesomely badass friends who became my trail family. I met Pete and we ran across finish lines hand in hand. We ran 58 miles of beautiful Colorado trails in 3 days and slept in a tiny tent. I ran a 50K and I still can't believe it. It feels like something that happened in a dream. I cannot believe how lucky I am to have ended up here. I hope I get to keep running and traveling and hanging out with my people for the rest of my life.

Looking back I can see now that it was the struggles that shaped me, it was the dark times that brought me out into the light. And I think that running had a lot to do with that. It was my first raison d'être. It taught me to go on when I thought I couldn't go on. It lead me to so much love and laughter. It taught me that I am a runner at heart but I am so much more than that. Running doesn't define me, it just lets all the best parts of me out to play.

If you want to read more about the struggles, see also: Things I don't talk about

Lyric of the moment: "We've been through some things together, with trunks of memories still to come. We found things to do in stormy weather. Long may you run. Although these changes
have come. With your chrome heart shining in the sun, long may you run..." ~Neil Young "Long May You Run" (I like to pretend this song is about robots running)