Running With Anxiety: How running saved me.
The sun glared down at me as I hopped out of my mom’s shimmering white Toyota Forerunner on a brutally hot August day. I’d been training relentlessly all summer and was thrilled for the first practice of my sophomore season. I dove into the workload eagerly; I had plans of breaking the 20 minute barrier that seems to be a milestone for high school girls who run the 5K, and after I did that I set my sights on a state medal.
The running came naturally, and I was built for it at about 5’3” and 110 pounds soaking wet. It was the mental aspect of racing that was difficult for me. I had come off of a surprisingly successful freshman season where I came out with a fifth place finish in our district where the top 15 qualified for state. I knew that I could qualify for state again without an issue, but as the season progressed I found myself deteriorating mentally. I became utterly obsessed with completing my workouts exactly as they were written, I never would have dreamed of shortening a run even if I had broken my leg. I started micro managing every piece of food that entered my body in an effort to lose weight that wasn’t there to lose just so I could maybe be a few seconds faster. I didn’t see any of it as an issue though, I saw it as a commitment to the sport I allegedly loved. Things got worse on race days where my anxiety would build itself up to the size of the Empire State Building. I had to eat a specific breakfast, listen to a specific song, and if warm ups were in any way altered from the way I always did them I had to completely warm up all over again. I started to lose sleep over races, but at the same time I was running faster than I ever had in my life so I assumed everything was fine.
That sophomore season came to a head at the state championships. I had finished in third with a time of 19:41 in the district meet and I felt as though I needed a state medal. It was no longer a want; the desire to stand on the podium and look down at my proud, smiling parents was an instinctual need. The night before the race I remember crying in the shower because I was so anxious, then waking up in the most quiet hours of the morning in a sense of pure panic. I didn’t normally sleep well before races, but this was unprecedented and had taken over my life. I laid awake for well over an hour before the savior that was my alarm finally allowed me to get out of bed. I was so nervous that I felt like I wouldn’t be able to eat for the next year, but I managed to force down some of the specific breakfast foods I had prepacked. I completed every ritual that I felt was necessary for success that morning, but it did nothing to calm the fluttering of my stomach or the incessant pounding of my heart.
That year at state I was ten seconds too slow for a medal, running six seconds slower than my personal record. I crossed the finish line and all of the tension that I had carried through the season erupted in one huge emotional release. I felt as though I had failed myself, my family, my team, and my school. It was a break down of epic proportions, something that seemed to scare all of those around me.
After what happened that year I was forced to reevaluate my situation. Some nearly impossible introspection brought to life the unhealthy obsession I had developed. I remembered why I had fallen in love with cross country my freshman year, it wasn’t because I was fast or because I wanted to run in college. It was simply because running gave me an outlet and helped me deal with the rest of my life. At that point I had lost my outlet, but after what I felt was a massive failure I was able to take a step back and see that everything was going to be okay again, despite the fact that my life felt over when I stepped across the line on that fateful day.
Little did I know, I would run my fastest times my sophomore year. I never again would run a 5K under 20 minutes. I never again would dream of grabbing myself a state medal, but I was so much happier within myself. I used running to help me cope with the various things going on in my life, and I still continue to run today because of my love for it. I won’t run in college, but I can now run for the good of myself and running has gotten me through many periods of stress and anxiety.
- Anonymous
