chapters left to be written.

I am 20 years old.
I’ve been running since I was 6 years old.

Running has gotten me through my parents divorce, anxiety, middle school, and recovering from a severe eating disorder.

Running brought me success and opportunities I never thought I’d have.
By my senior year of high school, the stress on my body caught up with me.
I had an injury in my growth plates. Despite not competing for a year, a signed to run for a Power 5 school on a full scholarship.

I moved across the country right after turning 18. I was excited and filled with hope, but also nervous and struggling with running.

By the end of my first semester I had experienced a school shooting, being verbally abused by my coach, and multiple accounts of rape by someone I was dating.

I stayed quiet. I kept my silence and decided to do the two things that worked for me, running and writing.

I tried putting my heart and soul into running but attempting to outrun my demons only made them scream louder.

I was in survival mode.

I was broken. A completely broken athlete and broken person. I had no desire to run anymore, I barely had the desire to keep fighting just for life.

Everyday became a struggle.
Words and memories filled my head.
Sleep became impossible.

I decided to leave. I transferred after that first year.

But none of that stuff had been dealt with. I kept my struggles a secret and fought in silence.

A year later I found myself in a really dark state and suffering from post traumatic stress disorder. I couldn’t keep myself safe and I entered a treatment center.

While at the treatment center I dealt with the trauma I had endured the year before- the verbal abuse from my coach and being raped, but I could only get so far in my healing journey in that environment.

I left early against medical advice, because I knew I wouldn’t be able to really get better without running.

I returned to my college and continued to work on healing. I had running, my family, a relationship, and a therapist. That was enough, right?

Things were stable for me until summer.

Then betrayal. My boyfriend and teammate at the time let me down and broke my trust. He was the one there for me at 2 in the morning when I desperately just needed someone to be with. He had been my best friend and supported me through my struggles, or so I thought.

I disclosed to him being raped at my previous school. And the first words out of his mouth were

“Why did you let him?”

He continued to question and blame me for it. He called me a liar and weak for not being able to stop it.

I don’t know why, but I guess his way of dealing with it was through comedy. So he made jokes about me being raped. He laughed while I cried and relived the trauma.

Then he told my teammates and his friends and family.

Now everyone knew my deepest darkest secret. Things not even my parents knew were spread throughout my team.

So there I was, alone.

Running and journaling got me through the summer and every step helped me heal.

Then the school year rolled around. I now had to see my ex-boyfriend everyday, and my teammates that knew my secret.

There was snickering, mocking, staring, and I was being excluded from team activities.

I thought it would just take some time. I just had to focus on running and school and kill them with kindness.

After all what choice did I have? I already transferred once, and what coach wants a broken athlete on their team?

Then the final straw happened. I was meeting with a professor, the head of my academic department, and he started displaying grooming behvaiors. He crossed professional boundaries and made me feel extremely uncomfortable.
But this same professor helped me academically when I was going through a mental health crisis the semester prior, so what could I do about it?

I went to someone in the athletic department about my situation.

“Put up with it or leave.”

Ok.

“Move forward, that’s all you can do.”

Ok.

I chose to leave.

I told my coach I was transferring. I didn’t give him a reason. What was I suppose to say? I couldn’t talk to anyone about it without disclosing being raped or attempting suicide. I couldn’t tell him I was bullied off of the team.

Then the one friend I had left took advantage of me in my sleep.

It seems like it’s been one thing after another, just an uphill battle with no end in sight.

But knowing that I can leave this place and have a fresh start keeps me going. Running everyday silents my intrusive thoughts and writing helps me put my pain into words.

I wish there wasn’t such a stigma around transferring, especially transferring twice. I’ve received comments and judgements, and there are very few coaches out there willing to work with a double transfer.

But I wish I could tell people why I left each school, or why I felt like I had to leave each school. When it comes down to it, most people would have left too if they were in my situation.

I look back on the past few years and it’s hard to believe that everything has happened.

But I also know I’ve gotten through it.

I know how hard I’ve had to fight.

I know how much adversity I’ve had to face.

I know that while these things suck, I’ve become so much stronger from them.

I know how much I appreciate and depend on running as an outlet.

And I know that there’s nothing I can’t endure.

So I keep fighting.
I’ll fight until I physically can’t anymore.
I’ll deal with the adversity, the pain, the trauma, and the exhaustion. I’ll deal with the memories and betrayal. I’ll outrun my demons and my past.

I know I can. I know I have to keep fighting.

Because there are miles left for me to go and chapters left to be written.

- Anonymous