light, dark, light again

There’s a Fred Again… song called “light dark light” that goes:

like your mood, like your power, like your battery

rise, fall, rise

life, death, life again

sky, ground, sky

light, dark, light again…

This song has become somewhat of an anthem to me. It made me realize that life is a series of light and dark times. I’m back in the light right now, but right around the time when I launched Meridia I went into the darkness for about a month. The hardest part about it was that I wanted to just disappear, but I felt like I had too much responsibility to the women of Meridia to do that. And I think that actually ended up being exactly what inspired me to work my way back into the light again. If it wasn’t for Merida, I don’t know that I would have been able to try again with running.

The last time I fell into a really dark place was before the 2024 Olympic trials. My body and mind went into another one of it’s tailspins, the kind that has become “normal” for me over the last 5 or so years. It’s typical for them to happen around big races and take me out right when I start to get some momentum. That’s the whole point of the self-sabotage (so I’ve learned). It’s a protective mechanism my nervous system has learned over the years to keep me “safe”.

It didn’t always used to be like this, but somewhere along the way my nervous system or my subconscious (however you want to think about it) decided that the darkness = safety and that the light is too risky. In the light is where I have the opportunity to soar, to fly, to be free, AND to fail, fall short, embarrass myself, and feel shame. So when I start to get a taste of the light, start to get fit and get closer to racing… part of me gets excited, and another part of me gets scared… and the darkness comes to protect me.

That’s exactly what happened after I opened my season in May at Drake Relays. If you recall, I ran just okay at Drake. Nothing crazy- 4:33 for a mile on the track. But when I got back to Colorado, I had the best week of training I’ve had in a LONG time. I ran 7 miles of threshold on Tuesday and then ran a 2:11 800m as part of my workout on Friday. The best part was that I felt AMAZING. I hadn’t felt that strong, that smooth, that much like myself, in a looooong time. I was on top of the world for about 24 hours… and then the darkness slowly crept in again.

That Friday workout made me realize “holy crap, I can really do this. I can really make a comeback. I still got it.” That realization excited me because there’s a part of me that REALLY really wants that. A part of me that has worked so hard through so many challenges for years now just for the chance to race at the international level again.

But this is the tricky part. There’s also a part of me that doesn’t want that. That part of me is so fucking scared to be out there again, racing, feeling vulnerable, feeling so much pressure from everyone around me and from myself that it becomes so unfun, completely void of any joy. This part of me wants nothing to do with racing again and would rather keep me “safe” on the sidelines. And for years now, this part has been winning the internal battle.

Does this make any sense?

So after that great workout, the one where I realized “I still got it”, I went into a dark place again. What does that mean exactly? For me, it feels like I forgot how to run- like running is all of a sudden the most unnatural, uncoordinated, awkward, uncomfortable, painful, miserable thing I could ask my body to do. Which is insane, right? I love running! My body is good at running! But not when I’m in the darkness. In the darkness it’s hard to even remember how running could possibly feel good.

In previous years when I have felt this way, my response has been to push through. I start “muscling it” for all my runs and attempts at workouts and races. And girl, let me tell you, I’m damn strong. So I can muscle it for a while. But eventually, without fail, I have to stop. Either injury or sheer exhaustion brings me to a hault.

This time I only muscled it for a couple of weeks before recognizing the pattern. Then I decided to make a different choice. Instead of running around town getting treatment on my body, looking for someone to “fix me,” I went into my mind to fix myself. A lot people gave me the excuse that “launching Meridia is probably really stressful, and even good stress is still stress, and that’s probably why you’ve been feeling off.” And that’s true to some extent, launching the team was challenging, but I knew it was more than that.

On Saturday, June 14th, I woke up, turned my phone on airplane mode, packed a little backpack with water, snacks, and my journal, and headed into the woods. I listened to music, walked, danced a little, talked to myself outloud, sat and journaled, climbed a tree and sat up there for a while looking over the canyon, walked some more, journaled some more, and didn’t come home till dinner. I welcomed in the darkness and embraced it instead of pushing it away and denying it like I normally do.

I didn’t solve everything on one hike, but I started the process. I committed to staying curious about the darkness. I’ve kept journaling about the things that are coming up and slowly (so much more slowly than I wanted) I started to feel more like myself over the next few weeks.

9 days later, on Monday June 23rd, I went out for a run, and suddenl realized that I was back in my body, running fluid and free and smooth again. Ever since then, I’ve been feeling SO good. Even better than I felt before the latest dark patch.

Light, dark, light again

My best memories come from times when I was in the light. And it’s no coincidence that they were each preceded by a seriously dark time.

In 2015 I won the NCAA championships and made my first USA team. The year before that I broke my foot and had to sit out of NCAAs. That was the darkest time in my running career up until that point.

In 2016 I qualified for the Olympics and finish 8th in Rio. The entire year before I was battling injury- finally getting healthy with 10 weeks before the Olympic Trials.

In 2019 I won USATF Indoor National Championships in the mile. Two months before that race I had a grade 2 stress reaction in my foot and had to manage training and cross training.

I could go on. The point is that there will always be light and dark. Usually when I can sense the darkness coming I panic. “No no no, I don’t want to go there!” And then when I’m in the light I sometimes have a hard time even enjoying it because I’m afraid the next dark patch is just around the corner. Now what I’m focused on is staying *curious* about both the light and the dark times and figuring out ways to dance through both.

Tools I’ve gathered for the darkness

• Journaling is a big one for me. I have to write it down, get it out of my head and on to the paper. When I go too long without writing, it will get worse. I don’t always feel the need to write every day, but I know I can turn to writing whenever I need.

• Music: Fred Again…, Kygo, Jon Batiste, Carrie Newcomer, Toni Jones, and India Arie are my go-to artists when I need some light in the darkness

• Tell someone about how I’m feeling- the darkness thrives in shame. Whenever I share what I’m going through with a close friend on a run and she sees me and validates me, I can feel a pretty immediate shift in my nervous system.

• Not running: usually when I’m in this place, running just doesn’t feel right. Don’t force it. Yoga, walking, biking, or just resting is usually more productive than trying to run.

Trust yourself

There’s something that happens every time I find my way back to the light. I realize how bad the darkness actually was. The whole time I was trying to run through that awkward, out-of-body place I kept telling myself “you’re fine” and “running is just hard”, trying to convince myself that I just need to be tougher, to work harder. It’s not until things feel right again that I realize how fucked up I was before. No wonder I wasn’t running fast! When things are firing again, the paces come to me naturally and my body does it’s thing without me having to force anything. “Ahh, that’s how it’s supposed to feel.” And I’m relieved. Relieved that I don’t suck at this. Relieved that my talent didn’t wash off, that I’m still capable, that I still have it. I’m trying to get better at trusting myself through both light and dark times. I know myself, I know what I need, I know what to do. And so do you.

Will it happen again?

Probably. I’ve made the mistake before of thinking I had it all figured out. I’m learning and growing, making mistakes, making notes, and trying again. I’ve been tempted to quit running so many times. “Why am I making my life so difficult and painful with this sport? I could just do something else.” The truth is there will be darkness no matter what I choose to pursue in this life. That’s why this resonates with you even though you don’t run around in circles for a living. Darkness is a part of life, and I’m trying to figure out how to dance in the darkness more and remember that:

“Life gets light again”

Have you signed up for the Meridia Mile yet???!! This is our invitation to join us and challenge yourself. How fast do you think you could run a mile? When was the last time you even tried? Do you think you could beat your partner? Your kid? Your friends? Your siblings?

Find out on Aug 9th. This is a virtual event, and you can do your mile anywhere, any time on Aug 9th. Upload your result afterwards and celebrate your accomplishment with us! Your registration automatically enters you in a TON of amazing brand giveaways we are hosting every Sunday all summer till race day. See the link below to check out all the prizes and sign up.

You can sign up to run, add on a race t-shirt to commemorate the day, and there’s an opportunity to add on 1:1 coaching calls with the team or with my personal coach, Juli Benson. We are here to support you!

---